Friday, July 1, 2016
Surfing and Nigeria
I swear, it's like winter around here this week. We're having lots of gray skies, intermittent rain and temperatures in the 50s and 60s. I'm wearing a sweatshirt. Every time the sun peeks through for a brief second, I think, "I remember you!" -- and then it's gone.
Our banking drama is done. We have now fully migrated to an account where we won't be charged monthly. So that's a relief. Our lease renewal, meanwhile, remains in limbo.
The disaster that is Brexit continues to unfold, as it will for months and years. The financial industry is discussing which city should replace London as Europe's financial capital, with the attendant departure of thousands of jobs. Meanwhile, Boris Johnson won't be our next PM, which is fine with me.
Honestly, I don't have much else to tell you. I spent yesterday in the garden and on the couch, reading William Finnegan's surfing memoir, "Barbarian Days," which I'm loving even though I know nothing about surfing. I don't think I've ever touched a surfboard, much less ridden one. The book conjures up a mythical time and place in American culture -- Southern California and Hawaii in the 1960s -- and it's a classic example of the fact that a good writer can make any story interesting.
Have you heard about the woman in Maiduguri, Nigeria, who has an Instagram account on which she posts pictures of local residents? It's sort of like Humans of New York, Nigeria-style. She's trying to bring some positive recognition to a corner of Africa that has been ravaged by violence and Boko Haram. It's pretty remarkable, and I love the fact that a woman is behind it -- I'm impressed by her courage.
(Photo: An unused doorway at a house in Pimlico, on Tuesday. Well, unused for ingress and egress, anyway -- the geraniums apparently enjoy it.)