Lunch

Sometimes this project is elaborate. And sometimes - especially on a rushed Friday when my car has to go to the garage and I have a meeting with my copyeditor - it's really simple. Today I went out for lunch with some friends at Quadruples, a restaurant in Finchley. It's a nice simple place - pizzas, salads, sandwiches, jacket potatoes - and the company was very lovely. Afterwards, we all went to the Arts Depot in Finchley to see a piece of Miki's artwork. Pictured are my friends Miki and Deb with Miki's amazing and beautiful 'Tower of Psychobabble'.

With two weeks of this project done, I find I am already coming up with new projects I want to do. Maybe I'll do another month-long one sometime, or maybe just a week-long one. While it's sometimes been annoying to force myself to go somewhere new, it's been rewarding more of the time than it's been irritating, and I still feel pretty enthused about the whole thing. Roll on week three!

Simple Pleasures

Today's expedition is an example of why I *so sorely needed* this project. I have lived in my current flat for six years now. There is, across the park from me, a cafe. Until today I had *never been to that cafe*. Not to check it out, not to take a look and see what I thought. A cafe five minutes walk from my flat, and I'd never been.

I think I was put off by the sign, to be honest. It's a bit garish, giving me the idea that the place would be transport-caff-ey.

But instead, it's vaguely reminiscent of the cafe in Central Park:

And check out the views (cute toddler and Orthodox Jewish couple not permanent fixtures):

Here's the menu - it's a kosher place (although I'm not sure if it's *certified*, but that's a whole other story) and the staff (and many of the customers) are Israeli. Gave it a nice extra 'practice my Hebrew' dimension for me, although I realise that's not necessarily a draw for everyone.

Why have I never come here before? I think one of the things this project is making me notice is how much inertia I grapple with (perhaps we all grapple with) on an average day. It's so much easier to do today pretty much the same as I did yesterday. If I'm looking to relax it's easier to turn on the TV than take a walk across the park to a cafe. If I'm looking to read something new, it's easier to browse some blogs than seek out great new books (yes, even for me). We all live our days with so many choices that even making a decision to do something is hard - it feels like you're saying 'no' to a million other wonderful possibilities. I'm not sure what the solution is but goddamnit I want to come to this cafe more! When it's a sunny day, it's really stupid to sit indoors all day when I could take a book and my notebook through the park and get a cup of tea or a felafel at this place.

In other news, last night I dreamed about Danny Kaye. In fact, I dreamed that I was a 1950s Cleethorpes Council official, tasked with encouraging more tourism to Cleethorpes, and I'd somehow convinced Danny Kaye to give a show. (If this plot turns up in something I write in future I wouldn't be that surprised.) Anyway, it made me look on youtube for Danny Kaye videos and made the wonderful discovery that some of his movies are (for the moment anyway) up there in their entirety.

Check it out:
Up In Arms

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

Merry Andrew

A Song is Born

On the Double

Knock On Wood

Wonder Man  (I watched this so many times when I was a child I still know chunks of it off by heart. I woke up this morning going "Buzzy, Buzzy, Buzzy, Buzzy Bellew!")
And there are even some more - picture quality does vary.

I had such a crush on Danny Kaye when I was little (in that way that 8 and 9 year olds start to have little crushes) and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Kaye was a Jewish vaudeville performer, who started with stage work and it shows in his range of skills: singing, dancing, comedy, impressions, acting, ventriloquism, acrobatics. And he's also very good-looking, imho. Wikipedia reminded me that there's an apparently somewhat well-founded rumour that he and Laurence Olivier had a long-running affair. Which, you know, hot.

Unlike other performers of his vintage, Danny Kaye seems to have fallen out of favour but I think he'll be rediscovered one day. Jim Carrey is doing his 'lily-livered guy is forced by circumstances to become ridiculously outgoing and excels, hilariously' schtick, but without the wit, and certainly without the musical talent. If you're looking for a simple pleasure, you cannot go wrong with Danny Kaye.

Hindus do it more respectfully

I have two things to say today. One is: if anyone tells you writing a novel isn't a huge amount of work, you are to rap them smartly over the head and call them a liar. I am still working on copyediting changes and it is making me crosseyed.

The other thing is: I feel fully justified in my opinion of Westminster Abbey. All those signs and announcements saying "please respect the sanctity of this place" are as nothing compared to *being in a place where people are clearly worshipping*. It's not the place that's sacred, it's being around worship. As I discovered today.

Today I went here:

Yes, it's a surburban street in Neasden. But wait, what's that in the distance?

It is *an enormous Hindu temple*. I first saw it one day when I got lost on the way to IKEA (good idea, you might be thinking, stay lost), turned a corner on a suburban side street and suddenly... confronted by a temple that looks like it ought to be on top of a hill in a sacred grove somewhere. Today, I went back to go inside. Unfortunately I don't have many pictures of it because a) my camera ran out of batteries and b) you're not allowed to take pictures inside anyway. But here's a picture of the outside:

It was lovely inside. Tranquil, meditative, with soft music playing and people sitting or lying prostrate in prayer and contemplation. I walked around an exhibition about Hinduism, then went upstairs to the Mandir, with its lacework ceilings (somewhat reminiscent of Westminster Abbey actually) and quiet prayer.

It was strange to be in a place where I so clearly don't fit in. It's not just the fact that my skin colour made me stand out, although that was interesting. My secular education has enabled me to sit quietly in a Christian service and give the impression that I know what I'm doing, but I had no such education for Hinduism. So I just walked slowly, followed the signs, and hoped I wasn't accidentally doing something very profane.

But even though I wasn't familiar with the religious vernacular, I left the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir feeling more calm than when I'd arrived. Which must surely be the point of a religious place. Plus, entrance is totally free at all times. Westminster Abbey, please take note. (Can you tell I'm still annoyed about that?)

The Undead Rise Once More

"It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into the
churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with occasional
gleams of moonlight between the dents of the heavy clouds that scudded
across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing
slightly in front as he led the way.... The Professor unlocked the door,
and seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved
the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us followed,
and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to a
coffin.... Van Helsing said to me,
"You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that
coffin?"
"It was."
The Professor turned to the rest saying, "You hear, and yet there is
no one who does not believe with me."
He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin.
Arthur looked on, very pale but silent. When the lid was removed he
stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden
coffin, or at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent
in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as
quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness.
He was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and
we all looked in and recoiled.
The coffin was empty!"
Dracula - Bram Stoker
Yes, today I finished that foul work which on the 1st of this 
month I purposed to complete. Indeed, I at last discovered 
that tomb which first gave rise in the mind of Stoker to the 
notion and conception of the fiend, Nosferatu, Count Dracula. 
In fact, old Hendon Cemetery is literally round the corner 
from my house - my previous estimate of 'a five-minute walk' 
turned out to be a bit long, to be honest. (Which is a good 
thing because I'm supposed to be chained to the desk again 
this week working on changes frommy copyeditor, and I know 
my editor at Penguin reads this blog* and wouldn't like to hear 
that I'd gone on any long excursions.) 
Here is the tomb:
 
 
 
I can quite see why it inspired Stoker. The tomb was 
erected in 1821, long before missile silos or bomb 
shelters, but it has that look of a place built to keep 
things out or... to keep someone *in*. I expect Philip 
Rundall of Hendon probably thought it looked rather 
stylishly like a bank vault.
I have to say, I feel proud of Hendon. It's a beautiful 
ancient graveyard, wonderfully crumbly, with lovely 
views. 
 
 
And I am personally pretty excited to think that all 
those vampire stories, from Hammer Horror to Twilight, 
from Nosferatu to Buffy all started right here. I feel I 
should start keeping a stake by my bed, just to pay 
homage.
*Hi Kate!

A Club That'd Have Me As A Member (but only since 2002)

My best outings on this project so far have been at others' request (Silchester and Vyne Street), but tonight I made a request. My dad's been a member of the Athenaeum Club (founder members include Charles Dickens and Charles Darwin. Do you think they ever got each other's mail?) for a long time now but I've never visited so tonight I got him to take me there for dinner.

It was pretty much exactly what you'd expect. The kind of meal where they spoon out your carrots onto your plate for you rather than letting you do it yourself, and the menu has no prices on it. There was a newspaper lectern in the main hallway with the Telegraph on one side and, for those who prefer something more left wing, the Times on the other side. They only started admitting women in 2002 (apparently because the head of MI5 has been a member of the Athenaeum for more than a century and when Stella Rimington was appointed they decided to reconsider their position on women).

You're not supposed to take pictures inside, but just for you I sneaked my camera in and was very discreet. This is the main hall. Doesn't this statue (allegedly of a woman) look like a man with some afterthought boobs stuck on? And given that this area was 'gentlemen only' for 180 years, does that exposed breast count as 'entertainment for gentlemen'?

Over dinner, my father and I discussed why we both feel driven to gain acceptance to elitist institutions like this one (and Oxford University, and the Orthodox Jewish world, and many others) even while we continue to criticise them. Or perhaps, why we feel driven to criticise these institutions even while we remain, to some extent, members.

It's a peculiar compulsion. Not quite the self-loathing implicit in "I don't want to belong to any club that'd have me as a member"* but something more principled, I like to think. There are always two sides to every story. No line of argument is above criticism. A club can be worth belonging to but still benefit from healthy criticism. It's very Jewish, really: the idea of  "an argument for the sake of heaven" which is a vigorous discussion that leads us closer to truth. Accept nothing, question everything. I have my father to thank for this attitude: I question liberal orthodoxies as much as conservative ones - it makes for a difficult life in some ways, but always an interesting one.

*Of course Groucho Marx was really talking about the antisemitism of the time which meant that, as a Jew, he couldn't join any of the prestigious golf clubs.