The Fire Alarm

On my recent walk through Hammersmith

Every Monday afternoon, when the school day has ended and many kids have gone home but I still have a crowd in the library, the school tests its fire alarm. It's an agonizing process week after week -- a pre-recorded announcement of the test (featuring the voice of someone who hasn't worked at the school for years),  followed by an ear-splitting alarm. I have often wondered about the long-term effects on my hearing, being subjected to that test week after week.

Well, yesterday, after the test, I texted Dave: "Last time I'll ever have to do THAT!"

I'm having a lot of those moments. It's a nice feeling.

I've also had several more kids drop by my desk to wish me well, and a co-worker brought me a package of shortbread cookies that she picked up in Norwich over break, so little I'm getting little pre-retirement boosts here and there. I still can't quite believe I have only two days of work left.

Dave and I had the dog conversation again last night. Part of me wants to start looking for a new one to adopt, but we have a two-week trip coming up in July, so we're thinking it might be better to wait until that's past. The problem is, there will always be something like that on the horizon, won't there? I don't want to delay indefinitely, waiting for the perfect moment that never comes, and I know the minute I open up a dog-adoption website I'm going to want to re-home all of them. At least we're thinking and talking about it.

The mysterious floral arch is back at McD's on Finchley Road. I guess it's just a marketing thing -- not in celebration of any particular occasion or event. You know, I haven't eaten at a McDonald's in years. The last time I can think of was in 2014 in Abu Dhabi, on our way to the Seychelles. Every once in a while when I'm away for dinner, Dave will order a McDonald's delivery to the flat. I used to love going there as a kid -- I specifically remember going in 1977 with my mom and brother and sitting outside on the patio, and then going to see "Star Wars" in the nearby cinema. And as I've mentioned, I worked there in high school. But it just doesn't appeal to me now.

Starlings Ravage the Lavender

Well, the big development yesterday was Viktor Orban losing in Hungary. That's great news and hopefully a sign that the world is turning away from nationalism and authoritarianism. The Hungarian voters turned out in record numbers and chose a closer alliance with the EU over strengthening bonds with Putin's Russia and Trump's USA. All I can say is, amen to that. Trump, you're next!

I'm giving you just a few pictures today, because otherwise I'll have to write a whole post about reading on the couch and I'm not sure that's possible!

Our miniature purple orchid is blooming again (above). I took that picture right after giving it one of its periodic showers.

This squirrel was doing some acrobatics to reach the suet balls in our bird feeder. Doesn't that starling look annoyed? This feeder is a replacement for the one we had previously, which was falling apart. It's narrower and I've noticed that the birds tend to fight each other off when they're eating from it. You'd often see two birds at a time perched on the old one, one on either side, but this one is a single-bird model. (And single squirrel!) It also doesn't have an external cage, which wasn't completely effective at keeping squirrels at bay, but it helped. Maybe I need to find another feeder.

Our pink-flowering cactus is blooming again -- only the second year it's given us flowers. Weirdly, I don't see any blossoms at all on the yellow one. It appears healthy but I guess it's taking the year off.

Yesterday afternoon a couple of starlings were ravaging our lavender plant by the back door. They were pulling new leaves and sprouts off the plant and flying off with them. I assume they're using them to line a nest. Maybe they like the aroma? I'm sure the plant can handle it but I still wanted to tell them to take it easy!

Fabergé

Does your town have these rental bikes? They seem like a good idea until you see a conglomeration like this. I took this picture on The Strand in Westminster, but even at the top of the street where we live, there's often a mass of these things parked and awaiting the next rider. (Both bikes and e-scooters.) I've never ridden one myself because I think getting on a bike in this town is like having a death wish, but they are popular. I just wonder if there aren't too many of them, and if there isn't a better way to control or regulate their parking.

I read the craziest story in The Guardian on Friday about a woman who had her £1,600 Givenchy bag stolen from a pub in Soho. That would be bad enough, but inside the bag were an Apple laptop, Apple AirPods, a £350 store voucher, £200 worth of makeup, £20 in cash and -- get this -- a £2.2 million emerald-encrusted Fabergé egg and watch set. Now, I don't mean to blame the victim, but what on earth would possess someone carrying a Fabergé egg to stop at a pub? If I had a Fabergé egg in my Givenchy bag (unlikely) I'd be headed straight to wherever I kept my safe, and I'd be on red alert every step of the way. The thief was caught after grabbing the bag while its owner was smoking, and then trying to use her bank card nearby. He went to jail, but the egg has not been found.

(Every time I hear Fabergé I think of Eddie Murphy's skit about buying his father Christmas presents: "Brut -- by Fabergé." Somehow, through the mysteries of capitalism, the jewelry and the cologne are linked, after cosmetics companies acquired the Fabergé brand name in the 20th century. There's still Fabergé jewelry too, so don't ask me to explain who owns what.)

Anyway, nothing that exciting has been going on around here, thank goodness. I had another quiet day yesterday, spent mostly reading. I also cleaned the outside of our kitchen cabinets, which is one of those infrequent but necessary household jobs. At some point I need to do our windows but I think I'll save that for next week, when I am retired!

My renewed US passport arrived in yesterday's mail, so that's something I don't have to think about anymore.

This is our last official day of Spring Break. The week has flown by. I have three more work days and then, after this coming Wednesday, I'm done. As the day creeps closer I'm a bit more apprehensive about how I'm going to spend my time and what it's going to be like, talking to no one all day. I might love it, because I'm kind of a solitary person anyway -- "odd and peculiar," as my mother used to describe us all -- or will I miss human contact? Time will tell!

Jump!

I woke up this morning with the Pointer Sisters' song "Jump" running through my head. Why this happened, I can't imagine. I've never owned the record, or any other Pointer Sisters records. I've never even liked the song. So what on earth, out of all the billions of songs in my brain, made my internal jukebox choose that one to begin the day?

We seem to be going through a bit of a cold snap all of a sudden. Nighttime temperatures on Monday and Tuesday are forecast to drop to 40º F (or 4.4º C). I'm hoping I didn't pot up all those dahlias a little too early. Apparently they hate being cold and wet, and we have a 50 percent chance of rain today and tomorrow.

Speaking of which, the freaking squirrels got into the dahlia pots yesterday and excavated several of them. They didn't dig up the bulbs but they sure made a mess. I had to redistribute the dirt and put some pottery shards and metal screening on top to keep them out. I do this every year. I don't know why I'm surprised.

I brought the Rhipsalis cactus back inside, after those little furry gray monsters reminded me how destructive they can be. No need to tempt fate there.

Having said that, the garden is still looking springlike. Our African daisies (Osteospermum) are blooming like crazy (top), as are...

...the forget-me-nots...

...the bluebells...

...and the camassia lilies. I just read on Wikipedia that camassias are related to asparagus and agaves. Who knew? Who even knew asparagus and agaves were related to each other? Biology is so strange.

Aside from shifting around more plants, I spent most of yesterday reading. I caught up on blogs and read more of my book, "The Haves and the Have-Yachts." I'm on a section that discusses a trend among the superrich to have pop stars come and perform at birthday parties and bar mitzvahs. Can you imagine? Apparently, for five million dollars, you can have the Rolling Stones come to your spacious back garden (or the appropriate venue of your choice) and sing to your spouse or mother-in-law. Rock and pop stars don't mind because they make a ton of money for a short, low-pressure gig, and the billionaires are willing to pay because what else are they going to do with their money?

You could not, however, have the original Pointer Sisters come and perform "Jump" for you, because only one of them is still alive. And she's 80, so she may not be jumping much anymore.

*Addendum: Actually, if she's like the woman in this article, she might be!

It's Dahlia Time, and Movie Music

I barely left the house yesterday, so here's another picture from my walk through Fulham on Wednesday. I thought that corner shop with the clock face was intriguing. Looks like it's for rent.

And here's a mystery. I passed a little plot of land off Colehill Gardens that was positively engulfed in weeds, but in among the weeds I could see chairs and benches. It looked like a small park or open space that had been allowed to run wild. Google Street View shows it 13 years ago as a cleared (if still rather viney) space containing tables and chairs. I wonder if it's a fenced garden belonging to the adjacent houses, or perhaps to a single owner, and they have simply chosen to let it be a wild space? On Wednesday the gates were locked and it looked like no one had been in there for a long, long time.

Here's our own garden, which looks only slightly less wild. Although I was home all day yesterday, I was working. My mission: to get the dahlias out of the shed and prepared for another growing season. Having inadvertently used lousy compost last year, I was determined to give them a better life this summer, so I bought new soil and repotted every single one of them. I also pulled apart and rinsed the tubers, and divided some of the plants so they'd have more room in their pots. Hence, we now have 13 pots containing dahlias, which is a completely insane number.

A lot of the tubers had rotted since I last examined them, which is strange. I don't know if I overwatered them last summer or if they got damp (or froze) in the shed over the winter, but in any case I clipped off all that rotten material when I repotted them. I didn't lose any entire plants, as far as I could tell.

It took a couple of hours and two trips to the hardware store for soil, but I finally got all that accomplished. Some of the tubers already have little sprouts emerging.

Dave and I also went on a houseplant cleanup binge. This started because we decided to get rid of a big, misshapen ZZ plant we had in the foyer. It wasn't looking too healthy and I've never liked it, because it was so heavy I could barely move it to clean. We lugged it outside, Dave chopped up the apparently diseased plant for the yard waste bin, and I put the still-heavy empty pot at the back of the garden with the proviso that whatever we put in it needs to be an outdoor plant in a permanent place. I am never moving that pot again.

Getting rid of the ZZ gave me access to the windowsill holding the Rhipsalis cactus (above), which I realized has a mealybug infestation. So I moved it out to the patio and rinsed it off. I'm planning to let it live outdoors for a while. That usually helps bring bugs under control.

I also moved a bunch of other plants outside for the summer -- two rubber trees, our big aloe, the gigantic yucca in our bedroom and the jade plant, which also has some kind of pest problem. I'm hoping some outdoor time gives them all a boost. I have been feeling a bit oppressed by the quantity of our indoor plants so this is a welcome change. I can actually access the dining room windowsill now, which needs a good cleaning of its own.

ISN'T THIS EXCITING?!?!?

What is exciting is my cosmos seeds are beginning to sprout! Woo hoo!

I also found another dead rat in the garden yesterday morning, which was very weird. Two rats in two days. I buried this one too. Is Pale Cat leaving us gifts? Is someone flinging them over our garden fence? Are they ingesting poison somewhere and coming here to die? I don't see one this morning, so hopefully that grim streak has now been broken.

Last night, aching from the day's exertion, Dave and I went to the Barbican for a performance. One of his students gave him a Barbican gift certificate for Christmas in 2024, and all last year we failed to use it. It actually expired, and when I realized that, I e-mailed the Barbican to plead for an extension, which they generously granted. One of my Spring Break goals was to use this freaking gift certificate, so I found a performance of movie and TV soundtrack music, part of the London Soundtrack Festival, and we went.

It was called "Homegrown Heroes -- From Bond to Thunderbirds." The first half was a collection of themes by various composers, performed by an orchestra of seasoned studio musicians, from well-known productions including "Wallace & Gromit," "Enola Holmes," "Atonement" and, indeed, "Thunderbirds." The second half was devoted to the work of composer David Arnold, and if you've seen movies such as "Independence Day," "Godzilla" or "Stargate," not to mention Bond films including "Quantum of Solace," "Casino Royale" and "Tomorrow Never Dies," then you've heard Arnold's music. He was actually there, receiving an award, which was an interesting and unanticipated brush with fame. Not that I shook his hand or anything.

Oh, and apologies to those of you who have apparently been counting down and thought yesterday was my last day of work. I'm actually on Spring Break this week, so my countdown has been paused. Work begins again on Monday, but only for three days -- next Wednesday is my final day before blissful retirement.

Still Not Dying, Plus Books

I did go get a private x-ray yesterday morning, and in fact I have the results already: Normal. That is what I wanted to hear from the hospital on Tuesday, not this "it-takes-us-28-days-to-read-it" baloney. I know it sounds crazy, given that I'd had clear scans just a few years ago, but I've been having a lot of congestion and shortness of breath and I was worried -- not least because a friend of mine just died from lung cancer last week.

I probably shouldn't go irradiating my lungs anymore or this will become a self-fulfilling prophecy, but at least I know that for now, all is well. (My heart is also fine.)

After I got the x-ray, I took a walk through Hammersmith and Fulham, all the way down to the Thames. Fulham Palace Road, which runs past Charing Cross Hospital and the park surrounding the Bishops' Palace, isn't the most scenic road in the world but I found a few decent photos.

Those of you who read Mr. Pudding's blog will recognize this bookshop, which he posted about a couple of months ago. I had never been there, though I'd ordered a book from them online, so I made sure to find it when I was in the neighborhood. It's surprisingly tucked away but I eventually figured out its location. I did not go inside because at the moment I need another book like I need a hole in the head, but maybe after I'm retired and caught up on all my reading (does that ever happen?) I'll check it out more thoroughly.

All those books piled outside the windows -- lots of travel guides and paperback novels -- are on sale for a pound apiece. I think they stay outside, covered by tarps. There's no way the owner moves them in and out every night.

The books in the windows look more collectible. I'm sure this shop must do a lot of business online, like many booksellers these days. That little shop is so packed that it's a bit intimidating to a casual shopper. (It was to me, anyway!)

After I came back home, I finished my own library book, "Flashlight," at long last. I enjoyed it but it took me forever to read so I'm glad it's finally off my plate. I've started a new one by Evan Osnos, "The Haves and the Have-Yachts," about multibillionaires and the increasingly unequal distribution of the world's wealth, which looks interesting and possibly enraging.

I worked a bit in the garden, and found a dead rat mysteriously lying beneath one of our trees. It didn't look mangled, just dead. I buried it for fear it had eaten poison somewhere, in which case I didn't want some bird or fox to ingest it.

Last night we watched the Huw Edwards movie from Channel 5, which several other bloggers mentioned. I enjoyed it, if one can enjoy such a troubling story. You just gotta wonder what that guy was thinking. I mean, if you're having secret gay fantasies and looking for a way to explore those, there are plenty of perfectly legal channels online, available at a keystroke. How does one go from garden-variety twink porn to communicating with (and paying off) teenagers? Astonishing.

Here's my favorite recent New Yorker cartoon:

Sidewalk Bouquet and Hoarder Fishing

I had some medical errands to run yesterday. I've been having trouble with coughing and occasional breathlessness once again, with no obvious cause. In the past I've believed these conditions to be related to gastro-esophageal reflux (GERD, or GORD as it's called in England, because "oesophagus" here begins with an O). But my usual GERD treatment doesn't seem to be having any effect, so I went to the doctor in the morning, and she wanted me to get some standard blood tests and a new chest x-ray.

After seeing her, I walked straight over to the Royal Free Hospital, where I got the x-ray done lickety split. But then the technician told me the results won't be reported for 28 days! Apparently they have quite a backlog. That seems crazy to me, particularly if something bad is going on. (I may get my own private x-ray today, which will report results in about 24 hours. They're not expensive.)

On the way to the hospital I passed these ruffly camellias lying on the pavement -- a sort of springtime sidewalk bouquet.

I also passed this nice wooden basket sitting by the rubbish bins in front of an apartment building. I think it's a baby basket, like a bassinet? It's really nice and if I needed a basket or could think of anything to use it for, I'd have taken it. (And also if I hadn't been on my way to the hospital, because I couldn't very well carry that thing along.) Anyway, I left it there.

As I said, I also needed blood tests. They had to be scheduled, and the soonest the Royal Free could do them was April 20. But I found that Barnet Hospital, in far north London, could do them right away. I made an afternoon appointment there. That left me with several hours to kill, so I did some photo walking.
 

Remember this decrepit shop? I first photographed it way back in 2011, and then blogged about it in 2020. It has grown gradually more and more sad-looking over the years. When I first saw it, it was actually open. In 2020 it seemed somewhat operational, perhaps on a restricted basis because of Covid.

Well, now there are no signs of life. The "Fishing" sign is gone, one of the windows in front is broken and the inside is a wreck. (Never mind the building itself, which judging from the condition of those upstairs windows is pretty much open to the weather and the pigeons. You can't really tell, but there are two of them sitting in the upper right window.)

Here's the interior, shot through the window. I suppose someone could still be doing business in there, but it's hard to tell. That area toward the rear, through that low doorway, is just piled with stuff. It's a fishing shop for the TV show "Hoarders."

Anyway, having checked that out, I caught the tube from Chalk Farm all the way up to Edgware (which you may recall I visited several months ago). I stopped in at a Wendel's bakery there and bought their lunch deal -- drink, sandwich and snack for something like £5. I got a cheese sandwich ("no mayo," the label helpfully reported) and it was the most tasteless thing I've ever eaten. I ate it sitting on a wall in front of the Edgware public library. At least I got to enjoy the day if not the food.

Then I caught a bus to Barnet Hospital, where I had my blood drawn. Afterwards I wandered around the high street in Chipping Barnet, which I'd hoped might make for some good photography, but I wasn't all that impressed. Just a bunch of chain stores and modern shopfronts, for the most part.

The S&M Local was mildly funny. Whips and chains?

I caught two buses all the way back to West Hampstead, where I made a martini and caught Dave up on the adventures of the day, and he, in return, informed we that we had not yet started bombing the heck out of Iran. (And still haven't, apparently, given Trump's last-minute reprieve.) If our objective is regime change, how does bombing the country help? Seems like that pretty much unites the entire populace against us. Destroying bridges and power stations will not win us hearts and minds.