October 3, 1999 – The Extraordinary Spencer House, London

My Bayswater hotel was full last night and the breakfast room is crowded. After breakfast, I walk to nearby Kensington Gardens; the end where the little Peter Pan statue is located. On our previous trip, at my instigation, Brian, Mom, and I walked the full length of Kensington Gardens, nearly a mile, to see this little statue. They were not impressed.

Squirrels and rabbits burrow at the bronze statue’s base while Tinkerbell-like fairies flutter upwards towards the boy Peter who stands in his nightshirt legs akimbo blowing on a horn. It is charming. J.M. Barrie lived on the adjacent Bayswater Road where Kensington Gardens inspired his stories. Apparently, the author himself commissioned the statue and had it installed in Kensington Gardens in the middle of the night, in part, because he didn’t have planning permission to put it there, but also he wanted children to think it appeared magically.

Just off Bayswater Road is Kensington’s splendid Italianate Garden. Water arcs from urns held by elaborately carved Greek nymphs into a series of four marble basins. The ornate fountain basins are situated at the end of the Long Water stream that eventually becomes Hyde Park’s Serpentine Lake.

The park is full of Sunday strollers—parents with baby carriages, joggers, people walking hand-in-hand. It is a lovely walk in the cool, but sunny morning.

I take the tube from Lancaster Gate to Green Park to tour Spencer House. Spencer House was the London home of the Spencers of Althrop until the 1920s. John, 1^st Earl Spencer, built the townhouse in the 18th century. Earl Spencer still owns the house, but a Rothschild corporation has a 120-year lease on it.

Facing Green Park, when the Spencers built the house in the 1760s, its grandeur rivaled its neighbor Buckingham Palace. But, during the previous 70 years, it had been stripped of everything from fireplaces to moldings, removed for safety during the Blitz, and used as a nursing hospital, then subdivided into offices. Just this year, the Rothschilds completed 12 years of costly renovations, meticulously restoring the mansion to its original 18^th century condition.

An hour-long tour gives us the details of the paintings and furnishings. Its design is classical—Greek Ionic columns and statuary in some rooms with half-dome ceilings said to be inspired by Rome’s Temple of Venus in others. I particularly like the Palm Room, which as one writer puts it:

The climax of the ground-floor tour is the extraordinary Palm Room, into which the gentlemen would retire after dinner. The classical columns mutate into palm trees, with extravagant fronds framing the arches. Everything is generously gilded and the colour scheme is made up of white, pale green and equally pale pink, all very light and glittery. In the domed and coffered alcove stands a reproduction of the Venus de Medici, to give the gentlemen something to look at while they drink their port.

A portrait of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, prompts the guide to ask if anyone has read Amanda Foreman’s new biography of Georgiana—the book I recently finished. (I just keep running in to her.) In Lady Spencer’s room, where they gambled night and day, the guide says, “A lot of money was won and lost in this room.”

I make my way back to my hotel via Convent Garden. I stroll the shops keeping a hand on my travel wallet around my neck. It was here in 1996 where I had my wallet lifted out of my fanny pack losing everything: money, credit card, driver’s license. Fortunately, my traveler’s checks were easily replaced and VISA fed-exed me a replacement card in a couple of days, but the chance of being pickpocketed again always makes be uneasy.

I have dinner at Garfunkels near my hotel. It is awful. The Caesar salad is full of old, white lettuce; the Parmesan cheese comes from a can.

• In today news: The paper is full of news about the Conservative Party conference that starts tomorrow. It reports that Margaret Thatcher privately referred to William Hague, the leading Conservative Party contender to challenge Tony Blair, as wee Willie—implying that he is not important enough in stature to lead the party. Also, a serialization of John Major’s memoirs reveals a rift between them during his term. Finally, some personal mementos belonging to Princess Ann have been stolen from Buckingham Palace; presumably, the paper implies by palace staff. It says security among staff is notoriously lax.