A Tale of Two Flats

It’s a cold, frosty November morning and December is hard on her heals. As usual when the air turns sharp and burns in my lungs, Charles Dicken’s fills my mind. I can’t help it. As a Dickens bookslover of literature, the big D is one of my favorite authors. I always have great expectations for the holidays and would wrap my presents in the Pickwick Papers if I could. I reach for my well-worn copy of A Christmas Carol and soon picture the hard-edged streets of Victorian London with old Ebeneezer Scrooge stalking his way through the darkened heart of the city, spitting on dirty urchins and muttering bah hum bug under his breath. Tiny Tim limps through my imagination and I can almost smell Mrs. Cratchit’s goose. H’mmmm…. goose….

Charles Dickens London

And this December – like Sydney Carton from Dicken’s classic, A Tale of Two Cities – I’m plagued with an unrequited love. But the object of my affection isn’t a fair maiden named Lucy, but a traditional style Go with Oh flat in the heart of Kensington within walking distance of Charing Cross.

http://www.gowithoh.com/vacation-london-apartments/ref_16415/

In addition to being a stunning flat, the location is perfect as it is within walking distance of many wonderful sites such as the River Thames and Westminster Abbey, but it also happens to be a hop, skip and a jump from where Charles Dickens actually slaved away at the Warren’s Blacking Warehouse at the meager age of 11 while his father rotted away in debtor’s prison.

Kensington 1

I adore the crown molding in this Go with Oh London flat!

Call me crazy, but as a huge fan of history, I am one of those weirdly tactile individuals who likes to stand where my heroes actually stood and walk where they actually walked even if the place in question isn’t one that was near and dear to any of my heroes’ hearts.

As a poor little urchin, I doubt Dickens ever waxed nostalgic about his days at the warehouse, but painful as the experience was, it did inflame his imagination to write truly moving and memorable literature. So to me, visiting London at Christmas to see the sites that actually inspired his imagination and to walk where he walked excites me more than a clean house and new underwear. If I can kiss the cobblestones and hug his house without getting arrested by a bobby, I will.Dickens house sign

Kensington 2

This kitchen would make Ebeneezer Scrooge smile

Hence my love affair from afar with the pretty little Kensington flat courtesy of Go with Oh. With its high ceilings, vintage crown molding, large windows and adorable kitchen tile, it’s the perfect ground zero for a history-laden, Charles-Dickens-inspired Christmas walking tour – courtesy of http://www.dickenslondontours.co.uk/.

But much as I love this pretty little flat with its perfect little location, I’m torn, though mine is not a tale of two cities, but a tale of two flats for another object of my affection would make Bob Cratchit drool with envy.

Camden town 1

All it needs is me, my family and a plate of plum pudding

It’s an equally lovely little flat located in Camden Town, though while it sports two bedrooms, two bathrooms and lovely décor, it’s missing an outdoor mud oven in which to steam our plum pudding. But I think we can make do.

http://www.gowithoh.com/vacation-london-apartments/ref_16400/

Camden town 3

Imagine the goose Mrs. Cratchit could fix in THAT kitchen

Plus, being such a light and airy space, I doubt it’s dripping with ghosts from anyone’s past, present and future, but one can dream and I wouldn’t mind waking up to Marley’s Ghost at either location.

As I said, November is here and December is breathing down our necks. London awaits with her crisscrossed streets, ancient churches, haphazard skyline and history waiting around every corner. My copy of A Christmas Carol beckons in the bookcase. Two apartments stand ready for the renting. It’s time to dust off the luggage. God bless us, everyone.

Now pass the plum pudding. Tis the season and I’m getting in the mood.Dickens flyer

By Robin Winzenread Fritz

Warm Murano Memories to Melt a Cold Winter’s Night

My Venus di Milo impression

The days are short and the cold is hard.  Winter is coming to Indiana.  And for now, I’m fine with that, for the upcoming holidays always seem more festive and child like when the promise of snow lingers in the air.

But when the Thanksgiving turkey is a delicious memory and the torn Christmas wrapping paper is sitting on the curb with the other trash, the charms of winter will begin to fade and with it my enthusiasm for snow, cold and ice.

When that time finally does come, however, I’ll be prepared for I have my built-in memories stored in my collective conscious and that of my travel buddies of a blessedly sunny and warm day strolling the glowing streets of Murano, Italy.  Plus, if I close my eyes just so and raise my face up toward my dining room ceiling fan with the lights a blazing, I can almost pretend I’m basking in that magical Italian light.

Murano is a miniature Venetian feast for the eyes.  Go there.  See it.  Linger.  You’ll never be the same.

A view from the vaporetto to Murano.  We got off at the stop for the Museo Vetrario (the glass museum) on the Fondamenta Giustinian, but it was tempting to stay on aboard for a longer ride.

Lingering on the Fondamenta Giustinian, enjoying the boat parking on the San Donato canal.  Bellisimo!  Or however the heck you spell that….

Murano’s Basilica dei Santi Maria e Donato along side the San Donato canal.  Could the sky possibly be any bluer?

It was home to my Venus di Milo impression.  It took a crowbar to pry me out of my niche.

Shopping for mosaic tile – so many beautiful colors!  I picked out several  blue and green glass tiles that reminded me of the Venetian laguna.  My buddy Candy is going to make me a piece of jewelry with them.  How wonderful is that!

We stumbled upon this lovely hidden courtyard and, naturally, there was laundry on the line.  When I came home, I hugged my clothesline.  Now, I appreciate it even more.  Can you believe some American neighborhoods actually BAN clotheslines in their covenants? 

This is Murano’s version of the little red wagon.

Peering inside the door of a working glass factory.  That chandelier puts my dining room ceiling fan to shame.

View of a side canal.  See that large red awning in the middle distance?  That’s where I enjoyed a wonderful lunch with great friends and an amazing view.

My lunch time view – I could get use to this!

Great bridge, don’t you think? 

Candy and I have a moment

Chasing that Italian light

Mosaic Mary – isn’t she gorgeous?  She lights up the place too.

See that ochre yellow building in the center with the single room at the top left center?  I could live there and paint and be happy for years, I do believe.

The lighthouse at the tip of Murano.  I would have loved to have climbed this for the view but, sadly, it was closed.  Maybe next time.

I fell in love with these contrasting colors, the soft buff of the building against the bright red of the boat.  So lovely.

So many memorable views.  I hope to capture some of these on canvas during the cold winter months in Indiana, but they’ll never come close to what I see in my mind’s eye.  But won’t it be fun to try!

 

These pictures don’t even come close to really capturing it.  To really get a sense of what this light “feels” like, you have to smell the salty ocean air and feel the warmth of the sun radiating on your back.  Then, you’ll know that Italian light.  But savor it.  It’s far to fleeting….

 

 

A Winter Poem for an Ice Bound Day

 

It’s a serious business, this thing called winter.

A time for reflecting on goals not met

And dreams not realized.

A time for planning redemption,

The reclamation of what should have been

Or could have been but for lack of effort and will.

 

And though we wish to start anew

And make it right, we falter,

Haltingly at first, then with dread

Frozen in our too often tread tracks,

For we know, we have always known

That the way will not be easy

 

For winter comes not on soft feet

Like broken in slippers,

As some would have us think,

But, rather, in hard heeled loafers,

Unforgiving and tight.

 

She comes in serious and determined

Ready to show us our weaknesses,

Pointing out where we went wrong

And got off track, knowing that

All too soon we’ll go astray again

 

And so winter blows in, sweeping around us

Like downy flakes of snow.

And though she may point out the path to us

Our feet want not to go.