Tuesday, 8 September 2026, London: Yet more portraits (and The Portrait), Louie, and Matilda

Written 30 September 2026

Today, David says he finally feels like himself, though he's still not sure whether it was food poisoning, a bug or the heavier-than-usual beers that did his stomach in. But he claims his fundamental error was agreeing to get up for breakfast the first morning we were here. He should have slept in.

This morning, it actually rained lightly, with falling drops and everything.

We went back to The Moon Under Water for breakfast. This time scanning the QR code led only to error messages, so I ordered at the bar. David ordered a honey-flavored yogurt, tea, and toast. One of the items on the menu is "tea and toast."

I had tea and the "freedom breakfast"—fried eggs, British-style bacon, hash brown cakes, grilled mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, and baked beans. Yesterday's fried egg was perfect. These were a little leathery on top from sitting under a heat lamp. The beans were surprisingly good, but they're not one of my favorite breakfast foods.

Then it was back to the NPG to polish off the third floor and cover most of the second. Among the hundreds of notables, I found Thomas Bewick (by James Ramsey), shown here at the left, for whom Bewick's wren is named.

A little farther along was a self-portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, at the right here.

Then a protrait of Capability Brown (by Nathaniel Dance), legendary gardener and landscape designer.

And next to him, James Boswell (by Sir Joshua Reynolds), who, it seems, "reovlutonized biography" with his life of Samuel Johnson.

On the same wall was Sir Joseph Banks (by Joshua Reynolds), the botanist who sailed with Captain Cook and for whom the genus Banksia is named. (He collected so many specimens at one location that Cook named it Botany Bay.)

The bronze bust is of Joseph, Baron Lister. We have him to thank for the whole concept of using antiseptics. Listerine is named for him.

Part way along, we went back to The Portrait for lunch, this time with a reservation.

To munch as we studied the menu, we ordered "goat-cheese-stuffed crispy olives," which were just that—large pitted olives stuffed with fresh goat cheese, egged and crumbed, and deep fried until crispy. A little odd but pretty good.

At the right here are David's lemon and ricotta ravioli with green peas, Oxford blue, and pickled shallots (he's always been a sucker for ravioli).

And here are my lamb canon with grilled kidney, baba ganoush, chimichurry, a braised eggplant wedge, cilantro, and mint (and none of this nonsense about "how do you want it cooked"; the chef knows his business and delivered both the meat and the kidneys cooked rare, to perfection). Both dishes were outstanding!

For dessert, we of course split another Knickerbocker glory. On the menu it was described as "Joe and Marilyn's Knickerbocker Glory." The current special exhibition (which we didn't visit—we had enough to see in the permanent collection) was of portraits of Marilyn Monroe, so I wonder whether they meant that Marilyn and Joe DiMaggio.

We went back to the portraits for a while, but when our feet gave out, we walked back to the hotel. The crew preparing for the premier had completely reconfigured their set-up, moving all those tons of equipment (and the sheltering tents) and heaps of scaffolding to the side of the square in front of the Odeon.

At the left, I'm looking west along the northern edge of the square, into the largely empty fenced area where everything had been piled.

At the right, later in the day, I'm looking south, along the east side of the square. The façade of the Odeon is to the left, outside the fence. You can see part of its multicolored screen advertising The Odyssey, which was playing there all week.

Written 1 October 2026

I finally asked one of the guards what was being premiered. Turns out it's a TV series, Mobland, presumably the start of the second season. It's scheduled for Thursday, so we'll miss it, as we leave that morning for Paris. I've never seen the show, but I would recognize lots of the people in it. Tom Hardy, Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, and others are supposed to be in attendance for the festivities.

We had dinner reservations at House of Louie (horrible name for a French restaurant!), next door to the Original Ivy, where we ordered from the pretheater menu.

David's starter was heirloom tomatoes, burrata, basil, and a drizzle of balsamic reduction, and it must have been good, because he scarfed it all down.

I started with the salad with seared tuna, which featured crispy (read "raw") green beans, frisée lettuce, and a soft-cooked quail's egg.

Then we ordered the same main course and the same dessert: crispy sea bream Provençal (i.e., on a bed of tomatoey braised eggplant) with bits of lemon flesh and "tomberries" (exceptionally small cherry tomatoes), followed by strawberry Pavlova.

The Pavlova did not involve ice cream or sorbet but was otherwise just another variation on Eton mess.

From the restaurant to Seven Dials (a famous seven-way intersection) was just a short walk.

Here are two views of the obelisk at its center, one from a good ways away, sighting up the street between the trees, and one up closer. On the second, you can make out some of the seven clock faces on the obelisk, one facing each street leaving the circle.

The evening's show was Mathilda, at the Cambridge Theatre, right at Seven Dials.

At all the other theaters, the vendors in the aisles sold programs, souvenirs, and ice cream, especially at intermission. Here it was programs, souvenirs, and all candy (lots of kids were in attendance).

At the right here is a nearer view of one upper corner of the proscenium, showing that it was entirely plastered with Scrabble tiles, many showing the actual wood grain of the old-fashioned tiles (before they went over to plastic) and some even including the letter scores.

Neither David nor I grew up reading Roald Dahl, and neither of us was familiar with Mathilda. David found the musical disturbing, as bringing back childhood nightmares and fears. He was surprised (as was I, once, he commented on it) that I was not disturbed by it, as I have many more childhood nightmares and fears than he does. All I could think was that the cruelty and violence in the play were so exaggerated and cartoonish that they didn't strike me as real, just as I'm not bothered by the violence in, say, roadrunner cartoons.

The kids in the cast were great, especially the one playing Mathilda. We aren't sure just who she was, as the principal kids' roles were multiply cast, and no indication was given of which ones played on which dates. But that's another thing that reduced my aversion to the story—the kids were all on the same side, the older ones helping the younger ones and all united against the adult villains (not the case in my own childhood).

I enjoyed the play, but I'm afraid it didn't make me want to go out and read the rest of Dahl's opus.

And if you know a kid who might want to be in the show, it said right in the program that they're always auditioning to replace kids who age out or otherwise leave the cast.