Pruning the Dude

It's funny that the very tropical Brugmansias have chosen now to bloom, because it's starting to feel downright autumnal out there. Something about the low humidity and lower temperatures, a subtle shift of the sun, is telling me that it's almost fall. It's 55º F this morning (about 13º C).

I just gave Bailey a Dentastix, which you will remember was one of Olga's favorite treats. Olga would eagerly snatch them from us and gnaw them apart immediately. Bailey, though, takes them uncertainly, and then carries them out into the garden or to a remote corner of the house and "buries" them. (Indoors this means shoving them under a radiator or houseplant.) I don't know if she doesn't like them or if she's saving them for later -- often if we retrieve the treat and give it to her again, she eats it right away. She only does this with Dentastix, not other treats. Mysterious.

Anyway, this morning she tried to bury her treat in the "wandering dude" plant, trailing across the floor and around the other plants in the living room. In the process she broke many of the stems, so the dude needed an emergency pruning job.

All this before I could even get coffee!

Yesterday we went to the cemetery, where she chased squirrels while on her extra-long lead. She gave my arm a workout.

Otherwise I mostly read. I'm almost done with Derek Jarman. We're in the last year of his life, and his medical struggles have intensified so that's become bleak. But his mind remains sharp and his social criticisms interesting. Yesterday, for example, I read this passage reflecting on people who are especially attached to the place of their birth or childhood:

"Peter worrying about his Welsh maiden. I told him to forget her. Who wants to be married to scenery? People who hail from these postcard childhoods, and won't let you forget it, seem so retarded, often the more ghastly these places are the more they are defended. People who come from 'somewhere' enter life old-fashioned and rather regressive. The cool thing is to come from nowhere and then the future can flourish...My criticism of being married to scenery comes right over into the film ["Wittgenstein"], which is set nowhere. It demonstrates that the historicizing attitude to biopic is totally irrelevant, questioning all of that in one black drape. It goes to show that Vienna is just a grand piano. Places are no longer of much interest to the sophisticated, after all they are all the same: you buy your Thai meal in Soho and your steak and chips in Bangkok."

Jarman was born in suburban London, so his own origins probably contribute to that perspective. He wasn't born anywhere unusual. I don't find places uninteresting, but I do agree that being too attached to the past, too anchored to self and identity, can hinder the future.

He is also endlessly critical of the royal family:

"We are taking off on this windy day for a holiday that has been cancelled endlessly by illness. The hovercraft is called Princess Margaret, it presumably runs on gin. A hovercraft is a lumbering sort of thing, rather like a large black beetle, which you can't quite believe flies. It seems to date from another technology, like Princess Margaret. I suspect she wears rubber skirts too."

Dave ordered some new clothes from Land's End (not rubber skirts) and they arrived yesterday. He's just been trying on a couple of the shirts and they are huge. "Is this too big?" he asked me, wearing something akin to a striped slipcover. Turns out he ordered everything XXL, which is way too big even for him. I don't know what he was thinking but I will probably wind up schlepping it all to the post office to send it back.

This is sitting in front of the house waiting for collection by the council -- our old disintegrating garden bench and the rusty wheelbarrow I used to transport Olga on her last trip to the vet. I'm glad to get rid of both items.

She's a Unit

I'm having some fun experimenting with the new camera in the garden, but I wish I could take it out on the streets. I can't really do that until my camera bag arrives, though! That should happen tomorrow. Meanwhile, lots of garden shots.

Even plain ol' houseflies look elegant sunning themselves on the flowers!

Thanks for all your concern about my ears. Let me just clarify -- although there's mild itchiness, there's no redness, heat, swelling or other sign of infection, and if it's an allergic reaction it's not a very severe one. It shouldn't be an allergy, because the earrings are titanium, which is hypoallergenic. (That's why it's used in medical implants.) If it persists or becomes worse I'll follow up with the piercing studio, but I really think it's just my ears' initial reaction to the mild injury of the piercing. In fact I'm less and less aware of it over time.

I spent yesterday morning reading on the garden bench, and Bailey stationed herself in the sun near the birdbath, just like Olga used to do. Bailey looks like a walrus or elephant seal, hauled up from the ocean with her gray-brown coloring and somewhat bulky (but muscular!) body.

I was walking her yesterday afternoon when a neighbor stopped me and asked about her. I told him her name and she enthusiastically welcomed his scratches. "She's a unit, though, isn't she?" he said.

Perplexed, I replied: "A what?"

He made a sort of He-Man muscle pose, and then I understood. "Yeah, she's strong," I said. I laughed about this later with Dave, who said the kids at school use the word "unit" this way. We both agreed that we should have named her Unit. It's likely to become one of her nicknames.

(From Google: "In slang, a unit (often used in the phrase 'absolute unit') describes a person or animal that is physically large, muscular, heavy, or impressively imposing.") Here's a Reddit thread about the age and origins of the term, which are apparently disputed.

I spotted this street sign on our dog walk, and laughed at the appended note. Yes, there is another way, via Fortune Green Road.

Last night we went out with our friend Gordon and his wife Donna, who we haven't seen in several months. We ate at Chez Rose near Bond Street, which was very good. (I had Dover sole meunière.) We traded stories of our summer adventures, their travels around Ireland in a camper van and our excursions through Italy and Croatia, including my tale of woe with my camera and my excavation of the garbage dumpster in Rome. Now that I've replaced the camera I can laugh about it -- sort of.

Itchy

Yesterday was pretty quiet. I spent much of the day hanging around in the garden, reading Derek Jarman and walking the dog. Normal stuff.

My earlobes are itchy after their piercing. The aftercare instructions said not to touch them, so I'm avoiding that, and I irrigate them with saline solution twice a day. I'm not supposed to use alcohol or hydrogen peroxide -- not sure why -- and I'm not supposed to turn the earrings the way we were all told to do years ago. Apparently that's not really necessary. The rule nowadays is hands-off.

I just want to scratch them in the worst way. (I take itchiness as a sign of healing, but who knows?)

The dog went berserk in the afternoon when she saw something in the garden, leapt off the couch and barreled out the back door at top speed. She nearly knocked over my table and somehow smashed a potted plant on the patio -- an Astrantia -- while rounding a corner. So then I had to dig a hole and plant the plant, because I didn't have another pot to put it in. That made me grumpy, and that was the state I was in when Dave came home from work -- grumbling and cursing about the dog.

I sometimes forget that people can hear me when I'm in the garden, and I do curse when I get snagged by roses or blackberries or when there are other mishaps. Sometimes it's just under my breath so I sound like Yosemite Sam, and sometimes it's an out-loud "For f--k's sake!" I told Dave yesterday that I probably need to be more careful about that, given that there's now a 10-year-old living upstairs.

I just read a few days ago that actress Phyllida Law died at the end of July. She's one of our neighbors! In fact, she's the one whose front garden features the bathing beauty I mentioned just a few days ago. I've never met her but when we first moved here I would occasionally see her in her front garden --- not so much in recent years. I had no idea she'd died and her house seems unchanged. I wonder what the plans are there? Since her famous daughter (one of them) lives right across the street it seems possible there will be no change at all. Emma may just keep everything as is. I hope so. Every time someone sells a house on this street the new buyer guts it and does a massive renovation that takes a year, and there's noise and scaffolding and skips and concrete mixers, and it would be nice to avoid all that. Besides, her garden with its statuary and figurines is a wonderful island of quirky individuality.

I also read an article about a right-wing provocateur who has visited Dearborn, Mich. several times to stir up trouble. Nothing special about that, except for this wonderful detail included by the reporter: the provocateur "declined to comment, chewing up a reporter’s business card." What a great way to show readers that he's basically a lunatic.

Found this in Kilburn. I thought it might be Latin but according to Google it doesn't really translate into anything -- "how much as how much" in Italian. Maybe how much is enough, or how much is too much? Or maybe it's gibberish. Who knows.

My Ear-Piercing History

I found this coleus in the trash at the cemetery while walking Bailey on Wednesday. Someone had obviously refreshed the landscaping on a grave and tossed it, and it was all withered, but I thought, "That plant still has life in it!" So now it's in a pot on our patio and, as you can see, it has perked right back up.

I love coleus and yet I rarely buy or plant them, and I have no idea why. I grew some several years ago but that was the last time. So thank you, cemetery gods, for bringing coleus back into my life.

As you can see, yesterday's ear-piercing adventure went off without a hitch. (They even gave me a lollipop, like the bank used to do when I was a kid.) I had it done over in Kilburn at a tattoo/piercing shop. I initially chose plain silver earrings but then, at the last minute, went for "diamonds" (not really diamonds). Why not get some bling?!

The piercing was by hand -- not with a gun, as it was when I first got my left ear pierced at Claire's way back in 1989 or so. This time around, my piercer (piercing technician?), a woman named Logan, carefully measured where the holes should be and made them level, and overall put a lot more consideration into it than the teenager at Claire's, who set my first piercing too low on the earlobe.

Et voila! I'm happy with them! I have to wear these studs two to three months before switching them out for hoops, which is my ultimate plan.

(Remember that ridiculous "rule" back in the day that straight guys got their ears pierced on the left, but gay guys on the right? Was that ever really true or just urban myth? I don't know why I got my first piercing on the left, because I was out to my friends and family by that time, but maybe I didn't want to be that publicly out. I always really wanted them both done, like George Michael in the "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" video, but that was unheard of back in the '80s, at least in Central Florida.)

I had my left ear pierced a second time in Morocco in September 1994. I was a Peace Corps trainer that summer, training new volunteers, and we called our training center by the French term stage, pronounced "stahzh." I wrote on Sept. 9: "I got my ear pierced again last night! ... It was another insane adventure. I raced all over downtown [Rabat] with Claudia and Mary trying to find a place that could do it -- and then, once we'd run through the medina (we had to get back to stage by 7:30 for dinner), we had to find a jeweler with a suitable pair of studs. Most everyone wanted to use these tacky, fake-diamond ones. Cheesy! I made some jewelry guy go hunt down a plain pair. All in all, I paid 50 Dirhams -- and we made it back to stage in time, breathless.")

Pretty funny that I thought fake diamonds were tacky and this time that's what I chose! Later I wore a small silver hoop in each hole. I wish I still had those hoops, which I bought in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, while traveling. As I recall I took them out after I came back to the USA and returned to work as a reporter in December 1994, and only wore them intermittently for the next few years after that. Eventually the holes closed up again.

Anyway, in the photo above you're seeing my new glasses, too. I've gone for a sort of Buddy Holly look. These are simple readers I ordered from Cubitts online and they're better than any glasses I've had in years. Certainly better than those awful varifocal (and then bifocal) lenses I got at the opticians the last time I went. Cubitts from here on out!

Some giveaways on the way to the piercer. I didn't take any of them, but Bailey (lower left) was interested!

New Camera!

Yesterday was devoted to righting what felt like a massive imbalance in my life -- my lack of a good camera. Ever since I lost my camera in Italy I've felt incomplete, and although the phone camera has served me well, I'd had several moments when I wanted to take a picture and couldn't because I didn't have the right lenses or capabilities.

The eclipse was a prime example. I don't know anything about the mechanics of photographing an eclipse, but I felt that I missed an opportunity to learn.

So yesterday I took the tube into town and went to Park Cameras and got myself back on track.

I thought I knew where the camera shop was, but as it turns out I did not. I took the tube to the wrong stop and wound up walking a bit to get to where I needed to go. But in a way that wasn't so bad, since it gave me a chance to stretch my legs and take a few phone pictures in Soho...

...like this one of The George pub, with some building work going on behind it.

Eventually I got to Park, told the guys there my situation, and wound up buying a Canon EOS R6 Mark III, and replacing the three lenses that I lost (I got slightly different ones, but with similar capabilities). While the camera I lost was a DSLR, this camera is mirrorless, which means it doesn't have an internal mirror and is entirely digital in its viewfinding. That may not mean much to you, but it's a newer technology and manufacturers aren't really making DSLRs anymore, so it seemed like the way to go.

So basically, I've replaced my kit and I now have a lighter, smaller camera that does everything my old camera used to do. And I've ordered a camera bag identical to my old one (which should arrive in a few days).

I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I was practically in tears walking away from the camera shop.

I haven't had a chance to use it much, because I had to get it home and unboxed, and then I had to charge the battery which took a couple of hours. In this post, only the top photo came out of the new camera. I've also discovered that if I get down on the ground and try to take pictures, Bailey thinks it's playtime and leaps on me with great enthusiasm.

I took the picture above with my phone in the Oxford Street tube station on the way home. That tobacconist looks like it hasn't been open in ages. The Coca-Cola sign dates back to 2012, when we hosted the Olympics, if that's any indication. At first I was confused by "Auto Service," but I assume that means you can serve yourself -- not that they'll fix your car.

In other news, longtime readers might remember my enthusiasm for the book "The Martian Chronicles." Well, I realized the other day that it is now August 2026, and in "The Martian Chronicles," which was written in the 1950s, one of my favorite stories is set in this very month -- "There Will Come Soft Rains," which describes earth after it has been destroyed by atomic war. Specifically, it describes an automated house going on robotically in the absence of its dead owners, making breakfasts that are never eaten and reading poetry to empty rooms. I first heard that story in the seventh grade and I've never forgotten it. Back then, August 2026 seemed like the far-distant future, and yet here we are. We haven't destroyed ourselves with atomic war (yet) but we do have artificial intelligence and Alexa playing us music and helping us run our homes. We are living in a time of science fiction.

Sweet Relief, and My Toes

It's cooler today, and we had more rain. I woke in the night and heard it pattering on the roof. Again, not a lot -- just a drizzle -- but better than nothing.

The Brugmansia seems to be thriving. We kept watering and watering it during our hot spells, and in return it has grown and now has five blossoms and 11 buds! The only way I could show the whole plant was to shoot it from above (and unfortunately I couldn't manage that without also showing you my toes).

Here it is from the side. Those zucchini-like things are buds for forthcoming flowers.

And here's what my weather app is telling me we can expect for the next 10 days. Woo hoo! If this proves true -- and that's a big IF, given how chancy the forecasts have been lately -- it will go a long way to setting the garden to rights after our drought. I don't think it will fully restore our water levels to where they should be, but this is just what we need for the plants -- repeated, soaking rain. And look how chilly it's going to get! Not sure the Brugmansia will like that.

I belatedly realized I forgot to tell you yesterday what happened with my ear-piercing plans. I intended to get it done Monday, but when I called our local piercing place, they said the woman who does it is on vacation until Thursday. I could have gone somewhere else -- I mean, it's London, and there are a zillion places to get pierced -- but instead I just scheduled an appointment for Thursday. So it's still happening, just not immediately.

I heard back from our travel insurer about my camera claim. They wanted more information, which I sent just now. So presumably that's grinding along. I'm hoping to go look at replacement cameras today. I've been reluctant to do so because I haven't wanted to leave Bailey alone, but I also have to live my life and the dog has to be comfortable getting along without me!

I'm still reading Derek Jarman's later diaries. Every once in a while I come across a passage like this -- where the words have been visibly redacted. I'm mystified about why this was done. Why not just eliminate that paragraph entirely, rather than show the blacked-out text? I can only assume that the lawyers intervened at a late stage in the editing process, and the words had to be redacted this way to avoid upsetting the type flow on all the ensuing pages. Of course it makes me wonder what he said!

The Spell is Broken

You won't believe what happened in the wee hours of this morning. It RAINED! Yes, we had actual rain drops falling from the sky, complete with the sweet petrichor aroma and the pattering sound. Our first rain in two months! And this morning, the birds are making noises and the world seems to have awakened from its long, dolorous dusty stupor.

I don't want to get too crazy because the rainfall was very brief -- a  matter of millimeters -- but we're supposed to have more in a couple of days.

So that's definitely our big news, but let me tell you about yesterday. I worked in the garden in the morning, cleaning up more old leaves and sticks in the wildlife area and behind the shed. Normally I'd leave all that for the critters, but in an effort to discourage Ratthew I'm trying to be a bit neater. Besides, Bailey has developed a habit of pulling old sticks out from behind the shed and bringing them out onto the lawn to chew. I'd rather she not risk ingesting wood shrapnel. Into the yard waste bag it all went.

In the afternoon we took a walk to the cemetery, where I found this odd stone circle standing in a roundabout at the intersection of several roads. This is a new feature in the cemetery, and I have no idea when it was installed or why. It's been there for a couple of weeks at least, if this YouTuber is any indication -- he seems to think it is a vortex of energy related to some supernatural force(s). I think it's probably just supposed to keep people from driving over the roundabout, a traffic barrier with artistic aspirations. (The first six minutes of his video are quite entertaining -- or at least they were for me, familiar as I am with the cemetery. I loved it when he got so freaked out by something moving in the trees. Maybe it was the turaco?!)

Bailey is not convinced of the stone circle's artistic merit. As you can see, some of the monoliths have colored glass balls and cylinders embedded in them, and at least one has a borehole through it. Another has a rusty bolt sticking out. It's a mystery!

On our morning dog walk, we found a shelf of free stuff being given away (above)...I thought later perhaps I should have taken that Lego parrot. Maybe I could have resold it! Some Lego kits are apparently quite valuable.

On nearby Sumatra Road, there's a little park with some playground equipment. Most of it is fenced, but there's a grassy verge bordering the street, and in that area several days ago Bailey and I encountered some raw meat lying on the ground. Very gross. Well, apparently whoever made this sign was also repulsed.

And finally, so as not to leave you with such an unpleasant mental image, here's a picture of one of our late-season zinnias. This particular plant has given us five flowers and it's unlike any of the other plants, which all have purple blossoms. Go figure!

Oh, and I solved a household mystery. I can't remember if I mentioned it here, but we've had three small windows in the flat that we've never been able to open. I couldn't tell if they were locked or broken but I was certain we didn't have a key for them. In fact I recently asked the management company to send someone to fix them.

And then yesterday, while cleaning, I looked more closely at a couple of keys hanging from a keyhole in the back of the glass door separating the hall from the living room. (Those doors are always open so we don't use the keys.) I thought they just went to the door, but by golly, there was a tiny window-lock key there too. And bingo! It opened our windows! We've lived here 14 years with those windows locked and that solution was within reach the whole time.

This is the kind of problem one finally has time to solve once one is retired!

Here's my rain video. I know it's dark and you won't be able to see much, but I want to share my joy at having some moisture fall from the sky. At the end, as a reward for sitting through the rain, you'll see Bailey scratching her leg and simultaneously licking the air -- a funny habit that never fails to amuse.