The Beast, ball-and-claw and other things

 

 

It seems ages ago since I visited the Peranakan museum in Singapore but it was only just over two weeks. That was on my last weekend in that city when I had the time to go and visit some sights that had been closed for refurbishment during the Covid pandemic and have only just re-opened. This museum is devoted to the varying cultures of the mixed race peoples of the city – particularly ethic Chinese/Malay/Indian people who were commercially very successful in the mid to late 19^th Century. I particularly like their very colourful ceramics, which I sometimes confuse with ‘famille rose’ and ‘famille vert’ design’s characteristic of 18^th Century Qing.

There was also an exhibition of ‘Fukusa’; apparently these are the ornamental cloths that the Japanese used to cover special presents to people. These were quite spectacular, glittering with gold and silver in the darkened light of the gallery.

The following day I did the Botanic Gardens again, this time in hot sunshine and in particular the Jungle trail which takes you through a miniature rain forest. This really has some fantastic trees- but not a bird in sight. But I did meet one of the denizens of the lake.

The last day was spent at the Tanglin Club for breakfast and a swim before starting my flight back to the UK. It was a good three weeks, if a bit alarming to see that about one person in five wore a mask after a doubling in the city of the latest covid variant. Even I did on a couple of occasions when travelling on the tube (the MRT) pressed up against other people in very crowded trains.

And so home to find the grass a foot long but the Granny annexe finished. Now all I have to do is repaint damaged skirting boards and walls. It sounds easy, but involves having a reasonably steady hand while lying sideways on the floor – well for me at any rate. Otherwise, it was a question of getting ready for the next trip. There was one pleasant distraction, namely a visit to Lo and Graham at Hawkchurch, a real weekend for unwinding  and maybe an opportunity to see what retirement should look like. If it means getting up when you want to, nice company, good food and the occasional visit o a National Trust house it sounds quite attractive.

And then it was back to Newport for another conference, and an opportunity to renew acquaintance with my colleagues across the pond. Everyone treated me with great hospitality. Getting there was completely hassle free and I had the use of a wonderful apartment on Goat Island, splendidly equipped, in an exclusive gated community that looked straight out over the harbour. Surrounded by yachts of every size and  composition. The view from my sitting room was pretty good too.

It couldn’t have been nicer. Alongside the academic work I could not resist renewing my membership of the ‘Preservation Society of Newport County.’   To get my money’s worth, I managed to squeeze in 7 of the city’s 9 Newport Mansions. Every time I visit one of these mansions I spot something new and particularly like the libraries. Here are two of them.

Also little details like the subtle variations in 18^th Century ball-and-claw feet  of the local furniture.

What helped was my personal transport. I had asked to rent  an ordinary compact car, but instead they gave me a Lincoln Navigator. This was a tank, a 16 mile per gallon gas guzzler that positively towered over lesser cars like Landrovers and the like. To make getting into it possible ‘the Beast’ slid out what we used to call a running  board for me to step up onto first !  But I must say it was a joy to drive, if a nightmare to park.

Transport was also the theme of the beginning of my second week, which was intended to be pure holiday. This required me to take an Amtrak train down to Virginia south of Washington. I knew the trip would take some time so invested in a business class seat in order to pass the time profitably on my little laptop. All the same, no refreshments were available (unless one was prepared to abandon all one’s stuff and walk down to the other end of the train to collect crisps and coke, a process which would take nearly half-an-hour). The seat table rattled so much I had to perch the laptop on my knees, with charging wires all over the place. The nearest loo was blocked. I knew the US was big and had been startled to find the trip would take 9 hours. In the event it was 10.5 hours and when I arrived at Quantico where my long-suffering host was waiting, I found the station closed, and with two other people, got out of the one opening door on the train down onto the track.  But in fairness I must say that the cheerful train conductress came to fetch me and arranged that it was the business class door that opened ! If you add the trip to and from the station -another 2+ hours, it was 12 hours, no food, no drink, no nothing.  Surprisingly, I got a lot done, but not a good advert for Amtrak. It makes British Rail look rather good by comparison.

But once in Quantico- Don and Jean in their woodland home,

the ultimate in good hosts, made the following week all that I could wish it to have been. They have a anti-fly netted porch looking out into the trees, a wonderful place to catch up on e-mails etc.

  Great company, and varied, with all their friends, newshounds all. I learned a lot. Watched the dismal debate between Biden and Trump etc etc. Great food, two Civil war battlefield tours, five houses of the great (George Washington, Robert E Lee and so on) , a winery, a delightful Church (Aquia 1757, three decker pulpit, most of the box pews cut down in height after being used by Unionists to stable their horses ) 

and an absolutely fascinating studio/house owned by an Impressionist painter Gari Melchers that I had never heard of  but was very impressed by – not least for a truly inspiring collection of antiques he had collected just before the First World War. Stratford Hall with its extraordinary chimneys where Robert E Lee was born was one highlight – though it could have done with a National Trust-like tea-room.

Nice just the two of us being addressed as ‘You all’ in a deep Virginian accent by the lady receptionist. And all this in temperatures that at one stage were 114 Fahrenheit  ! This visit involved quite a trek through rural Virginia, again underlining just how big the United States is. On this trip we saw lots of these fences. I studied one for quite a while at George Washington's boyhood farm , but couldn't work out how they made it, deceptively simple though it looks.

 As one of two relics pottering about looking gun emplacements on the Mareye’s hill battlesite above Fredricksburg I found this sign comforting, the heat notwithstanding. 

The Peardun winery on the other hand had a cooling breeze. I was pleased with this picture taken with a telefoto lens sitting down with a wine-glass perhaps 20 feet away from an unsuspecting butterfly.

 A week of superlatives indeed. And so back to Blighty, departing from Dulles, transformed from my memory of it, into an efficient place capable of despatching me into the tender arms of British Airways in about 20 minutes. And so home