What a day Wednesday was! Before my train left from London Waterloo to Alton, the town near Jane Austen’s House, I decided to use those hours to squeeze in some more sightseeing (I’m becoming very good at this!). St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Globe Theater, and Tower Bridge (not London Bridge as many Americans mistakenly call this landmark) were on the list. Running to the station, but still having to wait for half an hour, I boarded a Southeastern line train to the heart of Hampshire.
The Jane Austen House very kindly provides directions for enthusiasts to find their way to the site. However, my train got in a bit later than expected and I missed the bus by ten minutes. Not wanting to wait around for an hour until the next bus, I did the only other reasonable alternative – I hired a taxi. For the low price of £6.10 a very friendly cabbie, who sounded just like Eliza Doolittle’s father, whisked me away in my “horse and carriage” and paid me very many well received compliments along the way. Apparently, any woman between the ages of 16 and 60 heading to Chawton are automatically assumed Austenites which, to their credit, is usually a safe assumption.
Imagine my delight as we cruised past painted doors and hedgerows which, in no time at all, gave way to a house I know very well. Trembling with excitement, I quickly paid the entry fee so I could enter the hallowed grounds. From that point onwards, I was on cloud nine. Jane Austen, arguably one of the greatest authors England has ever produced, and I now have one thing in common – we’ve sat on the same windowsill. The Jane Austen Society has done a wonderful job preserving this 19th century cottage, and creating such a welcoming environment for visitors. Walking through 200 year-old hallways I saw Jane’s quilt, letters, sheet music and, of course, her writing desk. Being totally biased, I would recommend this experience to anyone! Of course, my joy had to be somewhat contained. To be completely honest, I did wish for the company of a kindred spirit who shared the same appreciation for Jane Austen’s work. Alas, independent travel can’t be all roses. Making my way through the gift shop, being highly amused at the fact that you could purchase a coffee cup with Colin Firth’s face on it, I purchased some obligatory postcards and explored more of Chawton village.
In the spirit of Rick Steves, I just started walking down a lane – looking forward to whatever cultural gems would unearth themselves. Turns out, I stumbled upon the church Jane Austen attended and graveyard where her mother and sister are buried. The Chawton House Library, unfortunately, is only open via invitation and, as best I could figure, lowly English Literature undergraduates are rarely invited. In any case, my hour’s walk along Chawton’s country lane and through the parks was just lovely. In retrospect, I should have made the 30 minute walk back to the train station, but wanted to make sure I arrived in London at a decent hour so, again, I relied on a taxi.
Once in London, I met another friend for coffee near Oxford Circus, but not before I went Toby Stephens stalking and witnessed an actual brawl. Okay, so, Toby Stephens is a British actor most Americans probably have never heard of. He portrayed Mr. Rochester in the most recent adaptation of Jane Eyre. In short, I would follow this man to the moon. His show, The Real Thing, opens on Saturday and I was gutted to just miss it. Still, I walked around The Old Vic in hopes of spotting Mr. Stevens, but only came away with a wee brochure and the bitter taste of crushed dreams. Maybe next time!
Far more exiting was the street fight I witnessed in Oxford Cirucs. Waiting to meet up with my friend, I stood just outside the Underground Station, minding my own business. Out of nowhere, these two guys burst through the crowd and one slammed the other on the pavement. I couldn’t really make out what the fight was all about, but they wrestled for a wee while, with an overexcited crowd looking on, until the fine London Police came to break up the fight and cart the men off to the slammer. By the time those faithful London bobbies arrived, my friend had as well and we went along our way. What a story!
Coffee finished, I brainstormed events to do for the evening. Of course, a West End Show! A play was on at the Criterion, The Thirty-Nine Steps, based on a book I just read in Scottish Fiction. Students get a super discounted ticket, £15, an hour before show-time. Grabbing life by the horns, I seized the opportunity and went for it! What a fun show! A total comedy, I laughed the whole way through; although, again, the experience would have been even sweeter if I could have shared it with a friend. After the show I made a beeline for the stage door and met all four members of the cast. The poor people! They looked so exhausted. Overall, it was a fantastic evening and such a great introduction to the world of West End Theater.
This morning I packed up my belongings, checked out of the hostel, mailed postcards, made my way to Paddington Station, saw the famous bear, and bid farewell to London. Bath today and tomorrow, then homeward bound on Saturday!
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