I love New York

I love New York. I know it is not particularly original, but I do. My first encounter with New York, twenty-five years ago, was a surprise. I grew up with the image of NY as "stone jungle", as a city full of crime and avarice. Four years after I had moved to Sweden I still carried this image. And then I fell in love at first sight.

For those who have been to NY I don't have to describe it. For those who have only seen it in numerous movies - use your imagination. Before I came to NY I thought its extreme verticality would be oppressive. I hadn't known about the open vistas.

I've "done" NY several times, last time ten years ago with Anton and Julia, when it rained all week. I have a picture of them on top of WTC.

This time I am in NY en route to Roanoke, Virginia. Anton is in NY en route home from San Diego. I don't remember now whose idea it was that we should get together in New York.

I really and truly cannot understand why I love New York, when I otherwise love nature and hate crowds. Anton says that he is on holiday and doesn't want to make plans. We wander around without plans. We go to MOMA, and I make a discovery. I am sure I have seen it before, "One and three chairs". We go to the Museum of Natural History and realise that we had been there, but forgotten. It comes back vividly in the space center. We go to the WTC site and the little memorial museum. We stand in line at TKTS and go to see a show. We walk down High Line, a most fabulous urban solution I can imagine. I would have never discovered it on my own, but I have such a clever son, who also knows what fascinates me.

In the mornings, when he is still asleep, I go to the nearest Starbucks for my coffee and bagel with cream cheese, watching new yorkers hurry past the window. New York! Will I ever see you again?

Cambridge entertainment

Two of the grandchildren are visiting. On Saturday, I went to Heathrow to pick them up. Remembering my experience of being stuck in a train for an hour, I have a wide margin, but this time half of the underground lines are closed. Not Picadilly line to Heathrow though, yet it does mean more crowds. The flight from Sockholm is half an hour early, so I barely have time to grab a cup of coffee.

Filip is an experienced traveller and has seen the major London sights with me. Viktor has never been to London and has some vague ideas of what is available. I decide to take a sightseeing bus to cover everything there is to see at one go. The guide comes with a lot of sophisticated jokes that are wasted on my companions. Eventually it gets boring, but by this time it is too late in the afternoon to go to any of the attractions (Tower or Madame Tussaud), so we take a boat trip under light drizzle, admire Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross and make our way to Cambridge.

I have not prepared too well for the visit, but I know there is a fair on Sunday. We got a glimpse of it on the way from the railway station. Now, the boys are spoilt by the huge grounds in Stockholm and Gothenburg, and I warn them so that they aren't disappointed. But actually the fair is not bad. There are rides and games for all tastes (some are of the kind that make me sick by the very look of them), food market, flea market, ice cream, candy floss and a stage with very loud music. People have picnics sitting on the grass. The boys can do what they want - this is what grandmothers are for. I just remember to keep some change so that we can take a bus home. They get hamburgers and soft drinks for lunch. They win soft toys. As the very last treat, we buy a flea-market croquet set. This is a strike of genius. The rest of the day back home in Milton is saved.

On almost everything

I wish I could say that I haven't written my blog all this time because nothing of interest has happened. That's what they say in fictitious diaries to make them sound authentic: "June 13: Nothing happened today". In my case, too much has happened. I simply have been too busy, and I don't even know where to start. Like Mary Beard, I have been drowned in exams, wondering whether the system is truly fair or plain crazy. Whatever it is, I must accept it. I have attended a workshop on how to apply for research grants. I've been to yet another Formal Hall. I have interviewed prospective students. Mostly, I have been exploring Cambridge anew with my childhood friend Alyona who came to visit from Moscow, so I pretended I was working from home, and we went to Ely and Saffron Walden and Thaxsted, and, can you imagine, discovered many things that Staffan and I didn't notice the first time. In Ely we climbed the Octagon tower and learned everything about how it was built, and in Thaxsted we got a glimpse of Morris dance and went inside the mill, and in Saffron Walden we went into every antique shop, which Staffan otherwise effectively prevents me from doing. In Anglesea Abbey we noted how the herbacious border was made, to reproduce it on a modest scale. We walked around in Cambridge, visited colleges, went punting, listened to Evensong in King's Chapel, did all the tourist things and a lot more. We even did some very successful shopping. We also fought ivy and brambles in my garden. Somehow, it goes twice as quickly and is tenfold more fun four-handed.

In the middle of all this, we had our second housewarming party, which we chose to celebrate on the Swedish national holiday, June 6. We served a wide variety of herring which everyone finds exotic, and some other things I pretended were genuinely Swedish. We didn't mean to play the national anthem, but the guests more or less demanded it. I think everyone had fun. I had fun. They say the hostess is not supposed to enjoy her own party, but I don't care.

We've had visits from the gas man and the plumber and a delivery from IKEA and many other exciting events. We have seen a Fierce Animal in our garden. Today, Luke the gardener scarified our lawn. Not sacrificed (although it feels so), not scarred (it definitely looks so), and if he scared someone it was me, not the lawn.

Catching up

I feel I cannot just let it go, so here is the account. Last Wednesday, I had my inaugural lecture. A peak toward which my life had developed the past weeks, although I was pretending to be focused on the move and the new house. The inaugural lecture was my first big public appearance in Cambridge. Showing the colours. I cannot say I was nervous, but apprehensive. I had invited colleagues from all over the UK, knowing well that most of them wouldn't be able to come, but some did, and some that really mattered a lot to me.

Not least, Julia and Anton came. Staffan picked them up at Stansted last Tuesday, while I was at work, and by the time I came home they have been sufficiently impressed by the house. Yet instead of a quiet family evening I had to talk to the press. The university PR person had sent out a press release, and suddenly I was a Very Interesting Person. My topic is something that most people can relate to (which is why I had chosen it). Something most people understand - or think they do. BBC Today wanted me in the studio at 7 am the next day, but luckily called later to say that they had to cover swine flu instead. At that point, I was glad I didn't have to get up at dawn.

I didn't go to work until afternoon hoping people would understand. The day was excruciatingly long, but as usual, when it started it was over quickly. The auditorium was full, the questions sensible and everybody seemed happy. Some colleagues were impressed when they realised that the Swedish embassy was duly repesented. Most were impressed by the press coverage. Anyway, if anybody had regreted that they'd hired me, they have a good reason to be pleased now.

After the official reception at the Faculty we invited some friends home (apologizing for the mess, which by that time was almost negligible), blending people from different parts of my life, and again it seemed that everybody was enjoying themselves.

Next day Anton had to leave and Staffan took him to the airport, while Julia and I went to London on a mother/daughter bonding trip. First we went to some very special makeup store of which I had never heard, where Julia met a young shop assistant whom she had seen on YouTube (I was impressed). Then we turned cultural and went to Victoria and Albert, where we wanted to see an exhibition about hats, but missed it and instead studied carefully British 16th century furniture. I was especially pleased to have seen the Great Bed of Ware (because I am writing a little piece on beds in children's literature and have done some research). Then we saw the musical Wicked that was magnificent. We weren't back home until half past midnight.

On Friday we went to Anglesea Abbey, one of our local attractions. We had decided to be even more cultural and go to Evensong at King's Chapel, but Julia fell asleep, which perhaps was just as well. And yesterday we strolled around in the city, just the way we did she was here last, only it was a wonderful summer day, everything was open and full of people. And life just felt great.

Now the feast is over. Back to work! (But it stil feels great).

Hidden treasures

Today's excursion took us to Thaxted. The reason we knew at all that such a place existed is Staffan's extensive newspaper reading. There was this book about this man who liked Thaxted and went there every Sunday from Cambridge. Staffan looked it up on the web. I am glad he did.

An average visitor to Sweden does not necessarily go to Härkeberga which for me is more remarkable than the Royal Castle. An average visitor to the UK will not go to Thaxted unless it is someone with particular interest in architecture or history or, like Staffan, all kinds of curious things and places. Average visitors aparently miss the most extraordinary sights, simply because these are a bit off the main road.

Thaxted church is stunning. It should be listed in all guidebooks as a major attraction. Or perhaps it shouldn't. It was wonderfully empty and peaceful. I have seen quite a few old churches in various parts of the world, so I am not easily impressed.

As we were standing there, faces up, totally overwhelmed, a woman approached resolutely. I thought she was going to tell us to leave the church for some reason. Instead, she said warmly: "Isn't it Maria?" She was from the Faculty. She sings in the church choir.

Finally!

Ever since we have moved to Cambridge, all our friends have been nagging at us about punting. Those who have been to Cambridge tell us how they went punting, and those who haven't tell us how they have heard about it. Staffan has promptly refused to go punting, saying, perhaps not without reason, that the punt would sink if he stepped onto it. Neither Anton nor Julia showed any interest in this local pastime when they visited. So all my hope was on the eleven-year-old Filip, and yesterday we finally did it. It was rather cold, not really punting season, but there were apparently enough dumb tourists to make it worthwhile for the punting company. The punter was actually a student, although not at Cambridge. I must admit that the view of the city is remarkably different from the river, and the blankets we got to keep us warm almost made it bearable.

Saturday excursion

Today we went to Norfolk, to the village of Blakeney. It is not in any way a famous sight (although mentioned briefly in Lonely Planet), but today there happened to be a display of a unique dollhouse, never displayed in public before. I was spellbound by it, although not as impressed as most of the viewers, since I could recognize quite a few items or say to myself: I have exactly one like this in my doll house, and I have made it myself. Very good for your self-assurance. Staffan was not as fascinated by the house as by the visitors, average age 95, and come alive from an old movie. The hog roast was excellent and the garden magnificent with a sea view and a little sad pony.

Weird and wonderful

Yesteday I went to London, not to look at the queen, but to visit a friend. Well, I was invited to dinner to a colleague whom I had never met, but we people in children's literature are all friends. As I had not been to London since we moved, I decided to go in the morning and do something exciting.

I have been to London dozens of times, often together with someone who was there for the first time: our children, a friend from Russia, and most recent, a grandchild. There are some mandatory things for a first-timer, but several are worth to revisit. But when I am on my own I try to find something special. Occasionally I just find it without trying. To find out about what's on in London you go to Time Out. Which I did and found two things I immediately fell for. The first was an exhibition at the British Library, Weird and Wonderful Inventions . A tiny exhibition, not adverrized anywhere inside or ourside the library. My friend's husband at dinner, when I told about it, said he had spent that particular day at the British Library and never heard of it. Just the kind of event I love! How about bottle-lock, to keep the servant from tasting the master's wine? A page turner (literally)? Knot unpicker? Mostly from the 19th century.

It then felt natural to proceed to Dr Johnson's House for the exhibition on tea and coffee in his time. The house itself is marvelous, and there is a statue of Hodge the cat in the yard. The house hides in a narrow passage off Fleet Street that I would never have ventured into on my own, but I once went on an evening walk of London's secret places.

In between I went to Portobello Road Market which is always worthwhile.

When I still had some time before going to my friend's I went into the National Gallery and just sat there comfortably, watching people pass by.

Just the right way to spend a day in London, if you are tired of which, said Dr Johnson, you are tired of life.

Timberframe and topiaries

We have joined the National Trust which gives you free entry to 300 castles, mansions and other ancient attractions. Independently, we decided to make an excursion today, and Staffan suggested Lavenham, where he had been alone while I was in the old country. Lavenham is a place you think only exists as a costume movie setting (They did actually make Barry Lyndon and a dozen other films there). I have seen timberframe houses before and even stayed in one in Cheshire several times. But Lavenham is a whole town of timberframe houses. And a museum with excellent explanations about how they were built. I wish I could add some timberframe parts to my doll house. Maybe I'll make a Tudor room box.

After lunch in a timberframe pub we feel that we could do another attraction and go for Melford Hall nearby. It's grand in itself, but an additional treat is the Beatrix Potter connection, "the other Potter" as she is now referred to in children's literature context. The garden features topiaries with a pond hidden inside. A sign alerts parents to keep an eye on their children so that they don't fall into the pond.

I think we have already got one third worth of our National Trust membership.