THE LAST DAYS IN ENGLAND

WHO IS THIS MAN?
AND WHY DOES HE HAVE A GUN STUCK IN MY RIBS?

You'll just have to read through the rest of the blog to find out the answers to these questions, and questions we haven't even asked yet.

Ready? Popcorn salted and buttered, napkins on the table next to you, cold drink in your hand, answering machine turned on so you don't even have to get up to go to the phone? Speaking of going..... ok, everything done? Onwards!!!!

For those of you with short-term memory loss, I'm back in England, my foreign vacation time is rapidly drawing to a close, and there we are. And the butter knife reference at the end of the last missive was harkening back to the Tales of Uncle Wiggly, one of the great rabbit story books of all time.

Tuesday, March 27 - Went to bed late so I had no guilt about sleeping late either. Slept well. Coffee and off for lunch with the Gales (remember them from before I went to Austria? They're still there) It was a nice visit. We ate at their house, and Christine is always apologizing that we're not going out, but she is a wonderful cook and we have much better food than if we went to a restaurant. They had several Cuban cigars for me as a present (Don't tell U.S. Customs) They both smoke cigarettes, so I smoked a cigar (inside a house!!!) while they did their cigarette thing, and we chatted, and it was wonderful. "Chatting" with Keith is a combination of a history lesson, a current events course and the best of the Round Table from the old Algonquin Hotel. I went back to the house, and between travel and weather and the good meal and a great cigar, I ended up deciding to spend the evening at home. Alan Fernandes came by with his daughter - Magda, his wife, was sick with tonsillitis - they are leaving for Poland tomorrow, so at least I got the chance to meet the next generation. Stayed home and watched tv and did some writing and generally enjoyed being alone in the house. Probably the last time I will have THAT particular sensation for a long time.

It's one of those paradoxes of life - one of the reasons I became a Jesuit instead of a parish priest was precisely because of community. Yet since I've been ordained, I've spent an awful lot of my Jesuit life without Jesuit community. In Lagos we were so few and we spent a lot of time on the road, so either I was visiting somewhere or Peter or Ray were out doing their visitations. And on Kwajalein I lived alone. I love being back in New York in a community - and yet those moments of solitude, like that night at Wimbledon, when I had the whole house to myself - that too was wonderful.

Wednesday, March 28 - Once consciousness intruded, and hot water poured over me and into me in the form of strong black coffee, I went out and got a ticket at the Embankment for the evening concert, and then went on to Westminster Cathedral and bought some presents and did some wandering. I love wandering. I would have gone into the Cathedral just to visit and pray but it costs about tend pounds to walk in - that's $20. A lot of money to say a prayer, so I went to the gift shop, which was free.

My wanderings brought me to the park near the concert hall, and I sat outside and smoked a cigar and watched people lining up for the wheel, and just enjoying the warm weather. Along the river there is one section with a lot of people in make-up pretending to be statues, and musicians of different kinds (and great differences in the degree of talent they bring to the endeavor). I had an ice cream and walked along the river, browsed through the open book stalls. After a bit I went into one of the eateries, and had a very nice dinner, reading my book in between courses. This was not haute cuisine, mind you, but a nice humus and warm bread for an appetizer, and a burger too big to handle. Coffee and off to the concert hall for the pre-concert talk. Two guys (Roger Nichols and Richard Longhorn) very knowledgeable and very entertaining, it was a great talk.

The program itself was very interesting - the London Philharmonic at Queen Elizabeth Hall under the direction of Vladimir Jurowski - very tall fellow, given to wearing a long coat. The opening was Honegger, Pastorale d’ete, then the Debussy Rapsodie for saxophone and orchestra and the Saint-Saens Piano Concerto #5 (Egyptian) which is not played much and it certainly should be. In the second half we had the Debussy danses for harp and string orchestra and then Honegger again, Symphony 4. Beautifully played, a most interesting program, everyone was most enthusiastic. A gentle walk back to Victoria and an easy trip home.


Thursday, March 29 - My last day actually in London. I went down and visited Farm Street, the Jesuit community that houses the Provincial offices, and the very famous Church just off Berekeley Square (where someone once heard a nightingale sing and wrote a song about it) - I dropped in on Kevin Fox, an old friend who is leaving as Treasurer before the end of the year, and then went to Mass in the Church. They have redone the lighting there and it makes a huge difference. It is a gorgeous church, and you now can see that it is a gorgeous church. After Mass I visited with Paul Hamill - he is the Socius to the Provincial, and we were in theology together in Toronto, and then I joined Fr Pearsall (who is the Pastor of the Church) and others for lunch and coffee. Another of those really nice moments of Jesuit community.

From there I walked and walked - did a little shopping, checked out the locale of where we would be dining, did some reading in Leicester Square and found an internet café and worked there for about an hour. Got to the restaurant at the agreed upon time - Elsie (remember my friend from the first London sojourn? Yup, same one.) arrived about 20 minutes later but we had loads of time, the restaurant, a Spanish place called LaTasca, is right around the corner from the theatre.

While I was waiting for her, I thought I would have a drink so I asked the cute little bartender lady if I could have a Pimm’s cup. Pause, puzzled expression on her face. “Pimms Cup?” Clearly this was something she had never heard of. I thought perhaps my accent (accent?) had confused her, so I tried again, with pretty much the same result. I pointed out the bottle on the bar - and she asked if I wanted that with ice. I started to explain how to make a Pimms and thought that this wasn’t going to work. Instead of that, let me have a scotch, straight up, no ice. Pause. Puzzled expression. “Scotch?” She went over to the bar and held up a Jim Beam bottle. Then another bourbon - then a Jamieson’s.

At that point I settled for a nice glass of red wine.

The dinner was actually very good, for a pre-theatre, prix-fixed. (THAT is why English is such an awful language - two words pronounced the same, and spelled soooo differently.) The menu had a list of choices, and you got to choose three, and a glass of wine. We had a lovely meal, and then off to the theatre. “Security” required that you check a bag (no charge) and so I checked my coat as well.

Now I had seen Evita when it first came to New York, and I don’t know that I would have gone to see it again. It was WONDERFUL!!! They have changed the script, cut out some scenes and made the first act pretty much all music. The Che Guavera character has been reduced to a scruffy commentator and the edge of conflict between rich and poor has pretty much been sanded smooth. But when the first act ended and I looked at my watch, 55 minutes had sped past. The title character was very good, a little hoarse but a big voice and she knew how to use it. The others around her were also very good, and it was a very pleasant surprise. The husband was about eight feet tall and the Evita was about 4'10" so the director didn't have them standing together very much - but it was a very good show.

After the show I took a cab and visited my friend Patricia Shour. She knew I wouldn’t want a lot to eat (one cannot visit a Lebanese house without eating something. Civilization as we know it would simply collapse.) So she had arranged for a wonderful sushi spread. We had a lovely visit and she drove me home, with her GPS navigator keeping us company all along the way. What a lovely way for my last night in London. I could not go to bed, since I had to get at least one load of laundry out of the way so all would be ready when the ironing person came.

Friday, March 30 - Slept comfortably, although I did get up early to put in another load for washing. Then back to bed, and up again later on. Isidore Bonabom came from London, and we walked over to Tony’s and the three of us went out for lunch at a pub that is in a converted old firehouse. Very nice food. The day was cold and rainy and it was very cozy to be inside with good food and good friends.

Isidore is a Jesuit from Ghana whom I have known since he was a Novice. He is ordained, and has finished a Master's degree in Human Rights and in August will finish a law degree. He has gotten permission to go on and get a Phd, but may take a year before beginning that to do some apostolic work. He's a very good man, and will be one of the great figures of the new Province, I am sure.



OK, I was kidding about the gun. Tony Montfort, Isidore is next to me - and by this point, you better know who I am.



After lunch we took Isidore to the train, Tony went to his house, and I went back to Jesuit Missions for packing and last minute whatever I did. Tim, the director of Jesuit Missions, was going out to Germany in the morning. The rest of the day was visiting and packing.


Saturday, March 31 - The car came at 4:30 to take me to the airport. Same guy who had picked me up, but this time he HAD his wallet. Of course, this time he didn't need any money. I spent a full 45 minutes in the check out line, talking with people. And while we were in line, the length of the line more than doubled behind us. Once I had a boarding pass I headed for customs and security, where we were treated to a double security check, once for coats and luggage and another entirely separate operation for taking off your shoes. I wonder what the British expression is for boondoggle.

But wait - when we got to the gate itself, there was another security check. And because of the beard? Or maybe it was the hat? I got the full treatment. Sigh. As my grandmother used to say, if they were any smarter they wouldn't have the jobs they've got. And most of them can barely deal with this one.

At the check in line they had been asking for volunteers to be left behind on this flight in exchange for a later flight and $500 - would have gotten me back to New York about two hours later so I signed up in a heartbeat, but no luck. Since myt bag had been specially marked, though, it did mean it came off the plane very quickly at the other end. It was a crowded plane and I had one of the truly stupidest flight attendants in my history of flying. Between their check in and their in air crew, gonna be a long time before I find myself on an American Airlines flight again.

I called the Super Shuttle people, but as good as they are at getting you to the airport, they are that bad at getting you from the airport. I ended up taking a cab. When I got to the residence, I discovered that American had even given us the wrong time - you know, "Welcome to New York, the local time here is...." They got THAT wrong!!! I had a quick bite of lunch, listened to the 1st act of the opera broadcast and took a nap. Then a lovely show, and off to the concert.

Concert? You just got off the plane!!! I know, but when I was on the road, this group I belong to had a great deal on tickets, so I ordered one. I went to the pre concert talk (I am finding that these pre-concert talks are very good. Sometimes they are free, sometimes there is a charge. In this case, the guy doing it was more enthusiastic than organized. Very knowledgeable but not the best presentation.

During the concert itself, I sat next to a woman from Tennessee who is with the Met Opera auditions, and I learned from her that the final concert was the next day. So when I got home I went on line, and got myself a ticket for that event as well. This eveing's program Mozart Piano concerto in B flat major, with Radu Lupu playing and Colin Davis conducting, and the second half was Sibelius, the Lemminkainen Suite, Op 22. Gorgeous music - the touch of the pianist was amazing, light and delicate and almost casual in his approach - he sort of lounged back in his seat (played on a chair with a back and he used it) and the Sibelius, which I did not know at all, was breath-taking. I was glad for the pre concert talk for both of the pieces, made them much more interesting and in the case of the Sibelius, easier to understand and follow.

And thus endeth my sabbatical month of travel and reminiscence and wandering. It was a good time, and it is also good to be back. I look forward to getting back to making my own music - during the whole month I never played a piano once. And exploring New York and friends here.

Just to keep things interesting here are two more pictures of me doing sabbatical things:


On Easter Sunday I went with my good friend Jessica (for whom I am always available as a "Boy Toy") and her sister to hear Barbara Carroll, an 84 year old piano player, singer, cabaret superstar. Jessica is next to me, then Barbara, then Jessica's sister. Yes, that's not a typo - 84. And she is WONDERFUL!!!





Fr. John at the Metropolitan Opera. Unfortunately not on the stage, but I'll take what I can get. The other distinguished bearded gentleman is Bob Trien, a friend who is a composer (currently working on two Broadway shows at the same time) and his friend from Boston who drives down to go to the opera at the Met.

OK - time for a break. (Hey! Who said Thank God?)

There will be more stories and adventures. Since coming back I've been to a symphonic salon, the Met Auditions final concert, several other concerts including the Western Hemisphere premiere of a German opera (I won those tickets on a radio contest) and a bunch of other stuff.

You and yours remain in my prayers -and if I don't know you, I hope you enjoyed the odd adventures of Fr. John, unemployed Jesuit priest.