It feels like a lifetime ago, but it was only last autumn when I spent a few days on a retreat at the Royal Foundation of St Katharine in London’s east end. It’s hard to believe now that I thought it would be a real luxury to withdraw from the world and to spend a few days quietly by myself. This year, however, now that we’ve all spent months enduring an enforced withdrawal from the world, a retreat doesn’t seem like such an appealing prospect. What I crave now is the opposite – to launch myself into the world, the more exotic, noisy and colourful the better. I’m really missing the world. I know that through the miracle of technology, we can enjoy a virtual trip down the Ganges, a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon or a close encounter with gorillas in Rwanda, but it’s just not the same, is it?
What’s the opposite of a retreat? An attack? That doesn’t sound very friendly. An advance sounds better, but how can we advance now, when we’re all hiding behind masks and limited to mixing with a maximum of 6 people? I am resigned to the fact that the only way to appreciate the richness of the world at the moment is vicariously, but I do crave a three-dimensional experience – screens just aren’t the same.
Britain is full of vibrant cultural experiences like the kimono exhibition at the V&A Museum in London. I went a few weeks ago and it certainly wasn’t noisy (museum goers tend to be reverent rather than exuberant), but it was exotic and colourful. I’ll settle for two out of three. Those gorgeous designs, fabrics and colours were sensational – wisely protected by glass cases so that people like me couldn’t impulsively reach out to touch them. It felt like an exotic world and reminded me that everything is still out there, just going about its business without foreign visitors to gawp in wonder. I wonder if Venetians are breathing a sigh of relief behind their masks? I imagine them all sporting their Mardi Gras masks celebrating freedom from foreign intrusion.
If Neasden, North London, doesn’t spring to your mind as one of the most exotic sites in Britain, then you obviously haven’t been there. The fabulous Neasden Hindu Temple shimmers over the area like a mirage. It is enormous. Every block of the 3,000 tonnes of Bulgarian limestone and 1,200 tonnes of Carrara marble was cut, shaped and carved in India, then shipped to Neasden, with a detailed plan of how to fit it all together. Like a particularly complicated piece of Ikea furniture, but with much better instructions.
Top of my list, though, is a visit to Portmeirion, an Italian Renaissance-style village on the coast of North Wales. I’ve seen countless pictures of it and vaguely remember the village as the setting for that sinister programme The Prisoner, which was on TV in the 60s. A giant balloon kept preventing Patrick McGoohan from escaping while he shouted “I am not a number”. He was, though. Number 6 I think it was. I have never visited the place and would love to see all those Italianate buildings incongruously perched on the Welsh coast. With much of Wales currently in lockdown, even Portmeirion is starting to look unachievable. The fantasy it was always meant to be.
I won’t accept defeat. I will keep looking for the exotic on my doorstep. I’m planning to visit our local Indian restaurant, mask at the ready. I’m just hoping that Boris hasn’t called out the giant balloons to keep us all in order.
