‘Chocolate House Greenwich – Society, Intellect and Chocolate in 1700s Greenwich’

Old Royal Naval College

22.04.2024

This opinion reflects my personal views in my capacity as a private individual and does not reflect any consensus or anyone else at any of the organisations I work at or volunteer for.

Ascending up the stairs to the exhibition space on the mezzanine, you see a window through which you glimpse another world, another milieu, the past. It is a rare interior scene of a coffee house, one of the new forums for public debate that shaped the modern world. The customers are reading the newspapers that created the imagined community and fostered and nurtured the Western nation-state. Thus begins the historical journey into the Chocolate House in Greenwich. We are guided through a sort of window onto the past.

Behind another window, we then see the esteemed lady that ran the Chocolate House on Blackheath as one of the many women in history that have provided the world with its unique and wanted things. It is Grace Tosier ‘at the height of her powers’. Her eyes stare at us in the portrait through time. We are sharing her vision. She is the character that is leading us through things, the guide, the model: a strong, independent woman in a capitalistic culture. The heroine for this time and this society.

We learn that the Chocolate house served royalty. It then ‘became the Georgian equivalent of a celebrity hotspot’. So now we experience the glamour of the place.

The exhibition now shifts its focus. The story changes. We start learning about the origins of chocolate in South America, how it came to Europe, how it involved the morally reprehensible evils of a capitalistic society which evolved from slavery and exploitation. The trajectory of the story has shifted. We have come to a moral reckoning of the realities behind the glamour of the chocolate house. A confrontation with evil.

At this point in the story of the exhibition, like a huge wild monster from the imagination, we see a glorious display of the Cacao Tree rising up on the wall against a black canvas. The plant is covered over in insects. Why this image? The beauties of nature? The absolute origin of chocolate depicted without any varnish, perhaps, warts and all? The idea that the comforting illusions of capitalism, when the veil of ideology has been ripped off, reveal an insect-ridden reality?

The story of the exhibition journeys next into how coffee houses enabled ‘the free discussion of the latest ideas, unrestrained by the protocols of the royal court.’ In the light of what was before, the implications begin to produce a result: the free speech of this country is founded on the fruits of slavery and exploitation. It is an implicit link.

There are quite a few interesting pictures to ponder over at this junction in our journey which reflect the culture of the times, so that the task of time travel is further enabled.

Now, there is the context: Greenwich. So the place is elaborated.

A table draped in a table cloth reveals the production process of chocolate.

We then move onto the last years of the Chocolate House. And we see an image of what the building might have looked like from the outside.

Finally, the piece of the resistance: the final destination of our time travel. In a room, we enter the chocolate house. We are fully immersed now in the space. There is a life size reproduction of Grace Tosier’s image as we descend down the ramp to meet her face to face. A video plays in the space to complete the immersion not only through space in the room, but through vision, sound and characterisation. We have travelled backwards through time into the space of the chocolate house.

What do we make of this exhibition? It covers a lot of ground to make a coherent narrative: this was the chocolate house, with all of its social and political implications at the time, with its basis in capitalism, exploitation, slavery. With its enabling of social mobility at the same time for women like Grace Tosier in this context. All of the pertinent facts are presented. There is balance. And there is a stimulation of the senses with pictures and videos alongside the curator labels. There is the face of Grace Tosier to characterise the whole scene, as well as the images from the country of origin with the people there.

You get a sense of historical immersion in the chocolate house. You get a ticket into time travel into Greenwich in the 1700s – a unique virtual reality experience. An enabling of the imagination. A real journey into another place and time.

My overall sense of the exhibition is that it is interesting, unique, well researched and well thought out. In addition, there were labels for the children which would make them interested in this topic that they love too – chocolate (and the pictures to stimulate their imaginations). This was a conscience driven exposure of the past and its evils, the foundations of the public forums and the discussions that they bred that have lasted into the present, the foundations of the modern day nation state and its present evils in the evils of the past.

I did feel a certain want in the exhibition – I wanted to know more about Grace Tosier, the character that we meet face to face. A curiosity about her. But of course, the reality is that while we have a name and an image, we cannot expect a biography in a historical exhibition like this. Part of the fun is imagining her life, too. Part of the fun is being stimulated to know more – and the chocolate house exhibition certainly does this. So, in summation, a stimulating and unique experience which fosters a self-reflection on the economic and political origins of our public forums and our public discourse, what has made us and this state into what it is today, a real journey. A real experience of learning.

Pain; Giving My Tours; Meet up with Friend; Chocolate Orgy at the Chocolatier; Innocence

My friend liked this photo because he said I looked really happy in it.

03.04.2024

I got a deep paper cut on the index finger of my left hand yesterday. It has been stinging the whole time. The paper – quite thick – sliced so much into me. The pain was terrible. But the thing about pain is that it makes you feel alive. So I have kept the cut open to the elements without a plaster. It looks like a surgical cut, so clean and crisp. For such a small injury, it occupies a big place in the mind and the senses. That’s why Indian people call love a wound. Because it hurts all over with the exquisite pain of life.

This is the second incident of pain this week. I was standing around and suddenly something collapsed in my back. It lasted two days, two days of pain. So it is the season of pain. Meaningless pain and meaningless suffering.

But the back has healed now. The body will just recover from anything that you throw at it – almost anything.

I was giving out the tours which I wrote today. One woman told me that it is the first feminist art tour that she had ever been on in her life. Why have I written this tour? Where I write about feminism sometimes, I criticise what it says. Because I honestly don’t agree with the perspectives taken. But I am not a woman. Of course, I would see things differently. We have been raised to worship the mother goddess, amongst my other religions. We see the mother as the source of power and life, the source of legitimacy and justice. That is our ‘feminism’, to use the Western word. However, in this Western feminism, the idea that women are ideally mothers is wrong. In Western feminism, what ‘choice’ means is that you should work as a wage slave. It is a capitalistic feminism, not like ours which is for the poor. Where the most important thing is not work, but family. But this is what feminism is: it is about real choice. So you have to be able to give women choice and you have to respect those choices and support those choices. And not judge someone as inferior because they are women and not men. So that is how I am a feminist: because I support choice, even when I don’t agree with those choices. Because our people have been judged as inferior. We are the same as the women have historically been. We are women. But where is our choice and the respect for it?

Another friend is leaving from my life. She understood me because although she is from a different generation, she is still Indian.

I met up with my friend after work. He is off on holiday for a bit. We went down to the pub first and then we went down to the chocolatier’s. I don’t write what we talk about here. Because those conversations are honest – too honest for the people that might be reading here. Men’s conversations. I had a chocolate orgy over there – brownies with vanilla ice cream. There was a massive portion.

People think that if you go after a woman that is younger than you, that you are using your experience to an unjust advantage. In fact, these women have more experience than me and have had more relationships than I have had. It’s just a fact. So anyone that thinks that I am putting anything over any of these younger women is wrong. They are putting something over me with the way that they are treating me. Because the innocent one is me. I have been with a few, just a few. From the times before this new generation of people that are the only people that I know now. So anyone that is judging me is wrong about it. So Helen, Girl 3 and Potential Girl are the ones that are using their experience on me. Not the other way around. It is not the case that they are younger and therefore more inexperienced.

Today’s questions – with no definite answers:

Why are some people introverts and some people are extroverts? Nobody knows. I said that it is the context that determines how you act, not some kind of innate personality trait.

Why do so many women say they are introverts (they all talk to you when I start talking to them, so I don’t think that is correct)? If they are introverts, is this socialisation and gendering? Or nature?

Why are so many obsessed with cleanliness? Is this socialisation? Or nature?

I managed to get up early in the morning today. And I managed to do some extra work in the morning. So, I am back on track. I just have to keep it up. Everything in life is just habit. When I wasn’t feeling well, I woke up late, as late as I could. I developed an unhealthy habit. Now, I just have to develop a healthy habit.

Chocolate; A Kiss; Pride; Helen the Heroine; The Nurturing Instinct; Teasing

15.03.2024

the kiss

15.03.2024

what does a kiss take?

a kiss takes a thought

and makes it into a story

a kiss takes a dream

and makes it into a quest

what does a kiss give?

a kiss gives a moment

which becomes the eternity

of memory

a kiss gives an awareness

which changes your destiny

beware of a kiss

I eat chocolate every day because it simulates the same emotion as love. It makes me feel good. It gives me what is missing out of my life. I have been suffering from love starvation recently. Chocolate is a slight solution. It’s no accident that it relieves depression in the Harry Potter novels and is a cure against the Dementors. The author had a divorce. Like me, she was separated from the one that she loved. I told someone the other day that it is a simulation of love. She told me not to say that. She said it was sad to say that. What do these youngsters know about what it is like when the most important thing in your life is not there?

This morning, I saw a stranger woman. On these dating apps, you look at the photographs and you don’t feel anything. You are numb. This whole day, I thought I wouldn’t see any woman that I would look at. But then she was there. Beautiful, stylishly dressed. My exact type. We locked eyes. And suddenly, I was thinking about kissing her. A long kiss. You know what they say? They say ‘in your dreams’. It’s probably what Helen thinks if she does not say it. What encouragement has she ever given me this whole time? In your mind, it is not a crime to kiss a woman. As long as you don’t stare or make them uncomfortable. And just looking at her and thinking of holding her and kissing her sent a surge of feeling throughout my whole body. I could feel it in my head. The sense of connection and intimacy which you remember from before, which you are missing and craving. Of course, I did not talk to her. You see women every day that you would want to be with. And yet, if you ever tried to talk to them, they would treat you like a serial killer. The ones you know for six months or more do that – so with the ones you don’t know, it would be even worse. And you know something? I am never going to meet that stranger ever again. You never do. Life is not a movie where you coincidentally keep on banging into women again and again until they fall in love with you. And when they are in your lives all the time on a regular basis? Like I said, this is the society of love.

I passed the assessment at the Gardens. I’m officially on the team now. I put in a lot of time and work to do it. Because it was my duty. To save the world and all the plant life in it with my talents. To make a contribution. I have been raised to be a hero. I do the things that a hero does. I commit to education and learning to transform the world and make it a better place. It was my grandfather’s dream, my mother’s dream, so it is my dream. I do my level best to fulfil my duty. And when I do fulfil my duty? Then I am proud of myself. Because what do I get from it? I am in some gardens which I love and around nature. But I lose a whole day’s pay to do it. I travel one and half hours there in the morning and then one and a half hour’s back when I go in every week. But it is all worth it. When someone or something is worth it for you, you do it. Because as I often say, I have to look in the mirror and not see a monster. If other people can’t see you as the hero, that is their prejudice. Because I have done a lot of volunteering – and work that was hard and very involved. I know that I am a hero. Not just in terms of volunteering, not just because I am the first one with a PhD and published work in my family, but in my personal life and on the streets. I am proud of myself for doing what it takes to be a hero.

And in this diary, I am the hero. What about Helen? Is she the heroine? What have I actually said about Helen in this diary? Nothing really. Because this diary is not about Helen. It is about me and my love for Helen and what happens when you can’t get your love in life, when your love can’t die and you are stuck and can’t move on because of this society of love and its ‘diversity’. There is a big question about Helen though. Why can’t she stop reading my diary? Every night. Why was Helen so uncomfortable when I stopped talking to her and avoided her? Considering she told me that she didn’t even know me? Why does Helen even care in the least what I think about her? We never went out together because she is the one that said no. She is not my ex.

And yet, how can Paris stop thinking about his Helen? At any moment in the war, he could have handed her back over. It would have been over. Paris can’t. It doesn’t matter about the cost. Paris is in love with Helen.

I have been calling my friend every day because she is poorly and she is all alone. Everyone that has needed care and attention in my life and I could help them, I have done it. I am good at nurturing people and nursing people. Because I have a lot of patience and I am a caring person. Some people think I am nasty because I make jokes and tease people. That was the humour back in the old days which is what these youngsters fail to appreciate. I went to a boy’s school. That is what it was. Just because the rules of humour have changed whereas we are still the people with the same upbringing and experiences. It is not meant to be nasty – it is a form of friendliness. But the youngsters nowadays can’t laugh at themselves like we could. They are anxious and have issues. They lack our confidence in ourselves. However, times change. I have been taught my lesson. Not around 99.9% of women. With the men, it is still okay, with some of them.