Refrigerator Slug

This pretty much describes the activity around here yesterday. Olga cannot get enough of sunbathing! See how our roses have begun to bloom?

I had a fairly busy morning. I did laundry, changed our sheets and towels and cleaned up a bit around the house.

I planted this penstemon that's been living in a pot for a couple of years. It was pot-bound and not really flourishing, so hopefully getting it in the ground will solve that problem. I consider this a major achievement. You know how I hate digging holes.

Look at the size of this burdock! It practically blocks the path up the side of the garden. I know people consider these plants weeds but I think they're fascinating. Dinosaur plants, Dave calls them.

Olga likes to eat dirt. We have no idea why she does this but usually she's standing up. Yesterday she couldn't be bothered, but lying down she had a little trouble getting leverage.

According to Google, "Dogs eat dirt for a variety of reasons, often related to their nutritional needs, behavioral quirks, or even as a way to self-medicate. Some common reasons include seeking minerals and nutrients, alleviating gastrointestinal discomfort, exploring scents and flavors, or simply due to boredom."

Dave tries to stop her but I just let her go for it.

About a week ago Dave brought home a package of British wild garlic. It was in a box with a plastic cover, and a few nights ago we decided we'd better use it, so Dave unboxed and washed it -- and a slug fell out! Not a very big one. I felt so bad for the little guy, having lived in our refrigerator for a week, that I set him loose in the garden. I don't see how one more slug could make much difference, and we know he's a British slug since he was in a package of British garlic. Hence I am not violating any DEFRA rules by releasing an exotic species. Fare well, refrigerator slug!

Interstellar (Again)

Just back from walking the dog, who this morning wanted her walk before I blogged. Honestly, she is getting more and more demanding with age. As are we all, I suppose.

The good news is, the gigantic box is gone.

Not much to report about yesterday. I finished most of the Lower School library inventory, and as usual they're missing more books than we are in the main library, but dealing with little kids is always a greater uncertainty in terms of keeping track of books. They walk out of the library with them, or shove them back onto a shelf where they don't belong, and leave them in classrooms or God knows where, and it can take a while for them to resurface. But at least now we know what's missing at the moment. I still have to inventory the biographies but I couldn't do that section yesterday because there were parent-teacher conferences and the library was being used for child care, and the little kiddies were too much underfoot. Next week.

Last night Dave and I watched "Interstellar," which we saw together in an IMAX theater eleven years ago (!). Anna Lapwood played some of Hans Zimmer's score at her concert on Thursday, which made me want to watch it again. Dave calls it one of his favorites. Once again, I was struck by its similarity to "2001: A Space Odyssey," which I still think is a superior film, but "Interstellar" is pretty amazing and its cast includes lots of well-known faces. I was surprised to see Timothée Chalamet appear -- when I saw it the first time he was unknown to me, so I didn't take note of his presence.

(Photo: A cafe/bar in Kensington.)

Twisty Ginger

Last night after work Dave and I went to a concert at Royal Albert Hall by Anna Lapwood, a 29-year-old organist who is apparently helping to make the organ hip for a new generation. I'd never heard of her until someone at work offered a group of us tickets, and Dave and I both got one. It was a fantastic concert, with orchestral and choral accompaniment and music by Max Richter and Camille Saint-Saëns, among others.

The organ is really an insane instrument. In the picture above, taken during the curtain call at the end of the show, Lapwood is standing in the yellow square above the stage. That's where the organist sits, with the organ itself rising above her, as big as a house. I can't imagine what it must be like to sit at a keyboard and produce sounds from that immense beast. Dave, who has done it (though not at Royal Albert Hall), says it produces a real rush of power, which I can understand.

Anyway it was a fun night out and not something I would have ever thought to do on our own.

Before the show, I had dinner at the Zetland Arms, a pub near the Albert, where I had a hamburger and finally finished a New Yorker article I've been carrying around for about a week. It was excerpts from Joan Didion's papers about her therapy sessions, written in the form of letters to her husband John Gregory Dunne. Because I find both Didion and Dunne fascinating characters I wanted to finish it, even though it was awfully navel-gazey.

Meanwhile Dave -- who gets off work about an hour before me -- came home to let Olga out. He sat with her a while but said she refused to either go out or eat, maybe because I wasn't home. She usually waits for me to do both. This dog is so wedded to her routines. Anyway, he left her and she was fine until we got home last night, when she happily went outside and then devoured a bowl of food before we all fell into bed.

This is what I found when I walked Olga yesterday morning. Someone dumped this immense cardboard box next to the bench in the pocket park at the corner. I was amused by the instructions on the box: "Dispose the packaging properly." Pretty sure this is not proper. The inside of the box was stuffed with even more cardboard, including numerous pizza boxes. Recycling won't usually take such large boxes unless they're broken down and stuffed into a bin, so maybe that was the problem. DISPOSE THE PACKAGING PROPERLY, people!

Remember that ginger root I planted? Well, this is what it looks like, the leaves all twisted together. The last ginger I grew did the same thing. At the time, blogger Ellen called it "pig-tailing," and said it may be due to a nutrient deficiency or an infection. I've been reading about ginger and I think I may have it in too much sun, for one thing. I'm going to move it to a shadier spot and we'll see what happens.

A Mystery Game

The noisy parakeets have been feasting on our bird feeders again. Even though I have a million photos of them, I can never resist a few more. On this particular day there were five birds out there. I only got three in this shot, but it was still the best because we can see all their faces.

Our brook thistles are blooming, a bright purple tuft against the brick side wall. They're on the side of the patio that faces Mrs. Kravitz's house, which gets the most sun.

Speaking of Mrs. Kravitz, some of you wondered where she's gone as I haven't mentioned her recently. To be honest, I'm not sure. I've said hi to Mr. Kravitz here and there -- he was out mowing his lawn a few days ago -- but I haven't seen or spoken to Mrs. K in months. I have a feeling she's been away. She has family overseas, so that would make sense, but I don't feel like I am really in a position to ask -- especially since we have not been on good terms recently.

I spent most of yesterday working in the Lower School library, helping with inventory. You'll recall that I already took inventory in our main library a few weeks ago. So now I'm working on all the kiddie books. They are a pain in the neck because they're so skinny but big and somewhat hard to handle, and the bar codes tend to be all over the place rather than consistently placed in the upper right corner of the back cover, as in the main library. So in other words I'm spending hours kneeling on the floor, pushing around big heavy stacks of books. This is the first year I've worked on inventory where I can recall thinking, "I'm not sure I can physically do this for many more years!"

Oh, here's a library-related question. We were cleaning out our stack of spare and uncatalogued board games the other day and found this:

None of us have any idea what this is. I did a Google reverse-image search and came up with several images of similar games, mostly with five dice -- so it seems we may be missing a die. I have no other information about what it's called or how it's played. Do any of you know?

Beware the Quince Thieves

The snails seem to have been activated by our recent rain. I found this one about two feet off the ground in our broom plant. I didn't realize snails would eat broom, but something motivated this one to climb up there.

Soon there were TWO of them. The snail network is buzzing! Fortunately brooms are tough and I have no doubt it can stand up to whatever damage these critters do. I left them alone.

I got a call Monday from our energy company, wanting to fit us with a smart meter. Now, I've been around and around with our utilities providers -- water or power or possibly both -- about fitting smart meters, which would transmit automatic meter readings. I'm pretty sure we were told we can't get them. As I recall there's something about our circuit breakers that they couldn't hook a meter to, and because we share a streetside water connection with the flat upstairs we couldn't get a water meter either. So I told the caller all that and she finally relented on the smart meter idea, but she asked me to send a gas meter reading because we hadn't had one in more than a year (!). In fact, she wanted it within 24 hours.

The problem is, when the Russians have parked their gigantic T-34 tank SUV in their parking space in front of the house, I can't get to our gas meter, which is right in the corner under the front steps. And that SUV is pretty much always there when we're home. On Monday evening I knocked on their door and asked when the tank car would next move. "Saturday," Mrs. Russia replied, and I explained that the gas company needed a reading before then. Mr. Russia quite helpfully volunteered to move it right away -- he said he needed to take a reading too, and their meter is also under the steps. So he backed the tank car out and we took our respective readings, and I reported it back to the energy company, and they sent me a revised bill that, if I understand it correctly, means we've actually been docked £30 more than we'd been charged before.

So that's the thanks I get for all that faff.

Oh, and I have another story about the Russians. Remember the quince plant that Dave rescued from the trash area? Well, Mrs. Russia called down to me from their terrace on Sunday morning and said they hadn't actually meant to throw it away. She said she was hiding it (?) behind the trash bins so no one would steal it from the front porch, where it had been sitting next to their door. Now, this seems implausible to me for many reasons, including: A) They have two other plants on the porch and they weren't hiding those, and B) They have a terrace, so why wouldn't they just move it there? Not to mention C) Who the heck would steal their spindly quince? It's been on the porch for at least a year, unbothered.

But of course I simply said, "Oh, sorry, we thought it was trash!" I returned it to her front doorstep right away, and they have now plunked it into the front garden, pot and all. It's just sitting there, a sort of vegetative afterthought, next to the front steps. Apparently they are no longer concerned about anyone stealing it.

A Power Blip

Well, yesterday proved to be unexpectedly eventful. I spent the morning pretty normally, checking out books in the Lower School and covering new books in the main library. (I caught up on all my book covering! Woo hoo!)

But then, shortly after lunch, I was sitting at my desk working on my computer when the room suddenly plunged into darkness and the air conditioner ceased. (My computer stayed on because of its back-up battery.) The power was only out for a second -- maybe even a fraction of a second -- before flicking back on again. I listened to all the devices around me whir and groan back to life and one of my co-workers said, "What was that?!"

It's very unusual for us to lose power. I imagine the guys in the tech department were freaking out about the computer servers. We soon learned that it wasn't just us -- the "blip" affected a large section of the city and threw the tube into disarray, causing service to be suspended on multiple lines. The electricity network said it was due to a transmission fault that was quickly resolved.

Normally I wouldn't have cared about the tube suspension -- I live only slightly more than a mile from school and as you know I usually walk anyway. But as luck would have it, I had a doctor's appointment down in Marylebone after work.

I wound up hoofing it down Finchley Road toward Baker Street and then over to the doctor's office. I passed Madame Tussaud's on the way, and was amused to find this large translucent image of Kate Moss on a partition outside the back door. How weird it must be to be Kate Moss and see your (presumably wax) face looming over the Madame Tussaud's service entrance.

And then we had a surprise rainstorm! The forecast said nothing about rain, but a big black cloud appeared complete with thunder and dumped a surprising amount of water. As you can see above, no one was prepared with an umbrella. I darted into a doorway and waited it out. It was like a Florida rain, very localized with big warm drops, and it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Apparently, I have developed the ability to conjure things up merely by mentioning their absence on my blog. Squirrels? Check! Rain? Check!

(I have noticed lately that I don't have much money. Let's throw that out into the universe and see what happens.)

Anyway, I made it to the doctor's office with minutes to spare, and registered at the front desk before being sent up to the third floor. And even this became surreal, because I got off the elevator and there was no one around. It was a silent hallway lined with doors, and none of them bore my doctor's name. I wondered what to do -- should I just yell for him? I decided instead to go back down to the front desk, which I did, and they called up and confirmed that the nurse was there. Then someone from the front desk accompanied me back upstairs, as if I were a small incompetent child, and he pointed to a sign on one of the doors where suddenly my doctor's name had appeared as if by magic.

"I swear that was not there before!" I said.

And then the nurse opened the door and confirmed that yes, she had in fact just changed the sign. Whew! I am not crazy.

The appointment was uneventful and then I had to get home again. Most of the tube lines were still out and the Jubilee Line, which I usually take, had severe delays. So I decided to take a bus. I walked partway up Baker Street just to get away from the congestion around the tube station, before catching the same numbered bus I rode with Dave from Marble Arch the day before. It carried me all the way up Finchley Road, practically to my doorstep.

Fortunately, the brief, heavy rain fell here too -- Dave said we even had pea-sized hail. The moisture has given the garden a boost and everything looks much happier all of a sudden. As you can see, our yellow peony is now blooming, as well as our clematis. Hopefully we've broken the cycle of dry weather and will now get some more regular precipitation.

We got take-away for dinner -- Dave was exhausted after school and I was too, having hoofed it all over Marylebone in a downpour. We ordered from a barbecue place on Baker Street that was surprisingly good. My only complaint was, no collard greens. What kind of barbecue place has no greens?!

Lunch at Dinner with Brass Band Accompaniment

Dave and I were at Marble Arch yesterday, trying to catch the tube, and we were surprised to find the arch covered by scaffolding. Apparently it's undergoing a big renovation/restoration. It normally looks like this (third picture).

Why were we at Marble Arch? Well, it was the conclusion of a long afternoon! We met up for lunch with one of Dave's friends from the world of band directing, Scott, and his partner Matt, who are visiting London. Scott's here on a sabbatical and Matt just joined him a week ago or so. We ate at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel -- a perfectly natural place for lunch, right?

Dave and I went to Dinner 12 years ago (!) and I remember being impressed by it. We liked it this time as well. We had a table by the big windows overlooking Hyde Park, where I ate adventurous dishes like buttered crab loaf and salmon dressed in champagne. In creating the menu, Blumenthal supposedly drew inspiration from English dishes served hundreds of years ago, but needless to say he's tweaked those ancient recipes quite a bit. I doubt anyone in the early 1700s was serving salmon with champagne gel.

Here was Dave's appetizer -- the "meat fruit," which is just what it says. It's a chicken liver parfait made to look like an orange, down to the tiniest detail. Again, probably a bit more refined than it was in 1500, which is supposedly when the dish was created.

While we sat at the table a marching band went by the windows in full regalia -- red or black jackets and tall plumed hats, accompanied by chaps in old-fashioned bowler hats and medals on their chests. We wondered what on earth was going on, and apparently it was an event known as Cavalry Sunday. There's a video of the band here in case you're interested. I don't see the gents in bowler hats in the video so maybe they came onto the program later. Anyway, that was an interesting surprise.

After lunch we walked across the park, despite massive quantities of blowing tree pollen that made me feel like my face had swollen to twice its normal size. We got to Marble Arch and found the tube station closed, so we wound up taking a bus home, but that was easy enough. There's one that runs from Marble Arch straight up Finchley Road practically to our door.

I gave everything in the garden a good watering yesterday evening, even the grass. I used the sprinkler, which we almost never put out, but we've had no rain in weeks and none is in the forecast. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I ran that sprinkler for probably two hours, moving it around so everything got a good drenching. I'm already hearing talk of drought and a possible hosepipe ban later in the summer because of reduced rainfall, so I figured we'd better water while we can.

Remember how I was lamenting the absence of squirrels in the garden this year? Well, I take it all back. Suddenly they're everywhere, and they're ravenous. Our oriental poppy was all set to bloom, sending up a fat fuzzy bud on a stalk, and I was so excited because it hasn't bloomed in several years. And then yesterday morning I went out and found it decapitated, the bud gnawed on the ground. I suppose, to a squirrel, it looked like some sort of exotic nut. No poppies this year. ☹️