A couple of days in London
August 18, 2006
William Morris Day in London II
One of the big things we wanted to do in London on this trip was to visit William Morris’ Red House. This house has only been open to the public since 2003. It’s about 30 miles out of London, I guess, in the town of Bexleyheath. You can only go there on a guided tour and you have to book ahead. Well, we tried several times yesterday, whenever we found a useable phone box, but never got an answer. Today I had to call four times, left a message once, and finally got through at about 10:30. We were lucky enough that we could actually get a place on the 12:30 tour, but it involved a subway ride & transfer, buying a ticket on the rail line in an unfamiliar station, and get on the right train. Turned out the train didn’t leave every fifteen minutes, but every half hour. And we missed the one we wanted to be on by about 10 seconds.
Anyway, we made it, followed by a British couple who had also just barely made it, but who had the foresight to call from the station and say they were going to be late.
What a tour. This house was built by William Morris, on a plan devised by himself and the architect Phillip Webb. He built it at a spot where pilgrims going to Canterbury could stop. It had a well in front which actually included a pump inside the house. Morris and Janey lived in this house for only 5 years – both their daughters were born there. Unfortunately, the demands of his business meant they had to go to London and sold the house, -- they had purchased the land and built the house for about 5000 pounds—for 1500 pounds. I can’t imagine how disappointing this must have been to Morris.
Some of the nifty features of the house: A dining room fresco by Burne-Jones which would be priceless if it could be removed from the house, but fortunately can’t. Morris had the ceilings and some walls lightly imprinted with a grid pattern made with nails on a square board, so that the grid marks could be used for later decorating projects. Later he and Janey did hand-painted designs on the ceiling. Morris’ study was a room to die for, with wonderful light and airiness and a view of Croyden Valley in the distance. Made you think you’d love to paint, just to paint in this room.
Our guide for this was obviously a true lover of Morris and the A&C movement – moreso than any guide we’ve ever had on any of these other places.
That was the high point of my day. This afternoon we went to the Tate Britain, which was really good – as good as the Tate St. Ives was dull. They have quite a nice collection of British painters, and some good representatives of the Pre-Raphaelites.
We had a good Indian dinner, which we’ve been looking forward to, at a restaurant right across the street from our hotel. I had lamb biryani which was deliciously unlike any I’ve had in the U.S. John had Tandoori chicken which was pretty much like it would have been in the U.S.
The news, besides the ever-present terrorism story today, is that the deputy p.m. called Bush’s mid-east peace plan “crap” in a meeting, and also said he was a cowboy. The British act like they’re shocked. Why? Because this guy actually told the truth?

August 17

William Morris Day in London

We’re back at a hotel that gives us breakfast. It’s pretty pathetic for English breakfast, but fine for me. And John’s just happy to get fed. Not even anything good enough to take to stave off hunger pangs later in the day, though.

We were up bright and early this morning. We’re sleeping in a double bed, so John says I’m taking my half out of the middle. I told him that for four days in that damn car he’s been yelling at me to keep away from the side, so I am.

The terrorist plot dominates the news here. One of the big things is that most of the alleged terrorists seem to be in the area of Walthamstow. So we went there today. Not on the terrorism tour, but because that’s where the William Morris gallery is. This is the house that WM lived in as a child, apparently after his father died and the family was in somewhat reduced circumstances. Most of us should have such reduced circumstances. The place is a palace. Large, spacious, and probably at that time way out in the country. The area behind the house is a large park, and it was part of the grounds in Morris’ time.

They have quite a collection of Morris memorabilia as well as that of other members of “the group” and stuff done by Morris and Co. There’s another settle, one of those large sofas with a back that comes up a couple of feet over someone’s head. There’s a similar one in Kelmscott house. I’ve never noticed one of these before, except in pictures of places Morris designed, but I don’t think they are furniture his workshop produced. I think they must have been somewhat common at the time. Perhaps to keep out drafts?

For most of the time we were there, we were the only people in the gallery (it’s not exactly on the tourist path—you’re not going to see any red open top buses going by here), but I behaved myself and didn’t take any pictures, even though there was really nobody there to see if I did or not.

The gallery has a number of cartoons for stained glass by Burne Jones and some by Rosetti. It has quite a few of the patterns of Morris’ textiles, but not a lot of the textiles themselves, except the one he actually wove, sort of a partridge in a pear tree. Upstairs it has a few things by people who worked for Morris & Company, including some designs made after the turn of the century or just before, that look both Art Nouveau and Art Deco at the same time. Also there’s some advertising there because another firm in London owned by someone named Morris, made a certain amount of effort to be confused with Morris & Co., which caused M&C to put out some advertising saying they were the real deal.

By the way, on this trip I’ve found the William Morris I came to see, William Morris the car builder, and William Morris the glassblower at the V&A today. I’d seen # 3 before in SF, he’s the glass blower who does a lot of animal forms.

We spent the afternoon at the V&A which was also free. Take note, Sacramento. Free museums. I was quite disappointed that the music collection has been put away while they set up a new exhibit, but I did see another piano – this one done up to look like a harpsichord by Burne Jones for a wealthy Greek-Englishman named Ionides. The case was all hand-carved and then guilded, in a repeating pattern. Of course, Burne Jones must never have looked at a harpsichord, because all the design was on the outside of the lid, not the inside. And it was a Broadwood piano. I also discovered in a book at the V&A that the Broadwood company made a lot of those clavichord sized pianos, with and without pedals, like the one we saw at Kelmscott.

Tomorrow we’re hoping to go to the Red House, but we’re having trouble getting through on the phone.