Official pronunciations for English place-names are chosen by a branch of the British Government to humiliate tourists. There’s no other explanation for it. Take, for example, the twins Gloucester (pr. “GLOSSter”) and Leicester (pr “LESSter”). And don’t get me started on Marylebone. Thankfully, the town of Balham where Lucinda lives is not pronounced “Smithfield” or “Cockfosters”, but the relatively benign “BAL-lum”, so we were spared too much embarrassment.
The name “Lucinda” conjures a fairly accurate picture of her house: neat and clean, freshly painted in happy colours, and filled with books, cheerful paintings and fresh flowers. Her garden reflects the same care and joyful spirit. For the record, a “house” in London is a different animal from a Vancouver house. Most are what we would call townhouses or half-duplexes: very few are actually freestanding structures. It’s also interesting to note that when you buy a house in the UK, you typically don’t own the land outright. You either take out or take over a fixed-term lease on the land, which will be owned by someone whose distant ancestor had been either a favourite of a titled personage, or was simply pushier than everyone else.
Our first weekend in London (pronounced “week-END” (see above)) turned out to be a holiday weekend, owing to what is called a Bank Holiday. Presumably, this is where bankers take the day off to congratulate themselves for mucking about with the global economy so decisvely. After a long and gentle morning, Christine and I took the tube into South Kensington to see the Victoria and Albert Museum, commonly referred to as the V&A. Roughly the equivalent of New York’s Met (as opposed to the New York Mets), the V&A’s massive Victorian exterior houses a huge collection, all magnificently displayed and described with signage that is clear, interesting and informative. The V&A may well be the perfect museum. Better still, London’s museums are generally free, sometimes augmenting their donation box receipts with small admission charges to special exhibitions, like the fantastic display of hats we pored over until hunger got the better of us and we stepped out into Brompton Road for a bite.
Patesserie Valerie, a chain of French café/bakeries with windows to die for, sold us a ham & cheese croissant, a jelly donut and our requisite cup of hot water (which stymied our server for a bit), and we nibbled our lunch on the V&A’s front steps before heading back in to spend some time looking at the architecture displays. The enticing glass exhibits were already closed for the day and the rest of the museum was starting to shut down, so we stopped in a the very compact and crowded Sainsbury’s on nearby Bromptom Road to pick up some groceries, and headed back out to Balham to make dinner for Lucinda.
Staying in people’s homes is a great way to get to know a place. You fall into the rhythm of life, learn how to perform day-to-day tasks with unfamiliar twists, and generally settle in. Christine and Lucinda did some gardening on the holiday Monday morning, then the two of us went for a long walk in the nearby common, a large park busy with joggers and people walking their dogs. The rest of the lazy day was spent exploring some trip planning options, eating soup, and doing laundry. Not the most action-packed slice of global adventure the world has ever seen, but it was very nice to be able recharge our batteries for the week ahead.
The name “Lucinda” conjures a fairly accurate picture of her house: neat and clean, freshly painted in happy colours, and filled with books, cheerful paintings and fresh flowers. Her garden reflects the same care and joyful spirit. For the record, a “house” in London is a different animal from a Vancouver house. Most are what we would call townhouses or half-duplexes: very few are actually freestanding structures. It’s also interesting to note that when you buy a house in the UK, you typically don’t own the land outright. You either take out or take over a fixed-term lease on the land, which will be owned by someone whose distant ancestor had been either a favourite of a titled personage, or was simply pushier than everyone else.
Our first weekend in London (pronounced “week-END” (see above)) turned out to be a holiday weekend, owing to what is called a Bank Holiday. Presumably, this is where bankers take the day off to congratulate themselves for mucking about with the global economy so decisvely. After a long and gentle morning, Christine and I took the tube into South Kensington to see the Victoria and Albert Museum, commonly referred to as the V&A. Roughly the equivalent of New York’s Met (as opposed to the New York Mets), the V&A’s massive Victorian exterior houses a huge collection, all magnificently displayed and described with signage that is clear, interesting and informative. The V&A may well be the perfect museum. Better still, London’s museums are generally free, sometimes augmenting their donation box receipts with small admission charges to special exhibitions, like the fantastic display of hats we pored over until hunger got the better of us and we stepped out into Brompton Road for a bite.
Patesserie Valerie, a chain of French café/bakeries with windows to die for, sold us a ham & cheese croissant, a jelly donut and our requisite cup of hot water (which stymied our server for a bit), and we nibbled our lunch on the V&A’s front steps before heading back in to spend some time looking at the architecture displays. The enticing glass exhibits were already closed for the day and the rest of the museum was starting to shut down, so we stopped in a the very compact and crowded Sainsbury’s on nearby Bromptom Road to pick up some groceries, and headed back out to Balham to make dinner for Lucinda.
Staying in people’s homes is a great way to get to know a place. You fall into the rhythm of life, learn how to perform day-to-day tasks with unfamiliar twists, and generally settle in. Christine and Lucinda did some gardening on the holiday Monday morning, then the two of us went for a long walk in the nearby common, a large park busy with joggers and people walking their dogs. The rest of the lazy day was spent exploring some trip planning options, eating soup, and doing laundry. Not the most action-packed slice of global adventure the world has ever seen, but it was very nice to be able recharge our batteries for the week ahead.
All that's missing is falling asleep in front of Coronation St. on the telly. You capture the flavour of your environs - I see a budding Paul Theroux.
ReplyDeleteI too remember pronouncing it "Lie-sester Square." That the village of "Mousehole" is pronounced "Muzzle" is another rift between our countries.
We prefer to pronounce it "Blahmmm" (and Clapham as Clahmmm)
ReplyDelete