Brewing

After the sweltering heat of the day I sit outside in the dark watching moths flicker in the garden light, listen to the clatter of my neighbour's cutlery in their washing up and the distant rumble of cars on the new road, and relish the cool on my skin. Two silent flashes of lightning. No thunder or other dramatics.

Reminds me of driving from Chicago to Madison on one of those long straight american road the whole land stretched out ahead of us, lightning flashing a third of the way up the sky way way off in the distance.

We could do with a storm. It would clear the air. Make sleeping easier again. Lighten the air.

Sunday Morning

Woke with a jolt at 8.00am convinced my alarm had not gone off and I was late for work. Convinced. Only when I was sitting upright on the edge of the bed did I realise it was Sunday. Hate that.

Paartty!

Well, a genteel sort of party. A house party held by someone who lives at Westminster Abbey. (!!) Different world. Fabulous old buildings, lovely gardens, Palace of Westminster poking up over the wall as a backdrop.




The lay vicars (not sure what that means exactly, apart from the fact they sing with the choir) sang a version of the Beatles' When I'm 64 (it was a 64th birthday party), in the style of Barbershop - a quintet rather than the usual quartet. The light fell over the grounds. There was a mass party saying-of-grace and then we ate. Some sixth formers (sons of the clergy) had been drafted in to be waiters and kept topping up the glasses. On the way out the halls were very quiet, we walked over gravestones embedded in the corridors, lights came on as we passed. I wouldn't have liked to have to do the walk on my own. Stepping out of the cloisters there was a bat flitting overhead. Back to the 21st century and the hubbub of the city.

Head in the sand

Clearly these days I've been going round with blinkers on - work, home, work - and have missed finding out about the London Festival of Architecture until I stumbled across these structures in Bedford Square, then saw another one pinned to the corner of the Canadian Embassy.

Talking on the phone while on the loo

Would you/could you/well you wouldn't really would you?
At home (maybe...)/at work (I don't think so)?
Flush or wait for the call to end first?

Its not nice really is it. Somehow worse at work. I went into the toilet today and someone was having a conversation on the phone in there. It puts me off being in there at the same time as someone anyway but when you think someone on the phone may be hearing you...

Eye Test

Walked over to 20/20 and found they were offering walk-ins again (some time since I've been). They made me look at the long road with the hot air balloon going in and out of focus, puffed air in my eyes (but kept warning me so I started closing my eye before it came - pavlovian responses and all that), made photos of my eyeballs to see how healthy they were, made me read lines of letters (this or this, this or this, a or b - sometimes difficult to tell the difference). Overall one eye has gotten a little worse.

I was very good afterwards and didn't buy the lovely Alain Mikli's that the salesman picked out for me - tortoise-shell and mauve and a mere £325 (the most expensive pair I tried that day - isn't it just always the same - always drawn to the dearest) for the frame alone. I think I may just get my old ones reglazed...

RainRainrainrain

It rained all day today - sort of drizzly at first wafting up under the edge of the umbrella and gradually heavier and heavier. Sky a misty grey. Reminded me of holidays at the grandparents on the West Coast of the Highlands. It could rain for a week solidly without letting up. We'd stare out of the huge picture window longing for it to stop, leaning elbows on the sills and mess with grannies knick knacks - china animals, metal bowls with the odd loose button. Watching the distance with the binoculars searching for some blue sky on the horizon which disappeared in and out of the rain haze, occasionally a boat would slip past. No where to go and nothing to do until granny got the card table out and we'd play a game of whist (she was a card demon - always had an ace that she'd play with a flourish at some deadly moment). Or we'd be made to go out in it - cagools and wellingtons - walking with the rain stinging your cheeks until you were wet through to the skin. Come home to change and spend the rest of the day washing and drying clothes. Top loading dryer made the whole house smell of hot cloth. Only Grandpa dealt with rainy days/weeks the same way as dry one - out fishing in a big sou'wester, tending vegetables in a beaten up old Barber jacket, tying up fences, bringing in coal. Coming home smelling of wet wool.

Tube Details

• One button on a pink shirt with a blue check is sewn on with yellow thread.
• Hem of a summer coat pulled up because of a lining that isn't long enough. Gathers and puckers.
• Yellow teeshirt under blue and white shirt - vague greeny hue apart from collars, cuffs and yolk.
• Smart looking in a natty lemon waterproof jacket, apart from very old shoes covered in grass clippings worn without socks.

Men's Singles Final

I woke up dreaming about my mum and my sister. We were going to a wedding that needed 6 changes of outfit. I didn't have six options and thought it was OTT so was refusing to go to all of it. My sister was upset with me and ran crying to our mother, who was dressed and ready to go in a silk shirt dress, lying down in bed with my Auntie Jennifer. She was trying to placate my sister while saying that I was allowed not to attend it all if I didn't want to...

I went round to Dad's in the rain for breakfast. He made pancakes (which were exceptionally good) and we watched the men's tennis final. I wanted Nadal to win. Pops was conflicted - head wanted Federer, heart wanted Nadal. I have always found it hard to really root for Federer because of his striking resemblance to Quentin Tarantino.

I came home in a rain break which was lucky considering the fact the match didn't finish until 9.15. I vacuumed the living room while watching - kept disturbing the house spiders' routine. Then I took a chunk out of my knuckle while grating Parmesan. It bled so profusely that it came through the plaster immediately, so I had to change it. By the time I got back to my dinner it was almost cold.

Cleaning my teeth before bed I looked at myself and thought it had been a good hair day today (its a lot on the dry side these days which makes it difficult to manage) which I felt was a shame since it was Sunday and nobody would have seen it much. And then I was gong to crush it by sleeping on it.

Friday Evening

Out-of-towners are swarming around West End Theatreland. Waiting to go into overblown musical extravaganzas in garish dresses. Tourists are intermingled in their Euro-summer threads - three quarter-length sporty shorts and pale jackets, or white trousers and tans. Trying not to get run down by errant bus drivers whose vehicles lurch forward alarmingly in traffic. London workers relax after work drinking outside pubs. Mostly pale and black suits, chugging larger.

VPL

She wore her VPL proudly as she strutted along the Walworth Road, tall in wedge platforms, cool in her short tan shirt dress. A passing man turned around to watch her arse walking on by. It was going to be a glance but it turned into a stare.

Credit crunch

Reading the London Shite this evening I didn't manage to supress a giggle when I read the headline [cue cloyingly irritating breathy female voiceover] This is not just any credit crunch, this is an M&S crunch.

BBQ



After the cooking we toasted marshmallows on old twigs of elderflower. Loving that brown-on-the-outside and runny-on-the-inside tooth rotting sugar rush.

Online dating

As an observer of the ritual that is dating (we in Britain seem to have embraced it post-Sex in the City), it seems that things have changed. No longer does the chosen way to find a date involve hanging out in pubs and bars steadily getting pissed, trying to impres likely candidates with your quick wit and banter. Oh no.

All my friends are now signed up to online date sites. Maybe I need to clarify that. Most of my friends who are 30 and above are signed up. I suspect that for those in their 20s can still get away with the pissed in pubs methodology - being tipsy is only cute in that age group.

Anyway, online dating - a. its addictive, b. its nerve racking (judging by how much time I spend discussing it, even though I'm not involved), c. in the end you just have to take the plunge and meet some of the total strangers to see if they are indeed anything like their picture or half as witty as their profile would make them seem.

I'm now waiting for the fallout. There is bound to be some - dates which had to be ditched in the middle by climbing out the toilet window, people who used the picture of their good looking cousin instead of their own, and stuff. I'll report back when I get the juice...

Ceramics Class





I've been going to ceramics class. Its a little light relief from the working week. Something to look forward to, something that takes me out of the computer-based world and back into a light hearted, practical and messy environment that encourages a little bit of creativity.

For some reason I've been making pots with small bottoms. And the other thing that I wanted to do was to make some pots for my cacti.

Things that have been stopping me blogging...

Oops I've had an unintentional blogging holiday. Life outside is somehow keeping me from virtual life, partially through its crushing mundaneity.

1. Working - after spending all day with the computer at work the last thing I want to do is work on the computer at night. Also working takes up an inordinate amount of life time.
2. Euro 2008 - while I wouldn't say I am a massive fan of the football game, boyfiend is and since the games are on the box we've been staying in and watching it. Computer wifi interfers with the digital TV.
3. Longest day - I love it as the days stretch longer and longer towards the longest day - evenings outside in the garden tinkering, or sitting, or barbecuing (any excuse this year, even when it hasn't been very warm or when there aren't many people to partake - had about 6 so far).
4. Babysitting the niece and nephew - weekend spent keeping little people occupied - knackering!

So there we go, those are the excuses, if you'll have them.

Marmalade

Bails and I met for a late breakfast at a cafe near my house that I wanted to try. Its the first place I've discovered in the year and half that I've owned the house that actually seemed like a place I really want to go. It was small, run by a couple, had unmatching wooden tables. They did an English breakfast or a continental. Coffee like it comes in France (as opposed to in Starbucks where you can have big, bigger or biggest) - a moderate cup, with a saucer. We sat outside. The sun shone. People went past on the way to and from Bruce Castle Park - walking dogs, playing tennis, walking for fitness, going home from shopping. There was a constant stream of customers, but we still managed to stay for a continental breakfast with fried eggs extra with coffee and then a further pot of tea. I love finding a cafe like this in Tottenham - a 5 minute walk from home.

Bails came and looked at houses with me sometimes - we saw some really pokey ones, with bathrooms cut out of kitchens on the ground floor, dark corridors, in areas where people left junk on the street and disaffected youth hanging on street corners. When we saw what has become my house I had a sign of relief - it had space, interesting layout, light and large hallway and an upstairs bathroom (which had become important luxuries during the search). I could see myself there. Bails was very nervous that I couldn't move fast enough to get it (although she didn't say so at the time, only later). I'm probably almost starting to feel at home here. I've gotten used to its location - it isn't as far off the beaten track as people who don't live here think. The only negative is that there isn't really anywhere to go that's nearby. Apart from this cafe (woo hoo). Now all we need is some decent restaurants and a nice bar.

Hypothesis

a. Birds like cherries. (Cherry tree at end of garden is hosting a huge number of feasting feathered beasties.)
b. I like cherries. (I can eat a whole bag of cherries in one sitting.)
c. I am an bird.

Springwatch

My overwhelming thought watching this is that the natural world is a cruel and dangerous place. We've had chicks dropped out of the nest by unfamiliar males, weasles jumping into the nest and eating the last remaining baby, fledglings jumping out of the nest to their deaths, mothers abandoning the young, attacks by competing birds. More like a thriller.

I like to ride my bicycle

Tottenham Green Fair. Cycle London had brought an odd assortment of cycles (not all of them bi) that kids, generally, were having a great time riding. Some were difficult to balance on, hard to steer and odd looking. We laughed.