Open House weekend in London begins with a visit to the Reform Club. This is a wonderfully theatrical interior, with an enclosed central courtyard leading off into apparently long galleries where an illusion of space is created by mirrors. Mirrors above fireplaces prove to simply be windows into other rooms. The effect of the interior is one of deception; copies of Parthenon friezes are made of papier mache while wooden pillars are painted to resemble marble. The building design is intended to imitate the Farnesi palace, but the grey stone looks utterly unlike anything in Rome. Rooms are often given names that don’t match their function; the guide delights in pointing out that coffee is not available in the coffer room. I rather like the ban placed on usage of mobiles, tablets and laptops. After that, I visit the nearby Queen’s chapel before going on a tour of St Pancras Chambers; this is actually rather disappointing compared to the tour I went on years ago before the restoration. I can see the base of the grand staircase but no further-up. I do get to see the clock tower though. After that, I go to Chartered Accountant’s Hall in Moorgate. This was obiously built with a lot of money originally; a main hall is surmounted by a dome cupola with a chandelier hanging from it, while frescos cover the walls and the windows are filled with stained glass. I’m rather perturbed by a copy of the Rialto bridge in the library. Other sections are perhaps more what you’d expect; a drab extension only enlivened by Paolozzi tapestries and Piper paintings. I then have a look at some Wren churches and notice that on a grey dull day the top of the Shard has disappeared in the fog. I’d seen this sort of thing in New York but never before in London. I also have a look at the moat of the Tower of London, filled with ceramic red poppies as a WW1 memorial. Lastly on that day, I go on a tour of 55 Broadway, up the roof garden where there’s a view over a rather grey London.

The following day, I go on a tour of 2 Temple Place, looking at the Shakespearian friezes and sculptures from the Four Musketeers. After that, I head out to East London for a tour of Abbey Mills. East London is rather depressing, a souless place with lots of modern skyscrapers next to a dual carriageway. Abbey Mills itself is wonderful though; the building exterior is studded with Minton tiling and friezes showing roses and ferns. The interior is much more up to date than Crossness but the wonderful lantern at the centre is far more ornate. After this, we walk round the exterior with the remains of the old chimneys. I then head back to where I started and go round Middle Temple Hall and the Temple church.

The following weekend I go back into London. There’s a Japanese festival on in Trafalgar Square and a bizarre Yurukyara show is underway on a large stage, featuring Tagatan (mascot of Tagawa, Fukuoka Prefecture) and Sanomaru (mascot of Sano-city). Very odd. I go for a brief look in the National Gallery, including the new Bellows painting. That evening I go to a performance of Verdi’s Otello at the Coliseum. The staging of this is very well done; the lights are set low and the actors cast tall shadows on the walls. Much of the stage is in muted light throughout with a fire at the centre lighting it. There’s a particularly effective moment where Desdemona is lying in the dark and a door on the other side of the stage opens and a beam of light is cast towards her. Otello’s shadow becomes visible in the light before he can be seen himself. Since the play requires very little action as such, the director does rather over-compensate by having the actors occasionally throw themselves on the floor. A few weeks later and I’m back at the Coliseum for a performance of La Boheme; muscially, I find Puccini a lot less interesting than Verdi but the staging and overall performance seem much more satisfying. As often with ENO I’m impressed by the staging; a Montmartre garret can be divided in two and swiveled round to form a street scene so that it switches between interior and exterior. Ranging between twilight cafe scenes lit by candlelight and harsh winter scenes, it feels cinematic in its realism.

I’ve been reading Peter Carey’s Jack Maggs, a postmodern recasting of Great Expectations. Much of the retelling dwells on a more modern interpretation of the Victorian period (abortion, prostitution and the suicide of a gay character loom throughout). A character obviously based on Dickens begins by attempting to use Maggs as source material for his writing, manipulating him through mesmerism, but his control slips and the character begins to write his own story.