An artist from India in London’s St Johns Wood

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THE BEN URI gallery in was established in 1915 in London’s East End. Named in honour of Bezalel Ben Uri, the craftsman who designed and built the Ark of the Covenant, it moved to Boundary Road in St Johns Wood in 2002. Originally, it was a place where Jewish immigrant artists and craftsmen could display their work. More recently, it has widened its remit to feature artists of all religions, who have migrated to Britain from other countries.

Until the 29th of November 2024, the gallery is holding an exhibition of works by an artist born in Goa (part of India since 1961): Lancelot Ribeiro (1933-2010). He came to England to study accountancy in 1950. He disliked the subject. At first, he lived with his half-brother, the artist FN Souza. Later, he resided in Hampstead. In 1951, he began studying art at St Martins School of Art, where my mother created sculpture between 1950 and the mid-1960s. The exhibition at the Ben Uri focusses on Ribeiro’s work in the field of portraiture, and displays his innovative and imaginative approach to this form of art. The exhibition is small but well displayed. I felt it was a more satisfactory showing of Ribeiro’s art than the exhibition that was held recently at Hampstead’s Burgh House.

Setting the table at a grand house in Berkshire

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BASILDON PARK IS an 18th century country house in Berkshire. Managed by the National Trust, it is open to the public. The dinner table in its grand dining room was set as it would have been in Victorian times, so a guide explained to us.

The centre of each place setting is a soup bowl resting on a plate. To the left of it, there are four forks, and to its right there are three knives and a spoon. Above the plates, there is a dessert spoon and fork. Working from left to right, the forks are for seafood (often oysters), fish fork, starter fork, and then closest to the plates, main course fork. To right of the plates, working from right to left, there is a soup spoon, a fish knife, a starter knife, and the closest to the plates, a main course knife. Each place setting had four drinking glasses: sherry, white wine or champagne, red wine, and port. We were told that there was no cutlery for cheese because in the 19th century, cheese was not served at formal dinners. What I have described was typical of a Victorian table setting in a grand country house such as Basildon Park.

In the early 1990s, we were invited for lunch at a friend’s house. Each of the table settings was almost as elaborate as that which I have described above. I looked at the table, and expected that we were about to be served a multi-course feast. The first course was pasta. I was seated so that I was able to see the kitchen. I noticed that there was a light on inside the glass-fronted oven, but it was empty. When our host offered second helpings of the pasta, everyone, doubtless expecting that much more food would be arriving, declined the offer. I was the exception, and said I would love some more. That is because, having seen the empty oven, I was more realistic about the future course of the meal. I was served my second helping, and then a bowl of salad was passed around. After that, the meal was over. However, we had only used a small proportion of the cutlery laid out at each place setting. To this day, I have been puzzling over the elaborate place settings when only one course was served. Seeing the table at Basildon Park reminded me of this occasion.

How I discovered the author Margery Allingham

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IN 1965 I HAD to apply for admission to secondary school. As part of the preparation for this, the headmaster of my preparatory school (The Hall in London’s Swiss Cottage) interviewed each of the pupils who were ready to apply for admission. I was one of them. With some trepidation, I met him in his office. One of the questions he asked was: “What do you read?”. I answered: “Thrillers”. Then he asked me which thriller writers I liked. I answered: “Ian Fleming. I enjoy the James Bond stories.” Mr Cooper, the headmaster, seemed upset by my response. After a moment, he asked: “Don’t you read Margery Allingham?” I had never heard of her, and when I told him this, I felt that he thought I was a ‘lost cause’. Now, 59 years later, I have not yet read any books by her, but thanks to Mr Cooper, I have known about her for a long time.

The granddaughter of a famous author in a church in Oxfordshire

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ONE WRITER WHOM I had to study for a state examination in English literature in 1968 was Geoffrey Chaucer (c1343-1400). Although I struggled to make sense of his “Prologue” to the Canterbury Tales, I enjoyed doing so. Since then, I have hardly ever thought about Chaucer. This changed when we made our third visit to the attractive village of Ewelme in Oxfordshire. During this visit, the parish church (St Mary) was open, and we were able to enter. Inside, we met a churchwarden, who was getting the place ready for a funeral service. He pointed out a very elaborate tomb that separates the chancel from the Chapel of St John the Baptist, which occupies the southeast corner of the church. I could hardly believe my ears when he told me whose remains are buried beneath this tomb.

The tomb, which bears the carved stone effigy of a woman, and beneath it, a stone carving depicting her after death, is that of Alice, the Duchess of Suffolk (1404-1475). She had been married first to the Earl of Salisbury, who died in 1428. Her second husband was William de la Pole (1396-1450), 4th Earl and first Duke of Suffolk. Fascinating though this is, what really interested me was that her paternal grandfather was none other than Geoffrey Chaucer, whose writing I studied many years ago. Near to Alice’s tomb, there is a less elaborate tomb containing the remains of her parents, Thomas Chaucer and Maud (née Burghersh).

Once again, visiting places in the English countryside has led us to making an exciting discovery.

A redundant church by the River Thames in Oxfordshire

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WALLINGFORD IN OXFORDSHIRE stands on a bank of the River Thames. There is a bridge across the river. If you stand on it, facing the town, you will notice a church with an unusual spire standing near the river. This is the church of St Peters. It was built between 1763 and 1769 on the site of an earlier church, which had been demolished by Parliamentary forces in 1646, when the town was being besieged by them.

Largely unaltered since it was constructed, the church contains the grave of the famous lawyer Sir William Blackstone (1723-1780), a judge who was the author of the still influential “Commentaries on the Laws of England”. He was elected as one of the first church wardens of St Peters. Sir William contributed generously to the construction of the steeple and the installation of a clock on the south face of the tower.

On the 29th of June 1969, the last service to be held in the church took place. St Peters became officially redundant in April 1971, and its care was taken over by the Redundant Churches Fund a year later. This organisation was founded in 1969. In 1994, the organisation was renamed The Churches Conservation Trust. This admirable group currently look after more than 350 redundant churches in England, and keep them open to the public and in an excellent state of preservation. We have visited many of their churches over the years, and found them to be interesting and usually very beautiful.

Transported from Florence (Italy) to South Kensington (London, UK)

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WHILE WAITING FOR an item to be delivered to me at the National Art Library, which is housed within the Victoria and Albert Museum (‘V&A’) in South Kensington, I had time to look around the museum. The V&A is a treasure house filled with fascinating exhibits from all around the world. Today, I noticed something that had not caught my eye before. It is an entire Italian Renaissance chapel, which was transported from Florence to its present location in the V&A.

This chancel chapel used to be part of the Santa Chiara convent in Florence. The convent belonged to the Poor Clares, who were female branch of the Franciscan order. Mass used to be held in this small chapel, which was constructed in the first half of the 15th century. Following the 1808 Napoleonic suppressions (of Italian religious orders), the chapel became used as a sculptor’s studio in the 1840s and 1850s. The V&A’s website (https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O17758/chancel-chapel-from-church-of-chapel/#object-details) revealed:

“In 1860, J. C. Robinson bought the chapel on behalf of the V&A, and it was dismantled and shipped to London, whereupon it was reassembled in the North Court of the Museum … In 1908 the chapel was moved from the North Court to the eastern apsidal end of the Aston Webb wing of the museum, parallel to Cromwell Road, where it remains today.”

Because of its relocation to London, the chapel is the only example of an Italian Renaissance chapel to be seen outside Italy. Moving this chapel was a less ambitious achievement that what can be seen at the Met Cloisters in Manhattan. At this museum, several entire cloisters, which had been removed from France, have been reassembled for visitors to see. Heaven forbid that the Italians will begin demanding to return the chapel, and that the French will seek repossession of their cloisters. I feel that these repatriations are even less likely than the Elgin Marbles being sent back to Greece.  

A cultural centre beneath a Victorian clocktower in Croydon

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THE DAVID LEAN cinema, where we watched a superb film called “Coming to America” (made in 1988), is within a complex known as the Croydon Clocktower. In the heart of Croydon, this cultural centre is housed in what was originally constructed as the district’s Town Hall.

The Town Hall is a magnificent – exuberant – example of Victorian brickwork. It was constructed to the designs of a local architect, Charles Henman, and inaugurated by the Prince of Wales in 1896. There is a large statue of his mother, Queen Victoria, outside the façade on Katherine Street.

Until the 1980s, the enormous edifice was used for local government purposes. In the late 1980s, and early 1990s, the interior was renovated. Areas that were no longer needed for council business were repurposed as a public library, a café, a museum, and the David Lean cinema. A large room, which retains its original interior décor, the Braithwaite Hall, continues to be used for concerts, theatrical shows, and other public functions. It looked to me that the inside of the building had been hollowed out to create a spacious central atrium with a glass roof, which can be overlooked from galleries surrounding it on each floor. The result is pleasing to the eye. From the outside of the building, you would not expect to see this kind of atrium. The Town Hall complex is now known as the Croydon Clocktower, the name referring to the building’s high brick clock tower.

The film we watched in the small David Lean cinema was wacky but wonderful – a complete contrast to an incredibly slow-moving Taiwanese film, “Days”, which we watched a few days later.