Bridges, Bleak House and Burros

I belatedly realized that I may have caused some confusion by titling yesterday's post "London Bridge" but showing a picture of Tower Bridge. Tower Bridge is what you see from London Bridge, but it's not the same as London Bridge. Sorry about that!

In fact, the BBC article I linked from that post (here it is again) addresses a longstanding myth about the two bridges -- that the man who bought old London Bridge and moved it to Lake Havasu, Arizona, mistakenly believed that he was buying Tower Bridge. His grandson says that isn't true at all. "My grandfather knew exactly what he was buying," he said.

Anyway, hopefully I have cleared that up!

I had possibly the laziest day of my entire life yesterday. It was rainy and blustery and I spent the entire day on the couch with Olga, who showed no inclination to want to go anywhere. Both of us were in hibernation mode. I watered the plants in the morning and did some vacuuming, and just before and after lunch I struggled to keep my eyes open while reading. I don't know why I was beset with such fatigue considering I'd barely done anything.

My eyes may have been involuntarily closing because I was reading "Bleak House." I'm about 250 pages in, and I think I can already say that this is not my favorite Dickens novel. I had no idea what it was about when I began it (lawyers) and it bothers me for a couple of reasons. One, the perspective keeps shifting from an omniscient narrator to the first-person account of a main character, a young woman. (I think this is the first Dickens I've read with a female protagonist.) Second, there are about a million characters, some of whom have two names, and some of whom have very similar names -- I kept reading about Mr. Turveydrop and his "deportment," but I was confusing him with Mr. Tulkinghorn.

Again, I chalk some of this up to the fact that I was nodding off. But I will persevere.

Let's look at a few more of the old postcards that Jeanie gave me last week. Here's one of a small marina on Bradenton Beach, Fla., mailed in 1953.

"Arrived home Thursday noon. Had a nice trip down, found everything OK, it is no warmer here than in Ohio. -- Mr. and Mrs. Francis, Judy & Pee Wee"

Mailed 1944 from Bakersfield, Cal.:
"Hello Linnis -- I am sending you a pair to work on the farm this spring. How do you like them? How much do you think they are worth? -- Bill Greene"

(On the front: "These are out on the desert where I work.")

This one, mailed in 1910 from Topeka, Kan. to Albuquerque, N.M., gave me a chuckle:

"Dear Arthur & Marie: This is the crossroad to your farm a few years hence. -- Della"

(Top photo: Dramatic shadows on Finchley Road on Friday afternoon.)

London Bridge

Well, I was wrong about the weather yesterday. It was rainy in the morning, but just before lunchtime the sun came out and the afternoon was beautiful. As you can see from the photo above, showing Tower Bridge and HMS Belfast on the Thames, I decided to go on a little excursion.

Blogger Jeanie, who you'll recall I met up with Wednesday night, brought me some old postcards, because she knows I'm a fan of old ephemera like that. She forgot to give them to me on Wednesday but she left them in an envelope at the front desk of her hotel, where I picked them up a day or two later. They were mostly American but thrown into the mix was this:

That is a view of London Bridge meant to be seen through a stereoscopic viewer, which would in theory give it a three-dimensional perspective. It was sold by Montgomery Ward, so it had probably not actually come from London, but was instead a way for Americans to "see the world" without traveling in an era when travel was difficult, time-consuming and expensive.

I tried to figure out how old the picture is. The same card is available on Wikimedia, dated circa 1895-1900. Another very similar image, also said to be from a stereopticon card and probably taken by the same photographer -- is dated "early 1890s." (They look like the same picture but the arrangement of the pedestrians is different, so they must have been different exposures.)

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to go down to London Bridge and compare the view to see what it looks like now.

And here's the answer. I couldn't get the same altitude as the photographer of the stereoscopic image -- maybe he was shooting out a window or from a rooftop? But you get the idea.

In the old photo, across the river you can see the Monument, and immediately to its right the steeple of the church of St. Magnus the Martyr, and then farther to the right another church spire. None of that is visible now, having been hemmed in by more modern buildings. (Maybe the top of the Monument or the St. Magnus church spire would still be visible if that building on the riverfront wasn't covered in white scaffolding, or if I could attain the card photographer's elevated perspective -- I'm not sure.)

And of course the bridge itself is also different, the old one having been famously "falling down," sold to an American oil tycoon, and moved to Lake Havasu, Arizona. Here's the full story on that, according to a BBC article from just a few days ago.

I walked across the bridge thinking I might go up in the Monument, which I've never done. But alas, it was closed. It commemorates the Great Fire of London in 1666. Instead I settled for having coffee and a cookie while sitting beneath it on the plaza.

I tried to figure out what church is visible on the right in the old photo, and I eventually settled on this one -- The Guild Church of St. Margaret Pattens. Like the Monument, it has been overshadowed by more modern buildings including the "walkie-talkie," at left.

Anyway, it was a fun day out and a good way to experience a sunny afternoon!

Fog

It was damp and misty yesterday morning, the garden shrouded in a soft white fog.

Olga and I went on our walk to the corner, but I was running late for work so I had to hustle her home again pretty quickly.

The spider webs were exactly like a child's drawing, beaded with misty droplets.

I've got the dehumidifier going again, and this weekend we're looking at two days of rain -- so it's got a job to do!

Yesterday during my lunch break I tried to comment on several blogs, and Blogger would not let me. I kept getting a "your comment failed to post" message. I hope it was a temporary glitch and not something based on the school's Internet security settings, because that would mean I can't comment from school anymore, which would truly be a huge pain for me. (I also couldn't answer my own comments, but I will try to catch up today.)

I'm looking forward to a weekend of "Bleak House," which I have allowed to languish untouched for several days now.

Maw and Manifest

The vine that covers "the maw," the pedestrian bridge that runs across the tube tracks in West Hampstead, is now a flaming red. It's just about the only time of the year that the maw is attractive. I suppose the steps wouldn't be so dark and shadowy if it weren't for the vine, but I'm glad the council (or whoever has responsibility for this bridge) has left it.

And here's the tree at the top of the hill near our flat -- always one of the first to change. Autumn color all around!

I repotted the rescued dracaena I mentioned yesterday. This one really is a long shot. Most of the roots were dead. I think there was a single surviving root, or maybe a few of them. I discarded most of the dead roots and the root ball and put the stalk with its few remaining roots in fresh soil. They're tough plants, so we'll see what happens.

A few days ago I got a thank-you note from my niece for a graduation gift I sent her. She mailed it in JULY! Why it took so long to get here I have no idea. She had the address, city and post code right, though I noticed that someone at the post office hand-wrote LONDON in big letters on the envelope, as if it went some other place first. They also blacked out all the little bar codes and whatnot that sorting machines usually leave on the envelope. So who knows what happened there. Just further evidence that our postal systems are collapsing, but at least it got to me in the end.

I heard back from the doctor about my recent tests. My calprotectin level, measuring gut inflammation, is still elevated, so she's referring me back to the gastroenterology team at the hospital. I am unclear what happens next. I feel mostly OK -- maybe slightly more tired than usual --  but I think we have to get to the bottom of what's happening and whether it's an early sign of anything serious. There's no blood where blood shouldn't be, so that's a good thing.

Dave had to work last night, so I warmed up some leftover chicken and watched the last couple of episodes of "Manifest." It's a wacky show, a jumbled grab-bag of plot points involving tarot, Noah's ark, dragons, jewels endowed with mystical powers, bizarre meteorological events, rock carvings, evil government operatives, you name it. The premise is that a flight experiences severe turbulence during a storm, and when it lands, everyone on the plane is shocked to find that five years have elapsed. How this happened is never quite explained, beyond the involvement of a supernatural or divine force. Dave gave up on the show a long time ago but I kept watching it all the way to the end of its fourth and last season -- I developed an affection for the characters despite the absurdity of the plot. Now, time for a new series!

Sea Glass Quilt

Our community art show at school is coming down, and I walked over to the gallery yesterday to pick up my very blue photo. While I was there, I photographed this piece in more detail. I remember some of you commenting on it so I thought you might want a closer look.

It's a "sea glass quilt" made by a parent, and although I'd love to give her credit I also want to protect her privacy, so I won't name her. It's made from scraps left over from earlier quilting projects, she said in her description. She called it "Flow" and said in her mind it connects the recipients of those projects and the lessons she learned working on them.

Also, after viewing the video in my earlier post -- which you can see by clicking the link above -- blogger Ellen asked about the sculpture of the woman sitting on an egg and what it was made of. I took a second look and it was glass. (Nothing like answering a reader question a month late, right?!)

Finally, I'd meant to include in my earlier posts the words of a woman who knitted a sweater shown in the show. She mentioned how she'd dipped in and out of knitting through her life, and said, "You don't need to do art every day to be an artist. You can leave it for days, weeks, months or years. It's not going anywhere." As one who often feels compelled to get out and take pictures, I found that such a comforting thought.

Here's my latest plant rescue project. Yes, it's another Dracaena, found a few days ago next to a trash bin at work. As I was looking at it, trying to decide whether to take it on, the principal of our Lower School walked past and said, "You can't save it. It's too far gone." I said, "I think I might be able to, actually!"

I brought it to the library and put that sign on it saying, "Please do not discard. I'm in 'plant hospital.'" Yesterday I brought it home. I'll repot it and probably keep it here until it revives, but I've promised Dave I will then take it back to the library, because we already have five rescued Dracaenas and we really do not need one more.

Finally, last night I got to meet fellow blogger Jeanie of The Marmelade Gypsy. She and her partner Rick are visiting England from Michigan, and they stopped by West Hampstead to meet Dave and Olga. We stepped outside to see the garden and Olga managed to both bark at us incessantly and roll in black mud, so that was fun. We then went to dinner at a restaurant on the high street (Olga stayed home) and had a great time. Jeanie is artistic, articulate and interesting, as you'll know if you read her blog, and Rick's career path was somewhat similar to my brother's in municipal planning so I enjoyed talking to him too -- yet another positive "IRL" encounter with blogland!

Cacti and the Pink Blanket

Another day, another leaf! Nature's little miracles of design at this time of year.

Yesterday was pretty nondescript. It was board game night in the library, and there was some last-minute setting up to do for that -- and I DO mean last-minute. The event started at 4 p.m. and at about 3:45 my boss realized she needed a table to display all the games and had forgotten to request it. I just assumed she'd decided to leave them on the cart, but no! So I ran downstairs and found someone to bring us a table and we set everything out, just finishing up as people were walking in the door.

I didn't stick around to play games. It's not really my thing. I have occasionally enjoyed board games in a group -- like when I'd go to my friend Kevin's for Thanksgiving years ago -- but I bet I haven't played one since then.

Now that the dahlias are fading, here's the next thing to bloom -- the Thanksgiving/Christmas cacti! As you can see, my bright pink ones (on the left) have buds already. The second one from the left at top is my salmon-colored one, which I brought back from the dead and which has a few tiny buds as well.

The other two are the white/light pink variety that blog reader Frances sent me years ago as a tiny cutting. You may remember the first plant I grew from the cutting got root rot and died, but I took more cuttings and kept them going. I think this is the healthiest all my cacti have looked! I don't see any buds on the white ones yet, but fingers crossed. (Or do I have the white and salmon ones mixed up? Hmmm...)

I can hear my brother now: "STOP TALKING ABOUT PLANTS!"

I just talked to him last night on the phone, actually -- an unexpected pleasure. He called about some family business but it was fun to catch up on other stuff too. I don't know why we don't talk more often. I've turned into such a terrible communicator.

I'm thinking it's about time to throw away Olga's pink blanket. It's got that gigantic, frayed hole in the middle and we've actually cut it into two pieces, so she won't get tangled up in it. (This is the biggest floor space I could find in the house to lay it out and take a picture!)

As I'm sure I've written before, this blanket used to be on my bed in the winter when I was a kid. It's about as old as I am -- almost 60 years.

And it is still much-loved! I suppose we'll keep it a while longer.

Street Work and Halloween

I came across these autumnal trees walking home from work yesterday. It's amazing how fast the leaves change. It seems that all we need are a few cold nights and suddenly we have autumn.

Remember that sign indicating our street would be closed for a few days beginning on the 14th? Well, this is what the closure looks like. I have no idea what's going on here, exactly, except that it's a Thames Water project and it's linked to that house on the right, which has recently been entirely gutted and basically rebuilt except for the outer shell. It's been a long, long renovation process and I guess they're getting a new water hookup, maybe?

Meanwhile, at work, our Halloween book display went up yesterday, with the help of some enterprising parent volunteers. (All I did is pull the books.) I like the witches' hats hanging from the ceiling!

Not to mention the big, hairy spider hanging off my desk!