Saturday, April 19, 2014
We Did Not Eat the Worm
Our weather is a tad schizophrenic at the moment. Thursday was so warm I went without a jacket, but yesterday had a chilly edge. It was about 50ºF when I went walking in Shoreditch to renew my stock of London photography. I had a great walk and caught up with some street art, which I've been pretty much ignoring in recent months.
When I came back to Notting Hill I dropped by the florist near our flat to ask what happened to the homeless woman who lived on the doorstep there. (You may remember that I wrote about her in mid-February and she vanished about a month after that.) Turns out her name is Sarah, and she was picked up by Social Services because, as the florist put it, "she was getting really bad." (Whatever that means.) They said they think she's in the hospital now. At least she's hopefully being well cared for.
In return for this information, I bought three stems of delphinium for the insane price of £21.
Dave and I then ran some errands, including going to a local pet store for an emergency supply of hypoallergenic food for Olga. I belatedly realized yesterday that her food supply has dwindled and here we are, in the middle of a long holiday weekend. Our usual supplier -- the vet -- is closed until Tuesday! Yikes! The pet shop we visited didn't have her usual food but we cobbled together some options to keep her fed into next week, and also bought her a new harness (red, because they were out of the pink). Everything together came to the insane price of £85.
I am all for supporting local businesses, I really am. And I understand how they might cost a bit more. But clearly we can't really afford our local businesses.
Finally, I met up last night with my friend Jennifer, from my newspaper days in Florida, who's visiting London. We all had drinks back at our flat, and while she was here the dementia-afflicted magazine man stopped by and asked us for a magazine. All we had handy was a New Yorker, which I hadn't even read except for Ian Frazier's fascinating piece on horseshoe crabs -- but I gave it to him anyway. Then the three of us went to dinner at the pub across the street, where the manager -- who knows me and Dave -- gave us each a free tequila shot, which seems like a weird thing to dole out in a British pub. I have never done a tequila shot in my life, but now I can say I have. I probably never will again.
(Photo: Taking a smoke break outside Liverpool Street Station near Shoreditch, yesterday morning.)