tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51236316955726262562024-03-19T09:30:21.044+00:00Shadows & Light"Every picture has its shadows, and it has some source of light." - Joni MitchellSteve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.comBlogger5890125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-30689870991392577562024-03-19T06:12:00.001+00:002024-03-19T06:12:15.134+00:00Daffodils<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizW2v_KpSwkRVeY8-p-_nyajOCt6QpfrsUGlUzSpPzSKgt8ri6EAGS6vPQQ0VtN-BaIMmxRWKz1jd1xL84SkaOUgsLImbC3r0EqYgoKO257tl1v_ZBYzvu7kaopSrxu5skBsPgz8UJdme-qbqV3x9XdpqBeboVa7r09NS0797GtKkP9hdLT_ZDaHPztJiB/s1024/I54A4386.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizW2v_KpSwkRVeY8-p-_nyajOCt6QpfrsUGlUzSpPzSKgt8ri6EAGS6vPQQ0VtN-BaIMmxRWKz1jd1xL84SkaOUgsLImbC3r0EqYgoKO257tl1v_ZBYzvu7kaopSrxu5skBsPgz8UJdme-qbqV3x9XdpqBeboVa7r09NS0797GtKkP9hdLT_ZDaHPztJiB/w426-h640/I54A4386.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />It's time for my annual photo of <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2017/03/a-sculpture-and-my-beating-heart.html">Leon's "Ideas" sculpture</a> surrounded by daffodils. I actually took this picture about three weeks ago, so the display may be somewhat faded by now. The yellow daffodils in our own garden are already mostly past their prime.<br /><br />Dave set off this morning on his annual music tour with his band students. They're going to Berlin this year, and he had to leave home at 4:45 a.m. this morning. His departure was made more interesting when the car service he'd ordered ahead of time somehow failed to send a vehicle -- "we're working hard to find you a car," they texted -- so he bailed and called an Uber, which was here in about two minutes.<br /><br />Dave's not the only one traveling this week. Nearly all of our high school teachers and students are off-campus on spring trips. So things will be quiet around the library, thank goodness. (Middle schoolers are still around so I'm not entirely without things to do.)<br /><br />Anyway, I'm looking forward to some quiet time. I have some leftovers in the fridge and I'll queue up some old movies on the DVD player.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpo6gQ9utB9nzeY-Xc8_9vATa4XbsDbytdOPh71KZ_JdrPoEKW0O6lEpC4YVKs8-eJMSmpIH5mzOW8wrU_PQ-pTcX2pOWCz7CvmJH74wwKBn4Oys75_wXXMurexMrWITKhlEiAzlU8KoFS6RZIkfcmCv_fsvHi3HC2OZr2UWuEJJBz_OJO76Gts0AkF5Zy/s1024/IMG_0146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpo6gQ9utB9nzeY-Xc8_9vATa4XbsDbytdOPh71KZ_JdrPoEKW0O6lEpC4YVKs8-eJMSmpIH5mzOW8wrU_PQ-pTcX2pOWCz7CvmJH74wwKBn4Oys75_wXXMurexMrWITKhlEiAzlU8KoFS6RZIkfcmCv_fsvHi3HC2OZr2UWuEJJBz_OJO76Gts0AkF5Zy/w640-h480/IMG_0146.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Those of you who asked about the removal of the books in Trinity College library's "Long Room" (see yesterday's post) may be interested in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/28/world/europe/dublin-trinity-library-restoration.html?smid=url-share">this article</a>, which explains the rationale behind the restoration project. Apparently the books <i>will</i> be returned at some point.Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-13926732196264412872024-03-18T06:29:00.003+00:002024-03-18T10:28:18.293+00:00More Dublin and Home Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcEoZ2ZLnwhpf014E0icNNTZP_VpGqdM79t6Qgu-o2df9aMjD311Jlk6EynVhRsUlfW7ARJMflIh7EKSnsYQLaGdTnb8jNdhtwUBeOGraaHpNi6cn7-851T1YkjGtp29uGlj2vX3H99KJQhxRXPLv_rA2cJbbebrubl8e_F0E93Sr0YgJVblmfJJ-WngV/s1024/IMG_0299.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcEoZ2ZLnwhpf014E0icNNTZP_VpGqdM79t6Qgu-o2df9aMjD311Jlk6EynVhRsUlfW7ARJMflIh7EKSnsYQLaGdTnb8jNdhtwUBeOGraaHpNi6cn7-851T1YkjGtp29uGlj2vX3H99KJQhxRXPLv_rA2cJbbebrubl8e_F0E93Sr0YgJVblmfJJ-WngV/w640-h480/IMG_0299.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Well, I'm back home again, after probably the fastest vacation I've ever taken in my life! I made the most of yesterday, though, getting up early and walking back into town from my suburban <strike>jail cell</strike> hotel room. I spent an hour or so walking around the Temple Bar area, which is Dublin's center of nightlife. It was quieter in the morning, but the St. Patrick's Day decorations were up and there were more than a few costumed revelers about.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyd9bBB90VyipWH4uZyz8vqtDjIuNW4vKWJIgyskjgURnsRBHrXPGkKaSEGMOepmFpctDbyyGAOr_j5NpN2bVlgafUe2pJglqM1Wh-CNwN5UG73uFIZ7T9z1jUinmsprjY5QN5-NkVjbNhwi6fh4LLnGzHBVO9TNfojQjXKtW4YX7ius1-S8_ZMIBHpMjy/s1024/IMG_0283.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyd9bBB90VyipWH4uZyz8vqtDjIuNW4vKWJIgyskjgURnsRBHrXPGkKaSEGMOepmFpctDbyyGAOr_j5NpN2bVlgafUe2pJglqM1Wh-CNwN5UG73uFIZ7T9z1jUinmsprjY5QN5-NkVjbNhwi6fh4LLnGzHBVO9TNfojQjXKtW4YX7ius1-S8_ZMIBHpMjy/w640-h480/IMG_0283.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Many of the main streets were already blocked off for the big parade and there were barricades everywhere. These parade marchers were fortifying themselves at the neighborhood coffee shop.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2id3nHVxYkDfRGIlio9AwMIKq2AVLVbCDYBv8bo71f2ebpRCGNqiCj1Gpp7AeZrD6Pllz_TDQNnLNUdyIrZ0Yh7gbHhBDrYUhfYEkUnYmUmouHX-wISa42DGl2QgCAeuqWXPHoTSa8FmnVTTts1RxLGrXswDWk-sBAfNYb8NmXNk3HcLB4WB2WrGXXqr9/s1024/IMG_0300.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2id3nHVxYkDfRGIlio9AwMIKq2AVLVbCDYBv8bo71f2ebpRCGNqiCj1Gpp7AeZrD6Pllz_TDQNnLNUdyIrZ0Yh7gbHhBDrYUhfYEkUnYmUmouHX-wISa42DGl2QgCAeuqWXPHoTSa8FmnVTTts1RxLGrXswDWk-sBAfNYb8NmXNk3HcLB4WB2WrGXXqr9/w640-h480/IMG_0300.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I walked to the River Liffey, which flows through the center of Dublin, so I could check out the views.<br /><br />Then I met up with my stepsister Jennifer, her husband Tony and their friends Steve (yes, two Steves on this trip) and Karen. We had breakfast and went to Trinity College to see the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Kells">Book of Kells</a>, a 1,200-year-old illuminated manuscript of the Gospels of the New Testament that's held in the library.<br /><br />Funny moment: We walked all the way to the college and were approaching the door when Jennifer said to Karen, "You have the tickets, right?" And Karen said, "No! YOU were going to get the tickets!" So we actually had no tickets at all -- but fortunately, even on St. Patrick's Day, we didn't have any problem buying them on the spot.<br /><br />The "Book of Kells Experience," as it's known, was really more than it needed to be -- I'd have been happy just seeing the book and leaving it at that. But there's a museum with huge displays and multimedia stuff going on. Gotta keep the digital kiddies entertained, I guess.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVyPtsB2zyCr-eJfK1rZ0ssaK-y4i4uyL0P9Uh2Gj1B9fB_09LD4zbgs7I5H8u_lgAtOxoX3mLDSlTcmmONCOcnHHOQV4_czX7Ny4rpSxBiCVY9D-VtnjPZsKHmQsxyIXjRidPCt2TF0FOkdummpDfTW6QgYnFPh64k3G1uRckdXukUsli3CFcDR9afOW/s1024/IMG_0324.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVyPtsB2zyCr-eJfK1rZ0ssaK-y4i4uyL0P9Uh2Gj1B9fB_09LD4zbgs7I5H8u_lgAtOxoX3mLDSlTcmmONCOcnHHOQV4_czX7Ny4rpSxBiCVY9D-VtnjPZsKHmQsxyIXjRidPCt2TF0FOkdummpDfTW6QgYnFPh64k3G1uRckdXukUsli3CFcDR9afOW/w640-h480/IMG_0324.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />We also walked through <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Library_of_Trinity_College_Dublin">the library's</a> legendary "Long Room," which used to be lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves of antique and historic books. Most of the books have been removed now for conservation, but the building was still beautiful. The busts along the sides are renowned Irish and British writers, <a href="https://trinitynews.ie/2023/02/first-sculptures-of-women-installed-in-old-library-long-room/">until recently all male</a>.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRDrHph7ciqWW_vkWsof0IIA8e39BBsM75v6Wvzm-4-4g71x6j_HL3k-iW87_6xlPrWhfa79g5iYOpzZ-Vnd7rAaH5Xxj1_e1IOC15wQWF3d_j72piMOhVhwXSgB-4U827qAEmHE4dLu8bgFr8D-2PtiCZgz68NYbPATbcsbYqpFx0AwZzOTYrpHNRjuC/s1024/IMG_0325.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="1024" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRDrHph7ciqWW_vkWsof0IIA8e39BBsM75v6Wvzm-4-4g71x6j_HL3k-iW87_6xlPrWhfa79g5iYOpzZ-Vnd7rAaH5Xxj1_e1IOC15wQWF3d_j72piMOhVhwXSgB-4U827qAEmHE4dLu8bgFr8D-2PtiCZgz68NYbPATbcsbYqpFx0AwZzOTYrpHNRjuC/w640-h324/IMG_0325.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The college campus was quite impressive, too.<br /><br />Afterwards we found a bar for a final pint of Guinness (in my case). I was worried about getting out of town, given the massive crowds and street closures for the parade, but the hotel reserved me a cab and by golly, that cab was waiting at the appointed place at the appointed time. I was amazed!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwbhxRIasAtVJkCo0XlOHm7NMkf6LpB49Suond-ln-h1AJTt5tbEp5zc13DbTObGwW29NRvBj_TYeYy2LFDE8fcVH9NZmnWAj7U1kL5Uk95JK8NfM5HaC89LGmyvebsQD2Eh_fbi9clZK_cIAXA3VPDs3QMFpqVrsi2SHgNsrXFWYe1SQh3-UJWp5Y71o/s1024/IMG_0332.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwbhxRIasAtVJkCo0XlOHm7NMkf6LpB49Suond-ln-h1AJTt5tbEp5zc13DbTObGwW29NRvBj_TYeYy2LFDE8fcVH9NZmnWAj7U1kL5Uk95JK8NfM5HaC89LGmyvebsQD2Eh_fbi9clZK_cIAXA3VPDs3QMFpqVrsi2SHgNsrXFWYe1SQh3-UJWp5Y71o/w640-h480/IMG_0332.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I saw these two as I made my way to my car, doing their best to spread a Christian message amid all the drunken revelry and commercialism. I told them I liked their signs: "Simple and direct!"<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQ1SFFmwwZRXzOX94tHsWDZ1PL_uyRFZUVOVVwFAel5VjdYsjCUkDwsv6pUiQbKRhmUyedUvaAjKAJOvPovxde0uzSzK3ihP0VcMG9lAB_yVZX_ta_aQej4-CacLcqnkeGNctg3CCSL9K19dCrkrCtsrkQErQToo0PtJx8oHvc8Kb_EAnVzRuaFMmdgQb/s1024/IMG_0339.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQ1SFFmwwZRXzOX94tHsWDZ1PL_uyRFZUVOVVwFAel5VjdYsjCUkDwsv6pUiQbKRhmUyedUvaAjKAJOvPovxde0uzSzK3ihP0VcMG9lAB_yVZX_ta_aQej4-CacLcqnkeGNctg3CCSL9K19dCrkrCtsrkQErQToo0PtJx8oHvc8Kb_EAnVzRuaFMmdgQb/w640-h480/IMG_0339.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I had a couple of hours at the airport before my 5:50 p.m. flight took off -- but that was fine, as it gave me a chance to edit my photos and relax a bit. I had a good sunset view of Dublin as the plane took off and turned to the east. Those are the Wicklow Mountains in the distance, south of the city.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkjc34vOG6kzPypBYp-Md0zBaxyXEA1ZkWmVYxKiOqGonq52hWXWARwG_FXpg5jUaFllrLVlR4epqjy0PXRajEKUIvunS-s8kTZzLsY7penpmNI9v3-6oomDyKyXKDn7TDVAY2djKoTXNrvXrm7ODkTl4C6bTzb4EWS5EZ3rV5V2sI1bfsaxaKRPWi6nV/s1024/IMG_0341.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkjc34vOG6kzPypBYp-Md0zBaxyXEA1ZkWmVYxKiOqGonq52hWXWARwG_FXpg5jUaFllrLVlR4epqjy0PXRajEKUIvunS-s8kTZzLsY7penpmNI9v3-6oomDyKyXKDn7TDVAY2djKoTXNrvXrm7ODkTl4C6bTzb4EWS5EZ3rV5V2sI1bfsaxaKRPWi6nV/w640-h480/IMG_0341.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />And I had a good view of London as we flew in about 50 minutes later. That's Battersea Park at lower right, with the curve of the Thames and the brightly lit Albert Bridge. The dark rectangle in the center is Hyde Park, and the dark patches above that are Regents Park and Hampstead Heath. I do love a window seat!<br /><br />It was great to sleep in my own bed last night, and Olga seems happy to have me home. Dave said she was a nervous wreck the whole time I was gone! Such a dramatic dog.Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-30823207834734334232024-03-17T07:00:00.000+00:002024-03-17T07:00:55.464+00:00Dublin!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglvOOUxAjhA7UXmGQwUbAnAhZ92CWGaL6lvg9WP3Td6WRzx3rXHxMT6uQ5Ymd0xMpE1_aeHDdSvrA-en7DkOmUPzNoNKRKH3A1xI5ecu3o01GPaXxCqANR6JinwfaFvlHpzcjbXcEtKnCh3X9kITS6eZP3hG8TL5jTjJeKgiwq07jfyeNULKCORzPUj2QA/s1024/IMG_0210.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglvOOUxAjhA7UXmGQwUbAnAhZ92CWGaL6lvg9WP3Td6WRzx3rXHxMT6uQ5Ymd0xMpE1_aeHDdSvrA-en7DkOmUPzNoNKRKH3A1xI5ecu3o01GPaXxCqANR6JinwfaFvlHpzcjbXcEtKnCh3X9kITS6eZP3hG8TL5jTjJeKgiwq07jfyeNULKCORzPUj2QA/w640-h480/IMG_0210.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I feel like it's been a week since I last blogged, I've packed so much into the past 24 hours! As you can see, I made it to Dublin, where one of the first sights I came across is "Europe's No. 1 Discount Superstore," above. Quite a grandiose claim! And yet, it does seem they sell a little bit of everything. I wonder what "fancy goods" are?<br /><br />I was up and out of the house just after 5 a.m. yesterday. Olga got very excited, thinking we were all going somewhere, but she didn't seem too disappointed when she realized Dave was staying behind with her. I caught the tube out to the airport for a flight that was pretty much up and then down again. I think it took about an hour.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtw7eZKaHtlRj-2p2Ju1nBA_nhFFmTZfOgaq38i1CD4YdR-v35tdKA7DgYm-NevaL2CuEL4CR5O9yIkq_k6wMDlwu_O4XcfqELUnpZ1gEFa5ecE_JEAJB72_AcDk1xBnpUx6yGyzLchJu7v_hOiRgR1Wtegsr59tJQ-cbsaKt1F0x3kxvv5EYdcNgmmu1L/s1024/IMG_0195.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtw7eZKaHtlRj-2p2Ju1nBA_nhFFmTZfOgaq38i1CD4YdR-v35tdKA7DgYm-NevaL2CuEL4CR5O9yIkq_k6wMDlwu_O4XcfqELUnpZ1gEFa5ecE_JEAJB72_AcDk1xBnpUx6yGyzLchJu7v_hOiRgR1Wtegsr59tJQ-cbsaKt1F0x3kxvv5EYdcNgmmu1L/w640-h480/IMG_0195.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>I met up with my stepsister and her husband at the airport -- their flight from the states arrived about the same time as mine did. They're traveling with two friends, and the five of us all rode into town together and dropped our bags at their hotel. We then took an exploratory walk around St. Stephen's Square (Dublin's biggest downtown park) and the Grafton Street shopping area.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Z3Q4Hq6i9kmGa8DRI96-_I5Ri_nimWRZvr3zaQZ2SFtHdy1QaZ4Kyt0iHZlUj57U43-yrSH8bqJHzl2xwRtWnSjMeJF00aoJdq8nqs1L_0TYYtbil0uQJcCMfg_VvRDJDV9JZhjrpnsDoetCBuuTeeVl5PIBE_iXPk9UFooFNtUj-urc4J9ujOv7moyO/s1024/IMG_0205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Z3Q4Hq6i9kmGa8DRI96-_I5Ri_nimWRZvr3zaQZ2SFtHdy1QaZ4Kyt0iHZlUj57U43-yrSH8bqJHzl2xwRtWnSjMeJF00aoJdq8nqs1L_0TYYtbil0uQJcCMfg_VvRDJDV9JZhjrpnsDoetCBuuTeeVl5PIBE_iXPk9UFooFNtUj-urc4J9ujOv7moyO/w640-h480/IMG_0205.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I checked out a handy little Dublin guidebook from the library before I left London, and an earlier reader had left a sticky note inside the front cover mentioning a "BEAUTIFUL Victorian pub" called the Stag's Head. "Good food?" the note said, uncertainly. So we rolled the dice and headed for the Stag's Head for lunch. The place was pretty packed but we ate and the food was indeed yummy. Thanks for the tip, mystery traveler!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbxr2NJsFwzRqlicLMnL4W-BAldNeOZJ8TouKQ_Kjrt146OazjtTed1iIR5xSxWCOqcEs1TA0665-GAklpLbWfn0WPSTP6ZL6D6MxSgWNzIXOSRetlxhMhp89a-wXg8TmnMzVs7rhfNhLttzIuDrT4USRhyphenhyphenxBlcXNNXBUzjl76ZpLb37es-Ea7IRvlhef/s1024/IMG_0225.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbxr2NJsFwzRqlicLMnL4W-BAldNeOZJ8TouKQ_Kjrt146OazjtTed1iIR5xSxWCOqcEs1TA0665-GAklpLbWfn0WPSTP6ZL6D6MxSgWNzIXOSRetlxhMhp89a-wXg8TmnMzVs7rhfNhLttzIuDrT4USRhyphenhyphenxBlcXNNXBUzjl76ZpLb37es-Ea7IRvlhef/w480-h640/IMG_0225.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />We then headed to the Guinness Storehouse, a gigantic brewery-turned-museum full of Guinness history and memorabilia.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSukXdMEHhPsoskwHPTxZ8zXp77EKs3snDL_VGGWi2kU1FUSCpwIXZ58MRjJzRU_Q_gopImkukRk4yoQ8WDiHaCfJJmrDGNKD3GJYCTSvZw2Krgs6fpl9f9McA7rfpPLqFv47_T2jwbhMRu0sxhFBexUf22VrBBwX6VvUcD3c5al_BF1OY4JJ7JjseVa9/s1024/IMG_0228.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSukXdMEHhPsoskwHPTxZ8zXp77EKs3snDL_VGGWi2kU1FUSCpwIXZ58MRjJzRU_Q_gopImkukRk4yoQ8WDiHaCfJJmrDGNKD3GJYCTSvZw2Krgs6fpl9f9McA7rfpPLqFv47_T2jwbhMRu0sxhFBexUf22VrBBwX6VvUcD3c5al_BF1OY4JJ7JjseVa9/w640-h480/IMG_0228.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Here was the best part -- at the end of the tour you get a pint of Guinness WITH YOUR PICTURE IN THE FOAM ON TOP! How they do this I have no idea. My shoulders look funny because I was bending down and slightly hunched forward when they took the photo.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WPb5K7yfbuf_-NbyJ5M3jOf893J9aWJeM8KhPymEHqK5Fs_ZGCpU2J5_750E58Cajg_Q5Iza9zxU18TeKhKhNfIHxXY_QnyI3lI7fSOm6yA-x1y3zjgcysx5X7MJzuy9bnlAjV76upvD3IqDMVRlwKK7EqdcrL-tC09lXBzLGklgRmcd3-lEcoiFWn54/s1024/IMG_0250.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WPb5K7yfbuf_-NbyJ5M3jOf893J9aWJeM8KhPymEHqK5Fs_ZGCpU2J5_750E58Cajg_Q5Iza9zxU18TeKhKhNfIHxXY_QnyI3lI7fSOm6yA-x1y3zjgcysx5X7MJzuy9bnlAjV76upvD3IqDMVRlwKK7EqdcrL-tC09lXBzLGklgRmcd3-lEcoiFWn54/w480-h640/IMG_0250.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />The others decided to go back to their rooms for a nap, and I still had to go find my hotel, which is outside the city center in a suburb called Rathgar (which sounds like the name of a cruel interplanetary dictator). I decided to walk the two miles to the hotel, which led me through interesting business and residential districts with lots of fun street art like this beautiful portrait of two magpies.<br /><br />My hotel is the very definition of no-frills. My room is clean but there's not so much as a picture on the wall, and it's on the ground floor with windows looking out at concrete. Fortunately I am here only to sleep.<br /><br />I had intended to take a bus back into town for dinner, but I discovered that in Dublin you need not only cash but EXACT CHANGE to pay the fare. Buses do not take a debit card, and if you want to buy a bus pass you have to do it at the bus station in town. I started walking back figuring I'd pass an ATM and get some money, but there was no working ATM along my route that would give me any less than €50 and I don't want THAT much. So I just stayed on foot.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7J4-D5zttlaC1Y9N9LMoofh63_HEprbGg2gsqzVvEYKkTuctz_HaK_H50v5fj34N-ioRV9mVgceJ4aGgsJR-fiWN33D5fvFh17toySvYRNx5NnjUwF0dxDCvS1J5MXDu5HXbViWRpH54sZ4WDBDcWo2xLsWtpkaw0jX0cRhEkXHeCszlOCgJkqeQtdZXq/s1024/IMG_0262.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="884" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7J4-D5zttlaC1Y9N9LMoofh63_HEprbGg2gsqzVvEYKkTuctz_HaK_H50v5fj34N-ioRV9mVgceJ4aGgsJR-fiWN33D5fvFh17toySvYRNx5NnjUwF0dxDCvS1J5MXDu5HXbViWRpH54sZ4WDBDcWo2xLsWtpkaw0jX0cRhEkXHeCszlOCgJkqeQtdZXq/w552-h640/IMG_0262.jpg" width="552" /></a></div><br />We had drinks at the bar in my stepsister's hotel (my hotel, needless to say, has no bar unless you count the Nescafe and kettle in my room). We were served by an adorable Argentinian waiter named Franco. Then we had dinner at a pub called the Landmark, where an over-amplified singer delivered ear-splitting renditions of Tom Petty songs. We got out of there quickly.<br /><br />And then I walked back to my hotel. I bet I walked ten miles yesterday -- 28,315 steps, according to my iPhone.<br /><br />Today there's a parade and some other craziness downtown, and I hope I can get out of here and to the airport without too much trouble. I should be back in West Hampstead around 9 p.m. Whew!Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-64248384265394961682024-03-16T06:27:00.002+00:002024-03-16T07:13:24.236+00:00Google Slush<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZYyXc2VohEBpXWia9PS6wSvxHFpFsjyDoqOTaIye1HUQUGdIHNs1AAWiZDpxHB1C9SrYoAwj0mAGLHjFNcEIWjV0MQd55R62-WzFUJL-yUIuPsMwqWF2BKGG_kapowMqWlvdAw9YMtBvGjowDdtCsdWrb5mq7ePU_V959Slw6Z-Arko3zresKftJBNYX/s1024/I54A4344.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZYyXc2VohEBpXWia9PS6wSvxHFpFsjyDoqOTaIye1HUQUGdIHNs1AAWiZDpxHB1C9SrYoAwj0mAGLHjFNcEIWjV0MQd55R62-WzFUJL-yUIuPsMwqWF2BKGG_kapowMqWlvdAw9YMtBvGjowDdtCsdWrb5mq7ePU_V959Slw6Z-Arko3zresKftJBNYX/w426-h640/I54A4344.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />I'm on my way to the airport right about now, so I've set this post to publish automatically. I'll be blogging on Sunday (one day only!) from Dublin.<br /><br />I heard an interesting discussion on the "<a href="https://www.qanonanonymous.com/">QAnon Anonymous</a>" podcast the other day. The podcast, despite its name, is very wide-ranging and goes beyond merely talking about QAnon. The hosts discuss related conspiracies, the peculiarities of right-wing politics, historic incidents of misinformation, manipulation of information and many other topics. I <i>love</i> this podcast. It's a little like sitting around with friends in a college dorm room and bantering about the world's craziness over too many beers.<br /><br />Anyway, the hosts were talking about Google in a recent episode titled, "Why Google Sucks Now." They started from the proposition that Google has deteriorated, returning less useful search results than it used to, largely because money has corrupted the original Google algorithm. What was once designed to return high-quality search results now returns results that are paid for or otherwise gamed by professional "optimizers," feeding us a lot of junk.<br /><br />I hope Google doesn't cancel my blog for saying this, but I must admit I find Google results pretty dismal sometimes -- there's nothing I hate more than asking a question and being shown a bunch of Quora threads where other people have asked similar questions but NO ONE seems to have an answer. Or at least not an answer that works. What's the point of that? It doesn't help me to know that other people are merely wondering the same thing I am.<br /><br />(There are supposedly tricks to get around this. Some people suggest searching a topic and including the word "Reddit," which will then take you to Reddit on the theory that users there will have better filtered out an answer. I have no idea whether or not this works. Why would Reddit be more reliable than Quora?)<br /><br />The contention is that Google could have stopped this devolution, but opted not to because it was more profitable than efficient search. Ultimately the podcast discussion led to a rather dark place, a future data quagmire, where it's nearly impossible amid a flood of AI-generated word slush to gather any useful information.<br /><br />As a blogger, I find that pretty bleak. I'd like to think my little blog could still be found someday by someone looking for something I've posted. (What that could be I'm not sure, since I mostly write about my dog and overdue library books.) I have searched for my photos via Google with mixed results. A lot of stuff comes up before me, mostly Alamy images that have to be purchased.<br /><br />Anyway, that's what I'm thinking about as I write this post and set it to publish while I'm <i>en route</i> to Ireland!<br /><i><br />(Photo: Architecture near the Battersea Power Station, in late February.)</i>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-51297185273966734882024-03-15T06:23:00.002+00:002024-03-15T07:37:55.086+00:00Plans and Paranoia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDPrAxLk054bksi4kHvOpgZdhq65knCFjWGBBRmKgqJxT7wfpjjIxLGQuNxKdtkzhY7q1hArtcQjhMN79fyLjLJ18tKn0AvSvtiHMEcllfGGhsKD0SCK92WMp0_6X71rgfAlQyCQjWMsVwFkwM2vuneF0sF-2r5NmA_lVxvGFzSUxraADjwowdnthKk4O/s1024/IMG_0154.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDPrAxLk054bksi4kHvOpgZdhq65knCFjWGBBRmKgqJxT7wfpjjIxLGQuNxKdtkzhY7q1hArtcQjhMN79fyLjLJ18tKn0AvSvtiHMEcllfGGhsKD0SCK92WMp0_6X71rgfAlQyCQjWMsVwFkwM2vuneF0sF-2r5NmA_lVxvGFzSUxraADjwowdnthKk4O/w480-h640/IMG_0154.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Have I mentioned that I'm going to Ireland? I think somehow I never wrote about these plans, but yes -- I'm flying to Dublin tomorrow morning to meet up with my stepsister and her husband, who are visiting from the states. I'll only be there one night. I realize Sunday is St. Patrick's Day and apparently there's also a big rugby game happening this weekend, so it might be madness. We shall see.<br /><br />I've had a busy week here. I went to the dentist on Wednesday for a checkup, and fortunately I don't need any immediate work, though I do have a filling that the dentist is concerned about and will probably want to replace in the near future. I'm not thrilled about the idea, being of the "leave well enough alone" school of thinking, but I might let her do it in the fall.<br /><br />The tooth I had the root canal on several years ago still gives me a twinge now and then -- evidently the dentist who did the root canal (not the one I go to now) didn't get all of the root -- but my current dentist said it seems stable and she sees no need to do anything more. I can live with it. Having spent all that money on a gold crown I'd rather not have to redo it all, or worse, remove the tooth entirely.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEhx0BEWAIm0BrY1doMRb8qM1QsZQbRKWZCL3wW9M_3uYLpnT_YoT7hkmLb6dvPHvMDaozhgrR1SH_qOsqsW6bdSFjRdmJ9MVSdiZ7Cn5jn5Cdvtp2GKUPFb6F4DargYzCFdlrYrXM6e-aEU2HhyCLToZueRTsKodCkDPvg94gCnUDfY4ZtFqZoMqD3mC3/s1024/IMG_0160.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="1024" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEhx0BEWAIm0BrY1doMRb8qM1QsZQbRKWZCL3wW9M_3uYLpnT_YoT7hkmLb6dvPHvMDaozhgrR1SH_qOsqsW6bdSFjRdmJ9MVSdiZ7Cn5jn5Cdvtp2GKUPFb6F4DargYzCFdlrYrXM6e-aEU2HhyCLToZueRTsKodCkDPvg94gCnUDfY4ZtFqZoMqD3mC3/w640-h430/IMG_0160.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />In other big news, I think I finished our U.S. taxes last night. I finally got all the supporting documentation uploaded and sent the return to a "tax advisor" for review. I had to improvise on a few things. For example, as I understand it, I'm supposed to report interest from our British bank -- but of course that bank doesn't issue a 1099-INT form, as American banks do. I reported the interest as if I had such a form, even though I do not. Hopefully that will suffice.<br /><br />Dave and I watched <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2024/mar/09/accused-the-hampstead-paedophile-hoax-an-eye-popping-cautionary-tale">a wacky documentary</a> from Channel 4 the other night about ten-year-old allegations that some parents in Hampstead, the community right next to us, were running a Satanic pedophile ring. It was the craziest story. What began as a parental custody battle soon went ballistic and became an Internet phenomenon that attracted vigilante justice-seekers, one of whom flew over from America (of course) to "protect the children." Several things astonished me:<br /><br />1. The fact that the initial allegations, which seemed outlandish from the beginning, triggered such an intense response from online activists;<br />2. The fact that Dave and I were completely unaware of any of this at the time, even though it was happening practically in our neighborhood;<div>3. The fact that someone in America would read something on the Internet and FLY ACROSS THE OCEAN to personally stalk supposed "pedophiles," rather than leaving the matter to the police to sort out. (The police did investigate but found nothing amiss and eventually the kids involved retracted their story.)<br /><br />It's like that guy who stormed the pizza place in suburban Maryland because he thought Hillary Clinton was harvesting babies in the basement. What is <i>wrong</i> with people?<br /><br />My personal theory is that there's a lot of pot-smoking going on out there. I'm not a "reefer madness" believer by any means, but smoking pot <i>can</i> make a person a little paranoid. I think these people sit in their basements, puffing away and reading salacious online chat boards, and soon enough they've gone down a rabbit hole of crazy.<br /><br />On that note, I'm off to work.<br /><br /><i>(Photos: Graffiti by Alex -- sometimes spelled Alekz -- in Swiss Cottage and West Hampstead.)</i></div>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-88286665111691689222024-03-14T06:38:00.000+00:002024-03-14T06:38:11.026+00:00Butternuts and Pirate Monkeys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnz7c5iC8JupRE92DDl3872w8fCnx4NMZW6XfbO16MGw9ORETpSpaPEHbiOYlMnz_LtpVKWQgbOS4FQXvG-5vkH6apQ3oX0pu3cR62hbtZdNgayMSCg8dO7Ui1L30U9O51v4WIobV21yy-v7HFzMqVDeOZAXL8AYVmPreC35rMH6QkYXE5-Q9hyphenhyphenqzpzeb3/s1024/IMG_0100.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnz7c5iC8JupRE92DDl3872w8fCnx4NMZW6XfbO16MGw9ORETpSpaPEHbiOYlMnz_LtpVKWQgbOS4FQXvG-5vkH6apQ3oX0pu3cR62hbtZdNgayMSCg8dO7Ui1L30U9O51v4WIobV21yy-v7HFzMqVDeOZAXL8AYVmPreC35rMH6QkYXE5-Q9hyphenhyphenqzpzeb3/w640-h480/IMG_0100.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I've photographed these windows before, in context as <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2023/10/ghosts-ghouls-and-textile-care.html">part of the shopfront</a>. But when I passed them a couple of weeks ago I thought I'd do a close-up. They need a good cleaning, and some of them seem like they may have a second layer of yellowed plastic behind them, and that duct-tape repair job at upper right has got to go -- but still, don't you love them?<br /><br />And with that, let's take a look at some other random photos I've stacked up over the past several weeks.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J3ve7PRn_DTXliXyLEDRPHwxbtOZ2D6-BvLY4iiPuek-yfq-DS72-CryuPwo-jSBubUVkrZ1mc-GzaKFBlqeVcto3rPmaVXdV-hiAhbsmw7OPH21focoByZZmBndKUhyMKePBuckmW5U8yFIhAEWqt8cfKVTHVWAnF8HX8du4ImIT7NjyUx90lP1hoVp/s1024/IMG_9992.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J3ve7PRn_DTXliXyLEDRPHwxbtOZ2D6-BvLY4iiPuek-yfq-DS72-CryuPwo-jSBubUVkrZ1mc-GzaKFBlqeVcto3rPmaVXdV-hiAhbsmw7OPH21focoByZZmBndKUhyMKePBuckmW5U8yFIhAEWqt8cfKVTHVWAnF8HX8du4ImIT7NjyUx90lP1hoVp/w480-h640/IMG_9992.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />My neighbor had this sitting out with her trash. I had no idea what a "Butternut Box" was, and the instruction to "open and sniff" seemed a little strange. (No thanks!) Turns out it's <a href="https://butternutbox.com/">a brand of designer dog food</a>. Her dog is obviously eating better -- or at least more expensively -- than Olga.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiljqgPVwfilyWkZT25xMraeHKXsx9BFM2oDYsz4EVAbwpbuJoBGkvDaz8ZpP8TQB79aMBO2hS4YF09AcH6SpU7AnfdfUz7XVQ0RIIOzvwdmz-zxYeHwbuidYQeoTypyDSkKFK5kq6r3sjU03CMEVPrqwl57y2OZvRX0iZVxyQ_xOrrBzm045vu7peCRx2K/s1024/IMG_0027.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiljqgPVwfilyWkZT25xMraeHKXsx9BFM2oDYsz4EVAbwpbuJoBGkvDaz8ZpP8TQB79aMBO2hS4YF09AcH6SpU7AnfdfUz7XVQ0RIIOzvwdmz-zxYeHwbuidYQeoTypyDSkKFK5kq6r3sjU03CMEVPrqwl57y2OZvRX0iZVxyQ_xOrrBzm045vu7peCRx2K/w640-h480/IMG_0027.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />When I went to see the <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2024/02/more-winter-lights.html">Winter Lights at Battersea Power Station</a> a couple of weeks ago, I was amused to find this pigeon strutting around inside Starbucks, looking for crumbs. That's a pretty enterprising bird. Not only was it inside the power station, but it was also inside an enclosed shop where it knew there would be food. There's a reason pigeons dominate the urban landscape.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPV1gZcoMr3EUk087nBbIiqdKZGFSK49_dnClzhy7QMbwTo3EkyqhFGIrTuU4OIZCvF4hgALlOKbnZIPBzG6XUpAgH1nY9HTPmaxyDE62Ui2hieFBzp21Ud6PLTwBhfjERbXJAAwM3XI1rnsjgCpCDl13uTte51UDn4e8K9q_Wg_9iglwz3giLddjlW-JK/s1024/IMG_0031.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPV1gZcoMr3EUk087nBbIiqdKZGFSK49_dnClzhy7QMbwTo3EkyqhFGIrTuU4OIZCvF4hgALlOKbnZIPBzG6XUpAgH1nY9HTPmaxyDE62Ui2hieFBzp21Ud6PLTwBhfjERbXJAAwM3XI1rnsjgCpCDl13uTte51UDn4e8K9q_Wg_9iglwz3giLddjlW-JK/w480-h640/IMG_0031.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />A student returned this book to the library with color-coded sticky notes inside the front cover. I suppose they were using those colors to gauge their reactions as they read? Doesn't seem like there would be many "happy/yay! 😊" moments in this book -- at least not until the end.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1wUQOE-b-mlA4cVr5ImxHlYAsPkNbGHrtrsXoEAokozCL7otWAco0_-fF8ZcYfI96_K84mWVAGmEYPmZmMxhyWeHcYc9YAsxnKXFZqS6Fy_7gUaHjpWy94V5e6SMZ89HyF2lYdhjQHCdMTYG67-_DDYL0jsddVReQmFFans8C_5_1QfKrkokQarrnydZ/s1024/IMG_0034.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1wUQOE-b-mlA4cVr5ImxHlYAsPkNbGHrtrsXoEAokozCL7otWAco0_-fF8ZcYfI96_K84mWVAGmEYPmZmMxhyWeHcYc9YAsxnKXFZqS6Fy_7gUaHjpWy94V5e6SMZ89HyF2lYdhjQHCdMTYG67-_DDYL0jsddVReQmFFans8C_5_1QfKrkokQarrnydZ/w640-h480/IMG_0034.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Found this eye-catching sticker on a street sign. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PFC_CSKA_Sofia">CSKA Sofia</a> is a football club in Bulgaria, not to be confused with <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FC_CSKA_1948_Sofia">CSKA 1948 Sofia</a>. (I didn't know any of this until I looked it up.)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjql364NserUX06U3wMS3zOVyvnTm0EVDWXlYzM8gq70-ol1ynB5tdyxEfp4jjwn5B_zPz3Z3gZRj2Bk8lhWiP9c96RdmDFVUye_9HPUnVe_r_jEIuxk7yfkVyTE0jKBh1dxBXiqmfDmnjZjIHWkyOlMtU6nCBTWcrw-k6xOh-eL8f5y9Y26KWb93yWWD0A/s1024/IMG_0109.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjql364NserUX06U3wMS3zOVyvnTm0EVDWXlYzM8gq70-ol1ynB5tdyxEfp4jjwn5B_zPz3Z3gZRj2Bk8lhWiP9c96RdmDFVUye_9HPUnVe_r_jEIuxk7yfkVyTE0jKBh1dxBXiqmfDmnjZjIHWkyOlMtU6nCBTWcrw-k6xOh-eL8f5y9Y26KWb93yWWD0A/w480-h640/IMG_0109.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Another fun sticker -- Pirate Monkey!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNIL2eVQC7wyKg2SqlSXuML4EB3Z6CoWkyGKDqU6hCSNNflFOCuCZ0yiMKBf7593WCDOV8ZPwkWN8Pd14xTsJyW7Plk8RGQqwNZ3JuE_xXTjq_DT9pXhbVfd1c_jZQ_RU1PM3NnMz2bGet_IAnnyTvWngPJMAl6D8UVc9GVfytJhkemVJn_XyoSj9OfMu/s1024/IMG_0125.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNIL2eVQC7wyKg2SqlSXuML4EB3Z6CoWkyGKDqU6hCSNNflFOCuCZ0yiMKBf7593WCDOV8ZPwkWN8Pd14xTsJyW7Plk8RGQqwNZ3JuE_xXTjq_DT9pXhbVfd1c_jZQ_RU1PM3NnMz2bGet_IAnnyTvWngPJMAl6D8UVc9GVfytJhkemVJn_XyoSj9OfMu/w640-h480/IMG_0125.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Here's Olga with some big, colorful graffiti we found last weekend. This wall used to be regularly buffed (painted over) so I'm not sure how long the graffiti will last. Seems like maintenance has diminished lately.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEire2vTu4B0BP_0dOehpJKjRF9ABuCrCP04vmkxZKBUEkl-DR0ft33YQpizqUeNbwb-pWJUQPEegiKfe6Toef6mTARErjDdCvdVduXVhhb4kcAEWSSvwjaQrSLOW6-KyQZP3xRFZmWpcsg4XECC6wTnlJ9_5VxUYrwYtfTnyqWiOMICo8UQoxygu3ZEkc55/s1024/IMG_0148.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEire2vTu4B0BP_0dOehpJKjRF9ABuCrCP04vmkxZKBUEkl-DR0ft33YQpizqUeNbwb-pWJUQPEegiKfe6Toef6mTARErjDdCvdVduXVhhb4kcAEWSSvwjaQrSLOW6-KyQZP3xRFZmWpcsg4XECC6wTnlJ9_5VxUYrwYtfTnyqWiOMICo8UQoxygu3ZEkc55/w640-h480/IMG_0148.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Finally, as I walked home from work a few nights ago, this gigantic tractor-trailer was trying to back into a parking bay behind and beneath the new apartment buildings on West End Lane. It was blocking the roadway all the way across, with a couple of guys directing, and this was during evening rush hour. I was surprised more people weren't complaining or honking but they seemed to take it in their stride. I guess driving in the big city presents plenty of obstacles like this. I'm glad no one was in an ambulance trying to get by.Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-48692727397157821972024-03-13T07:17:00.005+00:002024-03-13T07:26:18.729+00:00Siri Makes Another Video<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiIl4dB6p8OoozcUSbe4Ebw4MuG11q7hCkPG_PVgmZYvgs7IKfj9cbw8JviLwWnM9mA6CxRKNHbfixtT3UfLCXcTSXijMhcmKR_sNaPL1Zg7DS9C1eiZMRelG5VI-Znz3doulOpTn9bHilSV2ny2qVrMVIPg6vrhiFj-jhKZ20hpDLbcDAmCML4-NjORw/s1024/IMG_0106.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiIl4dB6p8OoozcUSbe4Ebw4MuG11q7hCkPG_PVgmZYvgs7IKfj9cbw8JviLwWnM9mA6CxRKNHbfixtT3UfLCXcTSXijMhcmKR_sNaPL1Zg7DS9C1eiZMRelG5VI-Znz3doulOpTn9bHilSV2ny2qVrMVIPg6vrhiFj-jhKZ20hpDLbcDAmCML4-NjORw/w640-h480/IMG_0106.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />We're having some dreary weather here, though perhaps not quite as dreary as in the video posted by the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/12/world/europe/monolith-wales-uk.html">guy from Wales who found the monolith</a>. We had light rain pretty much all morning yesterday and the plants are loving it. The temperatures have climbed a bit, too, with no overnights below 40º F forecast in the foreseeable future. I'm starting to think about moving the avocado back outside, but I'll probably wait until April at least.<br /><br />It's really hard for me to type this post because the dog is on my lap -- I'm on the couch, holding the computer with my left arm and typing with my right hand. Cumbersome! Also I'm once again noticing that many of the keys on my keyboard have completely worn away. Instead of letters I'm seeing a keyboard full of round O's glowing like full moons, which is hard to deal with when I'm not typing in a normal position and working from QWERTY muscle memory. I probably need to think about a new computer.<br /><br />OK, I've shifted the dog.<br /><br />As you can see, I have nothing to talk about today, really. I did read <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/09/arts/television/free-to-be-you-and-me-50th-anniversary.html">a fun and poignant column</a> yesterday about the 50th anniversary of "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PS3nOcLbHI">Free to Be, You and Me</a>," the TV special produced by Marlo Thomas back in the early '70s that is seen as a cultural touchstone for people my age. I don't remember watching it when it first came out in 1974, but I remember listening to the record and singing the theme song in our elementary school music class. The message that we were free to become whatever we wanted, regardless of the gender roles society tried to force on us, felt liberating to me even then. Girls could have careers, men could cry, boys could play with dolls, girls should learn to fend for themselves.<br /><br />Of course, being a gay kid, I'm sure I felt that message more than some other viewers. Those songs told me it was OK to be different -- and even though I was seven years old at the time and wasn't entirely sure <i>how</i> I was different, I knew I was. "Like many works from the early ’70s," wrote columnist James Poniewozik, the show "can seem simultaneously a dated product of a specific time and an artifact from an alternative future that never quite arrived."<br /><br />I'll leave you with this:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="385" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-UZvIWjSUS0?si=n6Prs3IkCJ34op0g" title="YouTube video player" width="630"></iframe></div><br />My iPhone made another video of Olga images. It does this now and then, all by its lonesome -- the last one <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2022/11/siri-makes-video.html">was in November 2022</a>. Unfortunately, Siri tends to be a bit haphazard about cropping. I once again had to manually replace a couple of the videos so you could actually see the dog -- she'd been cropped out entirely -- and as you can see, she's at the margin of several of the photos. But it's an enjoyable little snippet nonetheless, so if you want an Olga fix, feel free to watch.<br /><i><br />(Top photo: Reflections spotted on my walk home from work.)</i>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-86717884020671507692024-03-12T06:33:00.001+00:002024-03-12T06:35:24.898+00:00White Cat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8JOJ8ep5lb5Hc2LttnCHEUtL3ZOqLv_KmN5u48bhW4bsQvMwOEd4wXhKYhjy5cuJc4Xbnc5XVd3sQf1_EyzVsmxfoipTeko8fBvt0pJ0wOXdE9Z3M9km29LqUPw7WLASg1sToCd10jdM_4xdEeuj1sW9yDjuIuWel5eBdla4diwiEWrqoJEKqu_iK2AH/s1024/IMG_0135.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8JOJ8ep5lb5Hc2LttnCHEUtL3ZOqLv_KmN5u48bhW4bsQvMwOEd4wXhKYhjy5cuJc4Xbnc5XVd3sQf1_EyzVsmxfoipTeko8fBvt0pJ0wOXdE9Z3M9km29LqUPw7WLASg1sToCd10jdM_4xdEeuj1sW9yDjuIuWel5eBdla4diwiEWrqoJEKqu_iK2AH/w640-h480/IMG_0135.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />As I was walking to work yesterday morning, I saw this perfectly poised white cat sitting on a windowsill. It seemed <i>so</i> perfect I momentarily wondered if it was a garden ornament.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5POlcbzOVvKSNKJ7qHYYe6ivrUGswUlGhrMCT8bq1NWVB3SSNAeLqUsFQ4GDDDoKG1POfaSqCWHjZPnIklIwo588w8o8lZEPjBGt0PshwBQBzKF9sU4kznAUQVNUFMHRTMz1NYdcX7m_q49ZHvChiSBu9gqc0i0E8X262MdpqXWf3YEuZHgg6OO6LonIj/s1024/IMG_0137.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5POlcbzOVvKSNKJ7qHYYe6ivrUGswUlGhrMCT8bq1NWVB3SSNAeLqUsFQ4GDDDoKG1POfaSqCWHjZPnIklIwo588w8o8lZEPjBGt0PshwBQBzKF9sU4kznAUQVNUFMHRTMz1NYdcX7m_q49ZHvChiSBu9gqc0i0E8X262MdpqXWf3YEuZHgg6OO6LonIj/w640-h480/IMG_0137.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />But then it moved! It sure blends in well with that building, doesn't it? I wonder if whoever lives there has an all-white living room, like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daisy_Buchanan">Daisy Buchanan</a>?<br /><br />I had a strange realization yesterday. I was helping a boy with his library account, and when I pulled it up on the computer I happened to notice his date of birth -- a little nugget of data that normally doesn't mean much to me. It was July 22, 2011 -- just a few days after Dave and I first moved to London. I was amazed to see that we've been here so long that kids born <i>after</i> we arrived are now in sixth grade!<br /><br />I looked back at my blog to see what Dave and I were doing around that time. That student's mother must have been in labor about when we <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2011/07/housing-update.html">moved out of the hotel</a> and into a school-owned house, where we lived for several days while waiting for our apartment in Notting Hill to become available. We <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2011/07/bibendum.html">went to Bibendum</a> for the first time. And he was probably born when I made that <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2011/07/moment.html">Zen video of shadows</a> on the wall.<br /><br />It boggles the mind. Where does the time go?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7F_41Tk-2XR3e2N333G25l7_LZBjnoIMh4e2wy8qeBKlF2TJEVjE80d3qaa2GfN9u3VVesDyQxv1PlLpvp_7MqaBu1J3alLPnVdtUuKAlWnHFy1l9tVDPPL5EDTT6sJaT17YbL-e7sptz4DuHjpTnJk8r2XGpejwpujK6fjlq_8xCDzeNrvAl8q5Gy5Q/s1024/IMG_0130.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="946" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7F_41Tk-2XR3e2N333G25l7_LZBjnoIMh4e2wy8qeBKlF2TJEVjE80d3qaa2GfN9u3VVesDyQxv1PlLpvp_7MqaBu1J3alLPnVdtUuKAlWnHFy1l9tVDPPL5EDTT6sJaT17YbL-e7sptz4DuHjpTnJk8r2XGpejwpujK6fjlq_8xCDzeNrvAl8q5Gy5Q/w592-h640/IMG_0130.jpg" width="592" /></a></div><br />When Dave and I were at "Dune: Part Two" on Sunday, I went to get a coffee before the movie. I was walking through the shopping center where the theater is located when I looked down and saw a beheaded daffodil lying on the floor. Someone must have bought a bunch at the grocery store, and then one of them lost its head. I picked it up and put it in my jacket pocket, and when we got home I popped it into some water. It opened yesterday.<br /><br />This is the first daffodil we've had indoors all season. I used to have to bring in lots of them, because Olga would break them off romping through the garden. These days she doesn't romp as much, so they stay outside, attached to their plants!Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-38634430881308751612024-03-11T06:54:00.002+00:002024-03-11T06:58:02.481+00:00Tofu With Mrs. Robinson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6msbLgUX_RoLA3rhBT8O8h4Ti6hUhwFZKxXmvB4pjPZBsnqhXJWG97lBAp3GAJBS-NX9B0Fqnc0Mjgeg_XLtpCPCfhuC2Dmis8Pa79REwpoHaey2w5FHnGesNaiOQG1gqYMkj_xxwr154yG9BJ6-aBzU1MyJQIrDM8mBDsqlnNhv9ymhgr7KCAHisG64/s1024/I54A4499.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6msbLgUX_RoLA3rhBT8O8h4Ti6hUhwFZKxXmvB4pjPZBsnqhXJWG97lBAp3GAJBS-NX9B0Fqnc0Mjgeg_XLtpCPCfhuC2Dmis8Pa79REwpoHaey2w5FHnGesNaiOQG1gqYMkj_xxwr154yG9BJ6-aBzU1MyJQIrDM8mBDsqlnNhv9ymhgr7KCAHisG64/w640-h426/I54A4499.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />A relatively quiet day yesterday. It was a rainy morning so Olga didn't want to go anywhere. I got our bedsheets to the laundromat and did some minor stuff around the house. I also finished the YA book I was reading, "Plague Land," a zombie apocalypse thriller that's probably too gory to recommend to any kids younger than high school.<br /><br />Then Dave and I went to see "Dune: Part Two" at the cinema. It was <i>very</i> good. I didn't remember a lot of the details of the plot from the first movie, but I really didn't need to. The second one picks right up and keeps going, but I knew enough generalities that it made sense -- and the scenery and costumes and special effects were all so spellbinding that it was impossible not to be entertained. Definitely a big-screen experience. Dave tried to get us tickets to the IMAX theatre but it was sold out, so we saw it at our normal cinema, and that was good enough.<br /><br />I told Dave afterwards that "Dune" is a good example of a story that needed to wait for a certain level of special-effects technology in order to be effectively told on screen.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxMlEcqdvdZnCxLTqkmfUxlU2YgaIbWWLgY7V0H2UpbGxZGJ9UZ12Q4tNeBBXUXrbHf_P5Kp6mskgmmvHWX6WRKOKeOx9mBwVveeH9g9ncQbqwjshBNFLBGqjmY4ERPqggtDntpOa7JVCiFqrOHA52vbL9-uPsK3PWg0gO6wKBP0p9TgTNdjZxvd3gwmm/s1024/IMG_0127.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxMlEcqdvdZnCxLTqkmfUxlU2YgaIbWWLgY7V0H2UpbGxZGJ9UZ12Q4tNeBBXUXrbHf_P5Kp6mskgmmvHWX6WRKOKeOx9mBwVveeH9g9ncQbqwjshBNFLBGqjmY4ERPqggtDntpOa7JVCiFqrOHA52vbL9-uPsK3PWg0gO6wKBP0p9TgTNdjZxvd3gwmm/w640-h480/IMG_0127.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />We also had lunch at a Chinese place on Finchley Road that Dave likes. It has been completely remodeled from the last time we were there, and it's very colorful inside, with a whole arbor's worth of artificial yellow-orange wisteria hanging from the ceiling. (Is yellow wisteria a thing?) They were playing an interesting mix of '60s and '70s folk-acoustic music over the sound system. I dined on my tofu and broccoli with brown sauce to the harmonies of Simon & Garfunkel singing "Mrs. Robinson." There was some John Denver in there too.<br /><br />Multiculturalism! It's kind of amusing.<br /><br />Oh, good news! My <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2024/03/black-spot.html">black spot</a> has vanished. I guess it really was just a healing injury. So that's one doctor's appointment I won't need to keep. The hospital still hasn't contacted me to schedule it, so when they do I'll just tell them to forget the whole thing.<br /><br /><i>(Top photo: A colorful mural near Euston Road, taken last weekend.)</i>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-3859332958266644432024-03-10T07:48:00.004+00:002024-03-10T07:51:42.957+00:00Gardening, Taxes and Doomsday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzr9P0TK4T-pVlstXkGvt5s58vvXMX7_supw211mcOI0ACP5IobAslwDRDDkqCW8annRXDOcSVCBTiHpX6VALwPwUiv0ksj9uoLn8p6SYTZL-1kXG8O68b32j2kUb0yTN66YpentTTiZ3Tj8gHmv65AiGtwxq3NBlDDhH_Z0kipCIEyvffLx_MGs1wzyjj/s1024/IMG_0114.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzr9P0TK4T-pVlstXkGvt5s58vvXMX7_supw211mcOI0ACP5IobAslwDRDDkqCW8annRXDOcSVCBTiHpX6VALwPwUiv0ksj9uoLn8p6SYTZL-1kXG8O68b32j2kUb0yTN66YpentTTiZ3Tj8gHmv65AiGtwxq3NBlDDhH_Z0kipCIEyvffLx_MGs1wzyjj/w640-h480/IMG_0114.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Look! There she is, back in her summertime spot, sunbathing on her bed in the garden. It gladdened my heart when the weather was warm and sunny enough yesterday to make this appealing to Olga. The temperature was in the high 50's and I loved seeing her warming her old bones in the sun.<br /><br />This hasn't been a particularly cold winter, and we got virtually no snow -- maybe a couple of flurries. But the coming of spring still feels like a release, a time to ease and bask and open the windows and breathe. I left the back door standing open yesterday as I worked in the garden, and it was good to get some fresh air in the house.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqm-fa4yQUCK8qcyjnm6G4WRt5M8y5GUAhoxSaVwXGV-uUMyY9-dIATPiUNTF7hJQKwfu23hKDY7_iKLoyZJQqpOjEpdVC6fMSf8QhCb0vpl3Xx-WhzcsbW2m9QtUjuF9Fi1byDGUrstm0zBMYYT9hID2ZtJLHXXcDQdA6Rb8AIIkXHxQ_Dnc6zgIHqwsw/s1024/IMG_0116.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqm-fa4yQUCK8qcyjnm6G4WRt5M8y5GUAhoxSaVwXGV-uUMyY9-dIATPiUNTF7hJQKwfu23hKDY7_iKLoyZJQqpOjEpdVC6fMSf8QhCb0vpl3Xx-WhzcsbW2m9QtUjuF9Fi1byDGUrstm0zBMYYT9hID2ZtJLHXXcDQdA6Rb8AIIkXHxQ_Dnc6zgIHqwsw/w640-h480/IMG_0116.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I repotted one of those foxgloves just to the left of Olga. Neither of them are doing too well -- we always have a few that get scraggly over winter and seem to struggle into spring. I'm not sure they'll survive but I'm trying. (We have many others that look fine.)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxEMvrvdyoiRmII5s5QP3B2ZWPlLzqewgNWA8h9cOCMhXDLkbFjQYs-Bi0tTcV9BovnPy87rwelWQ1Suw2s_5NSFeAAgRNB59artWAVsv_CdTBEgOYCUZlG7K2bzDxGV0ZBHFhTcdWpLNVryzEoC8-IawHTc2GpuGRQT6pj3ACSIc2goZyB2UQYjjiIgL/s1024/IMG_0111.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxEMvrvdyoiRmII5s5QP3B2ZWPlLzqewgNWA8h9cOCMhXDLkbFjQYs-Bi0tTcV9BovnPy87rwelWQ1Suw2s_5NSFeAAgRNB59artWAVsv_CdTBEgOYCUZlG7K2bzDxGV0ZBHFhTcdWpLNVryzEoC8-IawHTc2GpuGRQT6pj3ACSIc2goZyB2UQYjjiIgL/w480-h640/IMG_0111.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Here's another project. The squirrels have been digging into my Asiatic lilies, uprooting the bulbs and causing a mess. I got out this old hanging basket, removed the liner and used it to cover them like a cage. (It's tied on beneath the pot.) I'm not sure the squirrels couldn't get through it if they <i>really</i> wanted to, but I'm hoping it will be enough of a deterrent.<br /><br />Inside, I vacuumed and did laundry, and I started on our taxes. Right away, though, I realized we are missing a crucial document -- Dave's W-2! It was a bit like starting to make beef Wellington and realizing I had no beef. I could have sworn he'd sent it to me, but he couldn't find it in his e-mail and I couldn't find it either so I guess he never did. He has to download it from work and he doesn't have the necessary passwords here, so that will have to wait. I did get much of my income entered, at least, including some that came from my mom's pre-tax investments like IRAs and such. I'm dealing with 1099-R forms, which I've never dealt with before. It's a whole new world, and not a particularly fun one.<br /><br />I'm using H&R Block online tax prep and they want me to pay someone to review the taxes after I'm done because of their complexity. I've never done that before but I might just go for it this year. It costs about $125. I'm on the fence.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghSrpdrfdrYsQjhIoEkFLV3g6ILRPj9zh_M0e_x7yR6N5kvKTCCkILHT_RFlep4tMZB3qqeLbWf5WhyrX1eQbdEjOukHROxbUiPxGRj0rh-9YqipWkXSJZ3ZwU-jMAJuivSAEZFU3GkheCSp1gAmZzF5YfdJ3KRG9r463D8r6OLrkHwzAZ8S6-ZjzaJjfb/s1024/IMG_0122.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghSrpdrfdrYsQjhIoEkFLV3g6ILRPj9zh_M0e_x7yR6N5kvKTCCkILHT_RFlep4tMZB3qqeLbWf5WhyrX1eQbdEjOukHROxbUiPxGRj0rh-9YqipWkXSJZ3ZwU-jMAJuivSAEZFU3GkheCSp1gAmZzF5YfdJ3KRG9r463D8r6OLrkHwzAZ8S6-ZjzaJjfb/w480-h640/IMG_0122.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />After wrestling with Uncle Sam for while, I took Olga for a walk. We passed the new apartment buildings going up near the railroad tracks, where this big photo mural tries to entice prospective buyers. I was amused because someone drew a huge yellow mushroom cloud on the horizon beyond the windows. Dark humor! And yet, it does seem to say something about the way humans are treating the risks to our survival, whether related to conflict or climate -- we're burying our heads in the sand and shopping for well-appointed apartments. The proverbial fiddling while Rome burns.<br />Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-55765687741701041442024-03-09T07:08:00.000+00:002024-03-09T07:08:20.124+00:00A Smiley Thread<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWVEzPwkUakPW486U4_mA9ViiIDbxgT6OPB1W8tmxt-qwJMW5K4LKC8zKOrsI4VGz_xB1FI0z2Q65YYPC9mT7yh80M7HzetDFXYR7K8MONKqgAWf4pBF1WeKMIonIr8F2c5gA-UXaUVqSOdB7B4I1wL3sCTHy2siZiWjipo_l1Pk7C_TvqIaFgMngy_qZ/s1024/I54A4531.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWVEzPwkUakPW486U4_mA9ViiIDbxgT6OPB1W8tmxt-qwJMW5K4LKC8zKOrsI4VGz_xB1FI0z2Q65YYPC9mT7yh80M7HzetDFXYR7K8MONKqgAWf4pBF1WeKMIonIr8F2c5gA-UXaUVqSOdB7B4I1wL3sCTHy2siZiWjipo_l1Pk7C_TvqIaFgMngy_qZ/w426-h640/I54A4531.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />It's the time of year when people begin tying little red-and-white threads to blooming trees as a way of celebrating spring. This is apparently a tradition that originated in Eastern Europe, where the strings and associated beads or charms are known as Mărțișor in Romania or Martenitsa in Bulgaria. Sometimes they feature little dolls, as <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2022/03/a-walk-and-then-another.html">I've photographed</a> in the past. I saw this one on my walk to work yesterday, with a little smiley face bead.<br /><br />Update on the wayward street sign: Yesterday I was notified by e-mail that my report has been "escalated to the Highways Department." You may recall that I reported it as a "missing road sign," because "abandoned road sign" was not an option. Well, it has now been changed to "damaged illuminated road sign post," which also does not at all describe the situation but maybe it will make the Highways Department pay attention. I am amused by the tortured bureaucracy of all this. I predict that sign will go nowhere.<br /><br />I'm glad to see that the consensus on Joe Biden's State of the Union speech seems to be that it was a success. I read <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/mar/07/donald-trump-voter-liberals">a column in The Guardian</a> yesterday that I thought described quite well the reasons why Donald Trump still appeals to many voters in the United States, to the complete bafflement of the rest of us. Basically, those voters feel despised by the people in power (often loosely and inaccurately characterized as "liberals" or "the deep state") and thus feel allied with Trump, who is despised by the same amorphous group. I think that's all true, though the column doesn't mention the perplexing involvement of evangelical Christians who fervently support Trump. I suppose they are a subset of those who feel despised or ignored, and Trump has certainly delivered the goods on at least one of their goals -- curtailing the availability of abortion.<br /><br />So basically, all those voters support Trump because he makes the rest of us mad. <i>That's</i> a great foundation upon which to build a government.<br /><br />My goal for the day: To do our income taxes. This is the first time I've done them since inheriting part of my mom's estate, and I am not looking forward to it. I have a few questions but I'm hoping it all becomes clear as I work my way through the process with the H&R Block software. We'll see.<p></p>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-87834925850323566392024-03-08T06:38:00.000+00:002024-03-08T06:38:21.377+00:00Pink Clouds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodzmnjxF0q_F0hoE-O4LHDw02AEhsgzf8EAierOQvJG9keLEJ4QJT5-0Pmmw3FOHo7zpLGlVKaRbjbTx6VQH60fiUzKBF988IMacPmX0sE6Hgq5Vfq8-qpy5Q6nRyM5W_8ka6bWnXL0SPAMFuBmnmX0HCkFfOyheTgQ47bOsq6EchqV0qaN031fwm17DX/s1024/I54A4521.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodzmnjxF0q_F0hoE-O4LHDw02AEhsgzf8EAierOQvJG9keLEJ4QJT5-0Pmmw3FOHo7zpLGlVKaRbjbTx6VQH60fiUzKBF988IMacPmX0sE6Hgq5Vfq8-qpy5Q6nRyM5W_8ka6bWnXL0SPAMFuBmnmX0HCkFfOyheTgQ47bOsq6EchqV0qaN031fwm17DX/w640-h426/I54A4521.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Here's one positive side-effect of walking to the doctor's office on Wednesday: I passed this corner with this amazing blooming tree. This whole street is lined with these clouds of pale pink. It's quite a sight!<br /><br />After posting about that wayward street sign yesterday I got motivated to do something about it. During some down time at work I Googled the local roads authority (per Rachel's suggestion) and they had an online page to report street problems. They didn't have an "abandoned sign" category, but they had a "missing sign" one, so I chose that, and explained the problem in the narrative. It even let me upload a picture. I got the whole thing filled out, hit submit, and WHAM! I got an error page that not only told me my report didn't go through, but that I had been BANNED FROM THE WEB SITE!<br /><br />I tried it twice with the same result. So I waited until I got home and did it from here, and it worked. I guess something about our firewalls at school freaked out the submission software.<br /><br />Anyway, we'll see what happens.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhli6Lp1Ti3xZNextOxkYf2UzuABNtu0FY3FH5H8GSvc4E3gcabrEv8Wz4-KxPNOAe_EJMZSTA9RLU-DiinAZ4JwJ9E0ENcI2pDHGmCNIImmjyu1Mx0hpUhp58FsKCDu2BqLvhQZuSqqVs0bgWQ5w8VQDcclJeB2w6BP5MIn2-66GOipbzQW7HJDamRgqJj/s1024/IMG_9999.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhli6Lp1Ti3xZNextOxkYf2UzuABNtu0FY3FH5H8GSvc4E3gcabrEv8Wz4-KxPNOAe_EJMZSTA9RLU-DiinAZ4JwJ9E0ENcI2pDHGmCNIImmjyu1Mx0hpUhp58FsKCDu2BqLvhQZuSqqVs0bgWQ5w8VQDcclJeB2w6BP5MIn2-66GOipbzQW7HJDamRgqJj/w480-h640/IMG_9999.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Our ornamental cabbages are looking pretty sad these days. I believe this is what's know as "bolting" -- basically, they're setting flowers. I moved the pot from our front porch to the back, where at least no one can see them. Time to buy some new annuals, but <i>where</i>? Our Homebase (the British equivalent of Home Depot or Lowe's) closed in December, and that's where I always bought all our plants! More research is required...Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-87974531307519909002024-03-07T06:23:00.002+00:002024-03-07T09:27:14.923+00:00It's a Sign<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzVKGbCGNtLd3YD55iam5o0et7tmNYyccikYV3Pg3DFP-9bHw2Tvesf61Rcz0AaRWd7iEZqaLOTvvhbBqsZQCnB31CODMDP1fLhmywhP4Xb98a425ymJ0VcTWIlMFOjTRa1Svvqx2QyYYxf4U7DhzlemkEXI-IOJr8HyUFRCUodLQEOVZ9nxv5d7IlXMP/s1024/IMG_0083.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzVKGbCGNtLd3YD55iam5o0et7tmNYyccikYV3Pg3DFP-9bHw2Tvesf61Rcz0AaRWd7iEZqaLOTvvhbBqsZQCnB31CODMDP1fLhmywhP4Xb98a425ymJ0VcTWIlMFOjTRa1Svvqx2QyYYxf4U7DhzlemkEXI-IOJr8HyUFRCUodLQEOVZ9nxv5d7IlXMP/w640-h480/IMG_0083.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Here's my latest civic conundrum. Some months ago, we had some roadwork done on our street, and this sign was erected in the middle of the pavement to redirect the traffic. Then the project ended, the equipment was packed up and everyone left -- and the sign got left behind! It's now sitting on this corner and has been for weeks and weeks. I tried reporting it as rubbish, because I have an app for that and I know how to do it, but Veolia (the company with the contract to collect rubbish in this area) wouldn't take it, unsurprisingly. So now who do I call?<br /><br />And once again, I wonder, don't any of my neighbors see this? Doesn't it bother them too, or is it just me?<br /><br />This is where Twitter (or X, if I must call it that) would come in handy. I could just throw this picture out there and tag the local council and maybe it would get some attention. But I'm not a Twitterer and I don't think I'm going to start now.<br /><br />In other news, I went to the doctor yesterday evening to have him look at my <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2024/03/black-spot.html">black spot</a>. It hasn't grown any, but I don't think it's any smaller, either. He agreed it doesn't look dangerous, but he also said he couldn't be 100 percent sure, so he referred me to the dermatology department at the hospital. They're supposed to contact me for an appointment within two weeks.<br /><br />I wouldn't be too concerned -- and I guess I'm not, really -- but I <i>did</i> spend an awful lot of time in the sun as a child. The doctor asked me if I'd had a lot of sunburns.<br /><br />"What's 'a lot'?" I said. I grew up in Florida and I certainly got sunburned now and then. But I only remember painful burns a handful of times, and I wasn't a very outdoorsy kid in general. I never got sunburned badly enough to blister my skin. I do remember my parents putting suntan lotion on me, so I had some protection, but I'm not sure it was really sunblock in the modern sense.<br /><br />So who knows. It's probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-59794262372905684122024-03-06T06:52:00.001+00:002024-03-06T06:52:37.727+00:00Back to the Grind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ozcZexC69EXw0vbyEVAtX2UI4adWTJZk3m1R2CbjhggIIlu5fTNHGgpdzChaOAg00Y7neRm0vJynb06F7S05paBHLmgZGzSHNqZ-V6s9CjEh3n9fh8FBGrmZ3_D9rvfuXNFr3PKPkr0H0lxgMOldXUlnaxhDUyhk04ip0Nr2GWYZVBNbr48LD2xqgeYD/s1024/I54A4500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ozcZexC69EXw0vbyEVAtX2UI4adWTJZk3m1R2CbjhggIIlu5fTNHGgpdzChaOAg00Y7neRm0vJynb06F7S05paBHLmgZGzSHNqZ-V6s9CjEh3n9fh8FBGrmZ3_D9rvfuXNFr3PKPkr0H0lxgMOldXUlnaxhDUyhk04ip0Nr2GWYZVBNbr48LD2xqgeYD/w426-h640/I54A4500.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />Here is our <i>Leucojum</i>, also known as a snowflake or spring snowdrop. It's similar to the winter-blooming snowdrops, but the flowers come later and they have those little green tips on the petals.<br /><br />Thanks for all your feedback about viewing my blog on a phone. Clearly the problem lay with my device, so I cleared the cache and cookies (which I don't think I'd <i>ever</i> done) and now it works fine.<br /><br />Yesterday was a fantastic day. I never have an entire day at home, alone, undisturbed. I can't tell you the last time that happened. I was able to plow through a lot of reading -- I finished "The Long Goodbye," I read the latest "Heartstopper" graphic novel, and I read several magazines. <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/02/12/a-teens-fatal-plunge-into-the-london-underworld">This article in The New Yorker</a> was a standout, about a teenager whose mysterious death in London in 2019 opened the door to a world of nefarious characters and international intrigue. I couldn't put it down.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFx-85BR13JBjhOtW-1DzlYQujKzZwAZKVum_jsthHryDtzDITGnhH-nevO2rKBQQ1keQSpRUnf8Jqb6942lyoky5YSR-0GH6Kfb1yPYifxw5GvuCqndNz1Lk9Ll_a-CAC46PmOEuW-UbfgKjVg-9R3YBy7PzBpuM01MKKm-gaHZqZc7_nyytGiTP6GVq3/s1024/IMG_0077.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFx-85BR13JBjhOtW-1DzlYQujKzZwAZKVum_jsthHryDtzDITGnhH-nevO2rKBQQ1keQSpRUnf8Jqb6942lyoky5YSR-0GH6Kfb1yPYifxw5GvuCqndNz1Lk9Ll_a-CAC46PmOEuW-UbfgKjVg-9R3YBy7PzBpuM01MKKm-gaHZqZc7_nyytGiTP6GVq3/w480-h640/IMG_0077.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />There was also a lot of this. The dog didn't leave my side all day. She was slammed up against me on the couch, enjoying the blankets and the cuddles.<br /><br />Today I feel better, though I'm still not what I'd call well. But unfortunately I have to go back to work. My co-workers always say to take all the time I need, but I'm privy to the Google Chat where they're obviously scrambling to cover everything, so I can tell they're struggling. I'm mostly well and I never had a fever, as best I could tell.<br /><br />Oh, and I took a Covid test: negative. So at least it's not that!Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-3341794001973113752024-03-05T06:46:00.000+00:002024-03-05T06:46:32.844+00:00Sharing a Cold With Philip Marlowe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7UBWT6feLgvwxvmb5jgBGCCaEqkdLsBfAiWrzjpKqXnJPLj3VLud82cTOK1JVkAMT8zdD4rVLA8AKbKOIU2-U9vG61G5lkG0F8FkXakayAjWTbKav-Ma5cCWdUMs28dh8QrZehDKEAZa1ZAQ91bz85fsddoN2tcA3zO9eD0KmVhsUx9qse32aOC6iQjV/s1024/I54A4407.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7UBWT6feLgvwxvmb5jgBGCCaEqkdLsBfAiWrzjpKqXnJPLj3VLud82cTOK1JVkAMT8zdD4rVLA8AKbKOIU2-U9vG61G5lkG0F8FkXakayAjWTbKav-Ma5cCWdUMs28dh8QrZehDKEAZa1ZAQ91bz85fsddoN2tcA3zO9eD0KmVhsUx9qse32aOC6iQjV/w640-h426/I54A4407.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I seem to have picked up a cold somewhere between Milton Keynes and London. I am laid up in bed today and I've called in sick to work.<br /><br />I felt a little weird yesterday morning, and increasingly so as the day wore on. My nose was running like crazy and I got woozy with fatigue. Weirdly, as much as my nose is running, it's also stuffed up and I feel like I have a head full of cement. I don't think I have a fever, but I am SO looking forward to resting.<br /><br />I'm going to finish this Raymond Chandler book, which I'm still enjoying. I love his quippy writing style. It is very <i>noir</i> -- there's a layer of menace over everything, even the sunny days and the palm trees. There's a lot of drinking. I don't know how all of the characters aren't in liver failure.<br /><br />Chandler described one unsightly-looking man as having a "face like a collapsed lung." I love that!<br /><br />Philip Marlowe, his detective, is fond of laying out championship chess games and playing them through. Chandler called one, which famously ended in a draw, "as elaborate a waste of human intelligence as you could find anywhere outside an advertising agency."<br /><br />There's also, of course, plenty of mid-century misogyny, typified by passages like this:<br /><p></p><p></p><blockquote><i>"A girl in a white sharkskin suit and a luscious figure was climbing the ladder to the high board. I watched the band of white that showed between the tan of her thighs and the suit. I watched it carnally. Then she was out of sight, cut off by the deep overhang of the roof. A moment later I saw her flash down in a one and a half. Spray came high enough to catch the sun and make rainbows that were almost as pretty as the girl. Then she came up the ladder and unstrapped her white helmet and shook her bleach job loose. She wobbled her bottom over to a small white table and sat down beside a lumberjack in white drill pants and dark glasses and a tan so evenly dark he couldn't have been anything but the hired man around the pool. He reached over and patted her thigh. She opened a mouth like a firebucket and laughed. That terminated my interest in her. I couldn't hear the laugh but the hole in her face when she unzippered her teeth was all I needed."</i></blockquote>It won't win any social justice awards, but it is entertaining writing, and pretty honest, I think. Many of us have had a similar experience -- seen someone attractive across a room or at a distance, only to think moments later, for whatever reason: "Oh. Maybe not."<br /><br />I've noticed that my blog won't fully load onto my phone. Does anybody read my blog on a phone, and if so, can you see the whole thing? I only get partial pages. I can't tell if the culprit is my device or Blogger.<br /><i><br />(Photo: Finchley Road, last week.)</i>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-77412383242005662024-03-04T06:35:00.001+00:002024-03-04T06:40:12.822+00:00Bad Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqfvbAigzuMzvDT-_lhWhwYloraB5nSx5-2DTgPbNSgxTVTN1ynbr8ZeGwXxkd2VzFNIBgY73IjcJ5qJtU-A7h0qRqGj01BnPqx2lS0V9sUHLMUouSam5kPI0szWz0SA_EaWURX_pgItrxi4SXyiDPjWOioltO9VkwVHTafzHH_ImexhD3wHxdUUsytH0/s1024/IMG_0064.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqfvbAigzuMzvDT-_lhWhwYloraB5nSx5-2DTgPbNSgxTVTN1ynbr8ZeGwXxkd2VzFNIBgY73IjcJ5qJtU-A7h0qRqGj01BnPqx2lS0V9sUHLMUouSam5kPI0szWz0SA_EaWURX_pgItrxi4SXyiDPjWOioltO9VkwVHTafzHH_ImexhD3wHxdUUsytH0/w640-h480/IMG_0064.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Yesterday felt like spring. The sun was bright, the sky was blue (mostly) and things were blooming. I got out in the garden in the morning and pruned away the last of 2023 -- cut down the dead teasels, deadheaded and pruned the hydrangeas, cut down the ornamental grasses, and picked up a bazillion sticks left behind by the tree-trimmers a couple of weeks ago.<br /><br />Dave never finished pruning the roses, but I think we're just going to let them go this year and see what happens. About half of them still have last year's growth. If it means they're just leggy, well, that's no great disaster. It's an experiment.<br /><br />In the afternoon, Olga and I went to the cemetery.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tGw9YtsXvWZXvlHmPFQyNHXV2mIe99Z0ZFE20Hfw4bGKtf8CmiJip073uljZzJbfTHcllVzsggsBGtLXfkQJ5CMcZOippsYRbDpGSwsEOYy8sdJMBTHV9wBxXZcyrXGnSzKuAdtZrZutwVco6KHjmsm0i06x35DxbLpblccDEkXJs4viED2C-RGTU_rU/s1024/IMG_0050.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tGw9YtsXvWZXvlHmPFQyNHXV2mIe99Z0ZFE20Hfw4bGKtf8CmiJip073uljZzJbfTHcllVzsggsBGtLXfkQJ5CMcZOippsYRbDpGSwsEOYy8sdJMBTHV9wBxXZcyrXGnSzKuAdtZrZutwVco6KHjmsm0i06x35DxbLpblccDEkXJs4viED2C-RGTU_rU/w640-h480/IMG_0050.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Of course she had to bulldoze her way through the daffodils at Fortune Green...<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2FZ_VYNcjFQshQCjIs3vY0uskbdsBkF5mQFjehrKfy-66lu_NYkt9BzMRhagPgHsC2nxFzo5AWUA86GFVPWEIILGYutktXvBVnCa4Q2v783G-8uWF4qryJQ2KPT7geKLRWUPFrfFE0FnF-cTB-qzUKqXSkbpA4wvsd1bhXqAM4ELxWuhXKh5p9XlYa5P/s1024/IMG_0059.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2FZ_VYNcjFQshQCjIs3vY0uskbdsBkF5mQFjehrKfy-66lu_NYkt9BzMRhagPgHsC2nxFzo5AWUA86GFVPWEIILGYutktXvBVnCa4Q2v783G-8uWF4qryJQ2KPT7geKLRWUPFrfFE0FnF-cTB-qzUKqXSkbpA4wvsd1bhXqAM4ELxWuhXKh5p9XlYa5P/w480-h640/IMG_0059.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />...and she wouldn't stop complaining when I posed her next to these crocuses. "STOP TAKING MY PICTURE!"<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4X31_OjQNCfrSnw4nG_ZJQxM3qnymX6pOENW1k7ybBa63eV2XJjHs2zrBgYLkXffZiRPth7f3pefGy6Hj8c8wxnXuSJsJsHCpYIInod2gCc-GCO_JnAgCnK6Yak1l8QrXdkCxOU0hVSOwAzbVRqmKASBdCz9-i6SDKYiBpIPaa0Q-QvC9u-y-C_q25cU8/s1024/IMG_0052.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4X31_OjQNCfrSnw4nG_ZJQxM3qnymX6pOENW1k7ybBa63eV2XJjHs2zrBgYLkXffZiRPth7f3pefGy6Hj8c8wxnXuSJsJsHCpYIInod2gCc-GCO_JnAgCnK6Yak1l8QrXdkCxOU0hVSOwAzbVRqmKASBdCz9-i6SDKYiBpIPaa0Q-QvC9u-y-C_q25cU8/w480-h640/IMG_0052.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Someone tucked a red artificial flower into the hand of one of the seated figures on the elaborate grave of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banister_Fletcher_(senior)">Banister Fletcher</a>, whose famous tome on architecture we have in our school library. I think it's just the angle of my phone that make her feet look so Sasquatch-like.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZl4WxE7UsFeVsq_XzP363dnT6NbFTDL9M4r2yyY9vZy8hnQw3o9olqdp2leKFOoOWr8UPcmcB0MNcssrmihZkMOqrA33f7WH88vw05je4adp0p2Jtu4T5UEKaPtlMcKneuhZvpRrgUHNXy4Z9YUWh71eILyqYP97c8Hdv4u_ppNpASiNC3HIs_zsemmaK/s1024/IMG_0074.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZl4WxE7UsFeVsq_XzP363dnT6NbFTDL9M4r2yyY9vZy8hnQw3o9olqdp2leKFOoOWr8UPcmcB0MNcssrmihZkMOqrA33f7WH88vw05je4adp0p2Jtu4T5UEKaPtlMcKneuhZvpRrgUHNXy4Z9YUWh71eILyqYP97c8Hdv4u_ppNpASiNC3HIs_zsemmaK/w480-h640/IMG_0074.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />We found an old football -- and you know how much they drive Olga crazy. She gnawed at it and tore the pink covering off. I let her have her fun, but when she got down to the fibrous inner part of the ball, I worried that she'd swallow some of those long strands. So I took it away from her. I had to use the phrase "BAD GIRL!" which is the only command that will make her drop something. Her eyes widened in surprise -- I bet I haven't used it in years.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="385" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E977x4BMfIg?si=_Hdn2iUYZ4MdzWSJ" title="YouTube video player" width="630"></iframe></div><br />Before that, though, it was good to see her so excited and playful! She's not <i>really</i> a bad girl, as I made clear to her once I disposed of the ball.<br /><br />I had a long Facetime conversation with my brother in the afternoon, and it was good to catch up with him. We had some income tax questions related to my mom's estate, but we got that sorted out and now I suppose I have to sit down and do taxes -- next weekend, in all likelihood. I am <i>not</i> looking forward to it.Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-56049957239192515512024-03-03T07:10:00.006+00:002024-03-03T08:49:56.714+00:00Milton Keynes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSR9JWp_iIuTpwa25E0oNtSEvl4U3gpfqgtm_tZHBExEoAnJa9zz6op1MUsgfFQ_SwtVaTCKngO-4Izf6wKexlsNlWSV-pNYgmD1-08cIPR3QYcKB_MLJfmcFP7GFIfdoK4B-0Bc_d_0B_2EAM37aevaoMu4ryOnNNP3LoTTxZMPD5TXKLqDUDLleT_3T/s1024/I54A4426.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSR9JWp_iIuTpwa25E0oNtSEvl4U3gpfqgtm_tZHBExEoAnJa9zz6op1MUsgfFQ_SwtVaTCKngO-4Izf6wKexlsNlWSV-pNYgmD1-08cIPR3QYcKB_MLJfmcFP7GFIfdoK4B-0Bc_d_0B_2EAM37aevaoMu4ryOnNNP3LoTTxZMPD5TXKLqDUDLleT_3T/w640-h426/I54A4426.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Yesterday I took a day trip north of London to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milton_Keynes">Milton Keynes</a>, a surprisingly large, blandly modern "new city" that arose within my lifetime as a solution to housing shortages in greater London. Britain built several of these "new cities" in the middle of the last century. In this case, Milton Keynes swallowed up several smaller villages, including one that was its namesake, originally known as Middleton. It gained the Keynes when the de Cahaignes family controlled the manor in the Middle Ages; the Norman name later became Anglicized. One of the best-known Keynes descendants is economist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Maynard_Keynes">John Maynard</a>.<br /><br />Anyway, I didn't pick Milton Keynes entirely randomly. There's an exhibit there at the moment of the photography of <a href="https://www.saulleiterfoundation.org/">Saul Leiter</a>, a mid-century New York photographer and painter whose work I admire. I thought I'd catch the show as well as take some pictures of my own.<br /><br />I rode the train up from London (fun fact: there's a town on the way called Leighton Buzzard) and disembarked in late morning. The plaza in front of the train station is a candyland of pastels. I walked the wide, optimistically named Midsummer Boulevard into town, and at first I wasn't all that impressed. Milton Keynes is too new to be cool; it doesn't have the retro pizzaz of '50s architecture. It looks like a branch bank built in about 1984, with all the charm of a plastic bouquet.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXD1FNv9WfGsxIwD0wP-QNlTe0zP2u4I9kl_-dcypLbw1mc-IztMPRJMZf6ex_7pDwfAdIvCs5wAKvBUvbslMPEjdLT3PXottTjjsGzQSsuCb8No-MEAQMIfiuXIQ5mjx90SLIv2MlzTjPzMe79nhtNhTZNXBU5pftf9__I0i0f4bOaiwTrFWCyK-vjY67/s1024/I54A4456.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXD1FNv9WfGsxIwD0wP-QNlTe0zP2u4I9kl_-dcypLbw1mc-IztMPRJMZf6ex_7pDwfAdIvCs5wAKvBUvbslMPEjdLT3PXottTjjsGzQSsuCb8No-MEAQMIfiuXIQ5mjx90SLIv2MlzTjPzMe79nhtNhTZNXBU5pftf9__I0i0f4bOaiwTrFWCyK-vjY67/w640-h426/I54A4456.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />But there <i>is</i> a lot of greenery and spaciousness, and by the time I got out to the Light Pyramid, a sculpture by Liliane Lijn standing on a bluff in a large park overlooking the valley, Milton Keynes was growing on me. (The Light Pyramid lights up for special events, but obviously I didn't see that.)<br /><br />The middle of town is a gigantic shopping center. I browsed the mall for a while, although it was heaving with people. I had lunch and then went to the Leiter exhibit.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.saulleiterfoundation.org/color">Leiter's photographs</a> tend to be dreamy, mostly urban images with lots of layers -- he loved shooting through railings and past curtains and walls and cars, often grabbing just a fragment of a human figure beyond. He liked rain and snow, umbrellas and hats. His <a href="https://www.saulleiterfoundation.org/paintings">paintings</a>, which are also part of the exhibit, are colorful abstractions, some of which he apparently used as bookmarks.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxXLvJGy99CeK7bFvmmKWzguVhaLxt29S7Zf6PoAWmDUCEqNjneSxYM2sq8Hrm9QmNoLU7wXmZzaRmkZdGOlSKQu2ISiUEzHz-NoPzZxQ_HJtQJTYYhAZoT0yNVBRmXwxZRcVNl0M64utNySBPrWNdvoEXuqkkrMrQ9UfOecFCiMg-l0PZEV0bro3ItWP/s1024/I54A4466.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxXLvJGy99CeK7bFvmmKWzguVhaLxt29S7Zf6PoAWmDUCEqNjneSxYM2sq8Hrm9QmNoLU7wXmZzaRmkZdGOlSKQu2ISiUEzHz-NoPzZxQ_HJtQJTYYhAZoT0yNVBRmXwxZRcVNl0M64utNySBPrWNdvoEXuqkkrMrQ9UfOecFCiMg-l0PZEV0bro3ItWP/w640-h426/I54A4466.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>When I emerged from the gallery, the sun was out, which transformed the cityscape and gave me some more photo opportunities. Maybe not Saul Leiter quality, but not too terrible.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtst-FsentoGmqIagl7GxllJaGt0fI-cXYkSUM3nOY7PWzvRweAXH41_MvAziD5TJRP59ivJB87zeHMB6qVNtXnUSj_S8K1VuuyEMT6qluDQg8zLjJTrmU0dDPQJ_Cjo-kG-Mlhw5FAO6KItLQjkyRqk-2JZCIfYTwwB9DxjvDfYiUc2YpLhxx5FXUWqw1/s1024/I54A4470.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtst-FsentoGmqIagl7GxllJaGt0fI-cXYkSUM3nOY7PWzvRweAXH41_MvAziD5TJRP59ivJB87zeHMB6qVNtXnUSj_S8K1VuuyEMT6qluDQg8zLjJTrmU0dDPQJ_Cjo-kG-Mlhw5FAO6KItLQjkyRqk-2JZCIfYTwwB9DxjvDfYiUc2YpLhxx5FXUWqw1/w640-h426/I54A4470.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5r-tH38Rl8yy_W3l873LCwOEI4gi9z-rqIllXOOPuVSgxNOiRj5JbqR2q7nG048heqi3FdPFzJPaFJZe0wbE9aeWiAv-xiOhzOiPjXM_mvpXMrGTDYAch34g5heImaVUQVpZ5wCM_tRMZY6MignRzRLB8SSnVIEh-gDa-K_yWUBpF0uqpS5MADmU_NUt/s1024/I54A4487.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5r-tH38Rl8yy_W3l873LCwOEI4gi9z-rqIllXOOPuVSgxNOiRj5JbqR2q7nG048heqi3FdPFzJPaFJZe0wbE9aeWiAv-xiOhzOiPjXM_mvpXMrGTDYAch34g5heImaVUQVpZ5wCM_tRMZY6MignRzRLB8SSnVIEh-gDa-K_yWUBpF0uqpS5MADmU_NUt/w640-h426/I54A4487.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkx3cb8acSj8HtwDuYZooRrn2a0eT_3D3I7WXbyFFJuobW-_sgbkvVSYd0ww2UtF-TrN7Hu4SRMKjG2LPuCJi-A6oba_g2qh-yKEpqNXDOxfpuncqusDCHKVH-NEauaogaH7TuW4vEshyphenhyphenNcn8epc-wLADlVxPXe8LKY9bF-tfG-O__1h9-LnqU8ZjRc6hj/s1024/I54A4496.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkx3cb8acSj8HtwDuYZooRrn2a0eT_3D3I7WXbyFFJuobW-_sgbkvVSYd0ww2UtF-TrN7Hu4SRMKjG2LPuCJi-A6oba_g2qh-yKEpqNXDOxfpuncqusDCHKVH-NEauaogaH7TuW4vEshyphenhyphenNcn8epc-wLADlVxPXe8LKY9bF-tfG-O__1h9-LnqU8ZjRc6hj/w640-h426/I54A4496.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I slowly made my way back to the train and got home in mid-afternoon.<br /><br />Last night we watched "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie," with Maggie Smith, on a DVD that I rescued from <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-dvd-purge.html">a library purge</a> years ago. I've seen it before but for some reason I didn't remember it accurately. I thought it was the student played by Pamela Franklin who dies in the Spanish Civil War, but it's not -- it's a different girl entirely. I have the weird feeling I've realized this on past viewings, too, but it seems that erroneous memory is embedded in my brain for good.Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-3201456831717595552024-03-02T07:08:00.000+00:002024-03-02T07:08:02.208+00:00Yellow Braces<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHxWaclkA5eJZZHb3_Z8OT2DksyUrjoJE9svUKEJhRsPnEiwW6tKL6_qjVwF8OmhIOlgUiNy0P7tA1kgkhCkESt4A9J4qxevWxDm6ho5mPorZ5kdgBOVGYblt56vO4mmLqZSdnl4LOs6Q6F6ekS-RJP3FX9-KhqxVyWOPjEjjGu-hJba1QG0KdQh2IQoQ/s1024/I54A4390.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHxWaclkA5eJZZHb3_Z8OT2DksyUrjoJE9svUKEJhRsPnEiwW6tKL6_qjVwF8OmhIOlgUiNy0P7tA1kgkhCkESt4A9J4qxevWxDm6ho5mPorZ5kdgBOVGYblt56vO4mmLqZSdnl4LOs6Q6F6ekS-RJP3FX9-KhqxVyWOPjEjjGu-hJba1QG0KdQh2IQoQ/w640-h426/I54A4390.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />These older buildings on Queen's Terrace in St. John's Wood, where a huge demolition and reconstruction project is going on, have been recently braced by massive yellow girders. I've never seen anything quite like this. It's almost sculptural.<br /><br />I wrote about this street <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2023/12/getting-things-done.html">last December</a>, after noticing that the former barracks next to these terraced houses had been torn down. It's the same street where the TV series "Pistol," about the Sex Pistols, <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2021/04/pistols.html">was filmed</a>.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKd9leyhwzyCM6dXIuWavOMpfr1RXy_DZG1aE7wBN2m1no4-tdOXl2RCckyo1m7PCeBpVl6_4R1xTNJTtawS_hsGW-9JifDawyePxcT4McO-KF566gPO8c1u8X1Dx8V2ACZB7DMn2aQVNCnyZGKeNN-9-ke4Te-u9CgvYv9Z-EOUWqAkWKH-mSysKTauM/s1024/I54A4396.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKd9leyhwzyCM6dXIuWavOMpfr1RXy_DZG1aE7wBN2m1no4-tdOXl2RCckyo1m7PCeBpVl6_4R1xTNJTtawS_hsGW-9JifDawyePxcT4McO-KF566gPO8c1u8X1Dx8V2ACZB7DMn2aQVNCnyZGKeNN-9-ke4Te-u9CgvYv9Z-EOUWqAkWKH-mSysKTauM/w640-h426/I54A4396.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Very dramatic-looking, isn't it?<br /><br />I don't have much news otherwise. The dog got me up at 6 a.m. this morning, because God forbid I should be allowed to sleep in on a weekend. She has her routines and she makes us all stick to them!Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-9293222034832468102024-03-01T07:09:00.004+00:002024-03-01T07:18:06.343+00:00Black Spot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_fIvzuLGY3qTjIVAq-UBsQ8WLNIQUNlhptPMBQSa_jd-YC4SO2sq2HeXtpjHZP6ZsN17SDrkzR2vaVkSYpb1vo7LwxfWxm3IOKQ-loVHyMNvbYxt1D20PJ4OYR0DtzjIn_xN7DhChqh3P0UCA0zZwCVMrwPP54qH8kEzJgzP4LCc6lniOl9L56w2YUuk/s1024/I54A4367.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_fIvzuLGY3qTjIVAq-UBsQ8WLNIQUNlhptPMBQSa_jd-YC4SO2sq2HeXtpjHZP6ZsN17SDrkzR2vaVkSYpb1vo7LwxfWxm3IOKQ-loVHyMNvbYxt1D20PJ4OYR0DtzjIn_xN7DhChqh3P0UCA0zZwCVMrwPP54qH8kEzJgzP4LCc6lniOl9L56w2YUuk/w640-h426/I54A4367.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Thanks for all your thoughtful replies to yesterday's post about local news. I'm glad to see that so many of you value it and keep track of it in one way or another. Even those of you who choose not to have given me food for thought, whether local news feels irrelevant to your daily life or you have concerns about the ownership or quality of your local media outlets.<br /><br />However, one thing that occurred to me while reading your responses is that we here in blogland are not a representative slice of the population. I'm sure you'll agree that we tend to skew older, at the very least, and we probably all tend to be readers. I wonder if younger people are paying more or less attention to local news, and in what form?<br /><br />Anyway, enough of that. Obviously, since it's my industry, I could talk about it all day long, but we'll let it rest for now.<br /><br />When Dave and I went to L.A. a couple of weeks ago, I borrowed some related reading material from the library for the trip. One of the books is a collection of writing by Raymond Chandler, a well-known mid-century detective novelist who I had never read. I'm reading Chandler's "The Long Goodbye" right now, and I am <i>loving</i> it. His protagonist, Philip Marlowe, is the epitome of the hard-bitten, trenchcoat-wearing, wisecracking detective, and Chandler's writing is <i>really</i> good. I can see how it's inspired so many parodies and imitators, but I'm impressed at his turn of phrase -- his word use surprises and delights at every turn.<br /><br />In the book, Marlowe mentioned being handed a $5,000 bill bearing James Madison's portrait. I thought, "Does such a thing exist?" (Obviously I have never seen one!)<br /><br />It turns out <a href="https://www.bep.gov/currency/history/historical-currency">they used to exist</a> -- along with $500, $1,000 and $10,000 notes, as well as a $100,000 "gold certificate" used only for transactions within the federal reserve. All those bills were discontinued in 1969, but you can see pictures of them at the link above. They're still legal tender and could theoretically still be circulated, but the ones that survive nowadays are probably all in the hands of collectors.<br /><br />Also, at one point Chandler offered a detailed description of a woman's hands, including her painted fingernails. This reminded me that I forgot to mention another experience on our L.A. trip. We flew Virgin Atlantic from London to L.A., and we had three male flight attendants serving us in our cabin. All three of them had expertly painted fingernails -- bright red, to match their Virgin uniforms. Dave and I agreed that having one male attendant with painted nails would be unusual enough, but having three was quite remarkable. We wondered if they all went out for a manicure together before the flight! (For the record, I wholeheartedly approved.)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRTtiJaMNTKaS3Om2cdFJgWZvvAIin-KNr7jTvcjY7fVxGBI66-kGSiUbNDhrLZQ-MvmOZ6NN-00Z3WWzLAWy8b5Yfenxla-TXv5qUnzLhRtrhcha-jkoGzEteIfy0L_VLMYDQadmzg-iWU02SBM4VqeCU7Vw8OchejQaCyYvZ1upeevIRaylcIEmrzAM/s1024/I54A4417.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRTtiJaMNTKaS3Om2cdFJgWZvvAIin-KNr7jTvcjY7fVxGBI66-kGSiUbNDhrLZQ-MvmOZ6NN-00Z3WWzLAWy8b5Yfenxla-TXv5qUnzLhRtrhcha-jkoGzEteIfy0L_VLMYDQadmzg-iWU02SBM4VqeCU7Vw8OchejQaCyYvZ1upeevIRaylcIEmrzAM/w640-h426/I54A4417.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Here's my own fingernail mystery. This is my left thumb. Last week, in the library, I had to make a sign using a Sharpie marker, and not long afterward I noticed this black spot near my thumbnail. I figured I accidentally got ink on my finger and didn't think any more about it. But the spot stayed and stayed, though countless hand-washings and dish-washings and showers, and I thought, "Hmmmm. It must not be ink."<br /><br />To be honest, I can't see it very well -- it's tiny and my eyes, even with glasses on, aren't entirely cooperative. So I went to the school nurse yesterday and said, "What IS this?"<br /><br />He thinks I injured my finger somehow and it's basically an internal bruise. He said it should disappear over time. It's possible I did it while working in the garden, perhaps cutting blackberry vines, and maybe I just didn't immediately notice it. It doesn't hurt at all. I'll be keeping an eye on it, though!<br /><i><br />(Top photo: A nighttime street scene in Vauxhall, on Sunday.)</i>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-74306532815361446812024-02-29T07:37:00.003+00:002024-02-29T07:38:10.502+00:00Do We Need Local News?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1YsctBG8PWyoBAbQHao52n18qRQKKreDV3ApxN6wFxKdhfJcGmVqpCCNqaNi80kNVLfsJIw8XRBUlCCYdhgu1okG_o9Ynzwzr9sNL2jrY3-aeA0CoFHBOMUcMDi6bZz7kiW77CZ9EE3aA2hv_cPFIHU8v_qOrW7fuD8-yjQaeaMSVM2ETzOObM0KYe1CU/s1024/I54A4265.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1YsctBG8PWyoBAbQHao52n18qRQKKreDV3ApxN6wFxKdhfJcGmVqpCCNqaNi80kNVLfsJIw8XRBUlCCYdhgu1okG_o9Ynzwzr9sNL2jrY3-aeA0CoFHBOMUcMDi6bZz7kiW77CZ9EE3aA2hv_cPFIHU8v_qOrW7fuD8-yjQaeaMSVM2ETzOObM0KYe1CU/w640-h426/I54A4265.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I read a <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/28/technology/news-media-industry-dying.html">really interesting article</a> yesterday in The New York Times about a guy who, in the '80s and '90s, was looking toward the future of newspapers in America. At the time, publishers were confident that their content was necessary and valuable, and that they would find some way to shift it online and make money from it -- either from online advertising or subscriptions.<br /><br />I was a young reporter in the '90s, when the Internet was blossoming, and I remember talking about this with my co-workers. In 1995 or so, I asked my former publisher in Sarasota, Fla., when our paper was going to develop a web site, and he said, "We will -- we just have to figure out how to make it pay." But I don't think any of us doubted that we would somehow, eventually, make money online.<br /><br />I remember confidently telling my relatives that I wasn't worried about the future of news. Newspapers as objects might not last -- the printed article itself, with paper pages -- but people would <i>always</i> need and value reliable news. Professional, trained reporters surely had a future.<br /><br />What I didn't count on is the shift in news consumption from local and regional to national and international. People nowadays seem to have little or no appetite for hyperlocal news. The social stuff -- who won ribbons at the gardening show, or marched in the Martin Luther King Day parade, or local campaigns about road closures or construction projects -- has all moved to social media. The stories are told by the participants and campaigners themselves -- no reporters needed. Maybe that's not a bad thing, though I'd argue that in the case of contentious issues it can lead to distortions.<br /><br />Meanwhile, many people have no idea what their local governments are up to. The stuff I used to cover -- city government, county commission, public hospital boards, that kind of thing -- largely goes uncovered in the modern world. (Or perhaps it's still covered by dwindling local papers with nebulous futures, but for how much longer?) The pros have found that they <a href="https://www.cjr.org/business_of_news/they-gave-local-news-away-for-free-virtually-nobody-wanted-it.php">can't even give away</a> local news.<br /><br />In many communities, no one is left to perform the essential watchdog function of a local newspaper. No one is double-checking how the mayor is spending your tax money, or whether your county commissioners are respecting public meetings laws or making unorthodox deals with developers. And what blows my mind -- and what I never foresaw in my career in local news -- is that apparently NOBODY CARES!<br /><br />My theory is that as the Internet opened up our worlds, and we spent more time on social media platforms that cross geographical boundaries, we all gravitated to discussion topics we share -- and that's national and international news. We see it here in blogland, where we can discuss and debate Ukraine or Joe Biden and Donald Trump, but it's harder to talk about local issues because our readers don't share the same frame of reference. (There <i>are</i> local news blogs but they struggle too -- remember how <a href="http://Patch.com">Patch.com</a> was supposed to reinvent local news for online platforms? I haven't heard much about Patch lately, though apparently it's still out there, at least in some areas.)<br /><br />I must admit that here in London, I have little idea what my local council is up to on a routine basis, though I do read two local papers online, the <a href="https://www.hamhigh.co.uk/news/">Ham & High</a> and the <a href="https://www.camdennewjournal.co.uk/">Camden New Journal</a>.<br /><br />I'm curious -- how many of you reading this blog subscribe to a local news outlet? Why or why not?<br /><br />It seems to me that "community," which used to mean our next-door neighbors, our town or county, now means something much more amorphous. It's less geographical and more ideological. Our communities are now the people we hang out with online, often people who think like us and reinforce our beliefs. I suspect the struggle of local news outlets, and our polarized political climate, both reflect that shift.<br /><i><br />(Photo: A watchful trash bag on West End Lane, last Saturday.)</i>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-59860099348574719282024-02-28T06:08:00.002+00:002024-02-28T06:13:51.115+00:00Cosmo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVGn7YLHWTSJ5TA3LmudY-5Eln9K0a_Pq3d3SMN-WKsKPO3gRzHXPmQMszPRTMkEGFDZixM0fqAvURfzFQeY2QCoZerLYeCSHh4ByotP5cGsi64RzaoxapYOoA1FSeD9IPibLWD4VuC6CdzbgaDNvSF8I-8XZFilb2_pQfa6qDcXi6PuB57Whv6BEEenE/s1024/I54A4373.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVGn7YLHWTSJ5TA3LmudY-5Eln9K0a_Pq3d3SMN-WKsKPO3gRzHXPmQMszPRTMkEGFDZixM0fqAvURfzFQeY2QCoZerLYeCSHh4ByotP5cGsi64RzaoxapYOoA1FSeD9IPibLWD4VuC6CdzbgaDNvSF8I-8XZFilb2_pQfa6qDcXi6PuB57Whv6BEEenE/w640-h426/I54A4373.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I was walking home from work on Monday when I noticed this old ghost sign on Finchley Road. See it, against the concrete? It had been covered up by another sign and was exposed when that one came down. It says "Cosmo Restaurant."<br /><br />I wondered how old the sign was. So I did some online sleuthing and it turns out that the Cosmo Restaurant, which was in business from 1937 until 1998, had <a href="https://www.hamhigh.co.uk/news/21378892.finchley-road-restaurant-remembered-saviour-jews-fleeing-fascism/">a long and colorful history</a>. It was seen as a center of the vibrant Jewish community that sprang up in northwest London, and a venue where Jews who had fled fascism and the Holocaust often gathered. Even Sigmund Freud, who lived a short walk away, is said to have patronized the place, though Freud died in 1939 so if that's true he couldn't have gone there long.<br /><br />There's a <a href="https://www.londonremembers.com/memorials/cosmo-restaurant">blue plaque</a> marking the restaurant's significance on an outer wall. (I'm noticing that the plaque gives an opening year of 1933, which is earlier than some published accounts. That would make more sense for Freud, I suppose.)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKK8vQDF1zt9aTScY5NT9Kvzgz0EueGraneI8yk8kcth5vDolsNmR0pQdCrHpNd5h3c94Nlx2W3p4xAq_i6dahfBF2woxcSfDpwt2pioQ0KBjGqUd4gjLhPZK7KF7ao8YAchFVvfsPKrHu1gAlVQZya8_ASFp422Uc-JwomLMrXO8JitDhFC1y7ds9goNP/s392/I54A4397.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="320" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKK8vQDF1zt9aTScY5NT9Kvzgz0EueGraneI8yk8kcth5vDolsNmR0pQdCrHpNd5h3c94Nlx2W3p4xAq_i6dahfBF2woxcSfDpwt2pioQ0KBjGqUd4gjLhPZK7KF7ao8YAchFVvfsPKrHu1gAlVQZya8_ASFp422Uc-JwomLMrXO8JitDhFC1y7ds9goNP/w326-h400/I54A4397.jpg" width="326" /></a></div>The Cosmo's history was even <a href="https://www.jewishrenaissance.org.uk/blog/the-cosmo-comes-to-life-again">the subject of a musical theater production</a> in 2019. That linked article gives a lot of information about the restaurant through the memories of its patrons. Artist Pamela Howard, who helped create the theater piece, is quoted as saying, "I was a provincial girl from Birmingham studying at the Slade School of Art. I used to walk up Finchley Road early in the morning to Swiss Cottage station. I would look in the window of this café, where I saw all these ‘old people’ and I thought, who are they?"<br /><br />I can easily imagine what that must have looked like, peering in the window and seeing all these people with so much shared history.<br /><br />The Cosmo closed in 1998 -- probably around the time many of its patrons were vanishing -- so the ghost sign must be at least that old. I think the bit in the middle probably said "fully licensed," a phrase that appears on a lot of old restaurant facades in the UK. (It seems odd to me that a restaurant would have to point out that it's licensed, but whatever.)<br /><br />In more recent years, the Cosmo site was the home of a <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.5448166,-0.1759802,3a,75y,40.75h,89.43t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sf7Ix32hL6oXT5MnrHqOuKA!2e0!5s20120701T000000!7i13312!8i6656?hl=en&entry=ttu">couple of</a> <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.5447825,-0.1759969,3a,75y,40.75h,89.43t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sMS4x3ERXpDKE21ZggLUiQw!2e0!5s20140701T000000!7i13312!8i6656?hl=en&entry=ttu">Indian restaurants</a>, a <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.5448105,-0.175977,3a,75y,40.07h,91.15t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sNBInS04wVcbTLB4K5yicaQ!2e0!5s20190701T000000!7i16384!8i8192?hl=en&entry=ttu">gelato place</a> and then <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.5448089,-0.1759714,3a,75y,40.07h,91.15t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sWtd0XmGHXjeYGJJi6J7Igw!2e0!5s20210701T000000!7i16384!8i8192?hl=en&entry=ttu">a spa</a>. If the signs on the windows are accurate, a Chinese restaurant is going in next.<br /><br />I thought all this was pretty interesting. Once again, walking around London, we're all surrounded by history!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8vEVGn9RszWRTsN7wBVFg833VPMDNqgU_mJHisIfwQCixaocMLd-R0TbIJwKs_rKBg7nItukZK70VT7YJxEsxyY-MSK2uVwNsyjQM5p9_koN4rIMlAKJQi-cPnsPaJXJ-dh6jcESoj6gonZ74KOqCwLKQ4gDO477Rm3MpQPYWmKwVyAB_D_nUYFO3WKl/s1024/I54A4399.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8vEVGn9RszWRTsN7wBVFg833VPMDNqgU_mJHisIfwQCixaocMLd-R0TbIJwKs_rKBg7nItukZK70VT7YJxEsxyY-MSK2uVwNsyjQM5p9_koN4rIMlAKJQi-cPnsPaJXJ-dh6jcESoj6gonZ74KOqCwLKQ4gDO477Rm3MpQPYWmKwVyAB_D_nUYFO3WKl/w640-h426/I54A4399.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-86225121716064000192024-02-27T07:16:00.000+00:002024-02-27T07:16:08.967+00:00More Winter Lights<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFCXp31a7dmCMEi-Z6nD7Gh6ON4raq58hyphenhyphen3U8arBmQ7XPIAucB_VIZIidBaLajRkUx7gS1LvNWQbXx-dESW9XMvj7DRTiqg8T6ZkSqpHKC8IOXutTQCc6UsmglfYhZtCUBbDdKK_KIeGh_il_oEKk7E1Gd_xyX7YZS1CbPU24ECB6sYNA3GwESWplcZBb/s1024/I54A4339.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFCXp31a7dmCMEi-Z6nD7Gh6ON4raq58hyphenhyphen3U8arBmQ7XPIAucB_VIZIidBaLajRkUx7gS1LvNWQbXx-dESW9XMvj7DRTiqg8T6ZkSqpHKC8IOXutTQCc6UsmglfYhZtCUBbDdKK_KIeGh_il_oEKk7E1Gd_xyX7YZS1CbPU24ECB6sYNA3GwESWplcZBb/w640-h426/I54A4339.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Remember when I went to the <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2024/01/winter-lights.html">Winter Lights</a> show in Canary Wharf last month? It's an annual event featuring artworks that use light (and often sound) in innovative ways, perfect for our dark winter months.<br /><br />Well, while researching that show, I saw that a Winter Lights event was also planned for the redeveloped Battersea Power Station, now a massive housing complex and shopping center. I put that on my agenda too, and I've been meaning to go for weeks, but life kept intervening -- work stuff, our trip to California, Dave's surgery, et cetera.<br /><br />Last Sunday was its final day, so that evening -- even though I'd already walked Olga around Hampstead Heath, and even though the weather forecast called for rain -- I decided to hop on the tube and go down and see it.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifWPmTtsRV1hGM-sZyfgGMm0ytOwrKjgLuA6exSMoujO8r4lAViM1qlftPFF6pVi9e5oic8pwSiBsb4nIVXuh1wujlHrG6PwcmFE55jVWCYK_R0t_B9vL4Tgv6mXZ1dftqH2onuyEmjGq4S94iM7l4WzwUqTb4vfj76r0egqG84HRcUl1LiNxvd4WfvH1/s1024/I54A4356.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifWPmTtsRV1hGM-sZyfgGMm0ytOwrKjgLuA6exSMoujO8r4lAViM1qlftPFF6pVi9e5oic8pwSiBsb4nIVXuh1wujlHrG6PwcmFE55jVWCYK_R0t_B9vL4Tgv6mXZ1dftqH2onuyEmjGq4S94iM7l4WzwUqTb4vfj76r0egqG84HRcUl1LiNxvd4WfvH1/w640-h426/I54A4356.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />It was smaller than the Canary Wharf event, and thus easier to take in. I believe there were seven featured works, including "Butterfly Effect" (top) and "Large Diamond" (above).<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1crpfCz-2iy43uq-B_NXGMhfnQe7zGvhvEQh_Bfei_jU8LDXL4gHcXlrMJrksW2UXQ6f6FV-IkF-2RUwXov-prNcqTfSNn3a-x-nzoFK7jcvxW20JyGZUXw4-0pDp4-94RGAh1kfBOPtrv_ZBUU4FUwshMIxW9oYx0AZDeDPYqF84GEbCeT_2o-_YG6tD/s1024/I54A4348.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1crpfCz-2iy43uq-B_NXGMhfnQe7zGvhvEQh_Bfei_jU8LDXL4gHcXlrMJrksW2UXQ6f6FV-IkF-2RUwXov-prNcqTfSNn3a-x-nzoFK7jcvxW20JyGZUXw4-0pDp4-94RGAh1kfBOPtrv_ZBUU4FUwshMIxW9oYx0AZDeDPYqF84GEbCeT_2o-_YG6tD/w426-h640/I54A4348.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />I also came across a troupe of women wearing roller skates and spinning colorful lit-up hoops. They aren't listed in the program so I have no idea who they are or what their group is called, but they were fun to watch too.<br /><br />Still photos don't do any of this justice. "Large Diamond," for example, has a beautiful shimmering effect that reflects on surrounding surfaces, kind of like a disco ball but more subtle. The lighting on all the artworks fluctuates and changes, and some of them include elements of sound as well. So here's a four-minute video:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="385" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uf6mx09J0AE?si=SQx0jmUdx-zG7w1I" title="YouTube video player" width="630"></iframe></div><br />Artworks depicted, in order:<br />1. "Singularity" by Squidsoup <div>2. "Butterfly Effect" by Masamichi Shimada </div><div>3. "Lightpiano 1.5" by Arion de Munck & Mark Ridder </div><div>4. "Lightbattle III" by Venividimultiplex </div><div>5. "C/C" by Angela Chong </div><div>6. Entertainers with glowing rings and skates </div><div>7. "Large Diamond" by Studio Freerk Wilbers<br /><br />Watch for the moment when I'm backing away from "Singularity" (and thus having trouble holding my phone straight) and the exterior lights of the power station come on. I was lucky to catch that.<br /><br />You'll notice I left ambient sound in the segment for "Lightpiano" (for obvious reasons) but put music over the rest of the video. That's because my videos were so darn noisy. I didn't want to subject you to the sound of the wind and kids yelling and passers-by nattering about whether or not to stop in to M&S to buy some beans. "Singularity" had a musical element as well but you couldn't really hear it, so hopefully this copyright-free music from iMovie is a worthy substitute!<br /></div>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-237374024096335962024-02-26T06:49:00.001+00:002024-02-26T06:55:39.320+00:00Back to Parliament Hill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzDx3WEn5no9qzxmjeobHr9pKeK7XDgwjtoy-3k5u3r-nsYxUTZ3Nldi8rP5JPClL6MrN2XD2o5-xeQdziz6t7GHjZwqVwCfXeWVMrVTK84ye4ZZ6hZ3y_bmz4_ndbLZrhoc2IbToEJW37R3rcYqz36CA9kEgQXgHXojML5xpygkXP6WBA8FC7T7lZl9n/s1024/I54A4281.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzDx3WEn5no9qzxmjeobHr9pKeK7XDgwjtoy-3k5u3r-nsYxUTZ3Nldi8rP5JPClL6MrN2XD2o5-xeQdziz6t7GHjZwqVwCfXeWVMrVTK84ye4ZZ6hZ3y_bmz4_ndbLZrhoc2IbToEJW37R3rcYqz36CA9kEgQXgHXojML5xpygkXP6WBA8FC7T7lZl9n/w640-h426/I54A4281.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Olga and I set out for an adventure yesterday morning. We hadn't been to Parliament Hill, a scenic overlook on Hampstead Heath, in a long, long time -- possibly since <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2020/07/balsam-and-blackberries.html">this outing</a> in July 2020. When I walked past it on Tuesday, while crossing the Heath to pick up Dave in the hospital, I thought, "I should bring the dog back here!" So I did.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7qlFdO34KbOMnPrsLUhpUZOjBe5zl_W3bXONDdacZW87334jkYk5xYGnz9pYpF1EP1ca0825FXW__j7HBJpBZ3v3xsiB2ZFkhyphenhyphen_3BpDQpHju3QXCqXkIyJldz1Jn8HQVI91MajS2_3FGDg9oI6-K8uUwMBYlTw-tQQCHCGCeuilIl3jbJr7laVo9tAEG/s1024/I54A4273.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7qlFdO34KbOMnPrsLUhpUZOjBe5zl_W3bXONDdacZW87334jkYk5xYGnz9pYpF1EP1ca0825FXW__j7HBJpBZ3v3xsiB2ZFkhyphenhyphen_3BpDQpHju3QXCqXkIyJldz1Jn8HQVI91MajS2_3FGDg9oI6-K8uUwMBYlTw-tQQCHCGCeuilIl3jbJr7laVo9tAEG/w426-h640/I54A4273.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />I didn't want to have her walk the whole way -- I think that's too much for her advanced age. So we took the train from West Hampstead to Hampstead Heath station, and walked up the hill from there. It was slow going because nowadays Olga has to sniff every little thing, a curious habit that seems to develop in older dogs. But we got there in the end.<br /><br />As you can see, the view was hazy, but that created its own interesting effects.<br /><br />I was thinking that Parliament Hill is the highest point in London, but apparently that's wrong -- in fact <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_highest_points_in_London">it's not even close</a>. At 322 feet, it's not even the highest point on Hampstead Heath. The view is what makes it so famous.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsMbbXnWNfbWSanNumVOFz9WVof384Hu7vioqsNO7g7BX5bwcl2rruXJoUOZkRwUD4QqjCocjtRjJzwmoegVkrCBiltEks3Ls_MJY63KI4B-KMw92QeacCdBTRXFopDgUY8irxkp-_8a3i4D6zXjgunbUSwEMprn25ggB8AljR9gRCKc4R84FXaiYykrO/s1024/I54A4288.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsMbbXnWNfbWSanNumVOFz9WVof384Hu7vioqsNO7g7BX5bwcl2rruXJoUOZkRwUD4QqjCocjtRjJzwmoegVkrCBiltEks3Ls_MJY63KI4B-KMw92QeacCdBTRXFopDgUY8irxkp-_8a3i4D6zXjgunbUSwEMprn25ggB8AljR9gRCKc4R84FXaiYykrO/w640-h426/I54A4288.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Olga rolled happily in the mud, and chased her tennis ball...<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjZA0lWwQWYLXmyzNAax__lUZJvJcA_QXHTfgMT7quk9NmgNwzVRoBXiJJJpPkoiwoU5XFVIwHpQXSBp4daU9gDO_4pQvW6dpjETYp3vVMw6jgw358h8qjEUdJddw9vMLX13XLtav1ODjwu2wumfyRkKUAv9-NeCZDwwH0n8nBlanveWWcDRhVs1YVVHC/s1024/I54A4298.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjZA0lWwQWYLXmyzNAax__lUZJvJcA_QXHTfgMT7quk9NmgNwzVRoBXiJJJpPkoiwoU5XFVIwHpQXSBp4daU9gDO_4pQvW6dpjETYp3vVMw6jgw358h8qjEUdJddw9vMLX13XLtav1ODjwu2wumfyRkKUAv9-NeCZDwwH0n8nBlanveWWcDRhVs1YVVHC/w640-h426/I54A4298.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />...before taking a swim in one of the Heath ponds. The swim was inadvertent; she was wading and stepped off an underwater ledge. Fortunately she <i>can</i> swim, and when she came out of the water she was invigorated and wide-eyed, as if saying, "WOW! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" She ran around and shook to work off the adrenaline and get the water out of her ears.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuS9_3qd_O1wTQaxVa6pk_6rLqoIYZ530DPv-PXxA4ODEP2wzZh-SlRaDRVXHmCBa3QIzf9H9ohAHoU52vMvGCinrRULcFCGIGnOXWoluZzkI3ZrH0nYwmLkSh1b3XRBQcwn7MY7gJiscQiGthJ1DrDuNSP3Dj3Pefj9b_Qmb4UATCJpZ7XvpvL9DJPpdr/s1024/I54A4303.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuS9_3qd_O1wTQaxVa6pk_6rLqoIYZ530DPv-PXxA4ODEP2wzZh-SlRaDRVXHmCBa3QIzf9H9ohAHoU52vMvGCinrRULcFCGIGnOXWoluZzkI3ZrH0nYwmLkSh1b3XRBQcwn7MY7gJiscQiGthJ1DrDuNSP3Dj3Pefj9b_Qmb4UATCJpZ7XvpvL9DJPpdr/w640-h426/I54A4303.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />We walked back to the train past the Parliament Hill athletic complex, headed for the station at Gospel Oak. Once again, I couldn't remember exactly where the station was and we had to backtrack a bit. I don't know why, after living here more than a decade, I can never find that bloody station.<br /><br />Anyway, it was a fun morning out and Olga was none the worse for wear. She slept soundly all afternoon and she got half a paracetamol with her dinner, and now she's bouncing around as usual!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNLNl_3uAAQcK9ex-LZ3P3ScgsIK1szIms0bcRLHWvNbihyyiFc0pmTrNi7mSOjpdwH3kCyhsgkz_hpEujcb2fyhJbaUX3V-2vMYEcHGJ1MUrHCEi1Hrw4sgcZqz4DXPweTvkjfwL2rv_QEpFsDfF-qYr_IBA2iwGj14U2z1TJFPeVF3gPr0szciXCwe2/s1024/I54A4313.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNLNl_3uAAQcK9ex-LZ3P3ScgsIK1szIms0bcRLHWvNbihyyiFc0pmTrNi7mSOjpdwH3kCyhsgkz_hpEujcb2fyhJbaUX3V-2vMYEcHGJ1MUrHCEi1Hrw4sgcZqz4DXPweTvkjfwL2rv_QEpFsDfF-qYr_IBA2iwGj14U2z1TJFPeVF3gPr0szciXCwe2/w640-h426/I54A4313.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-71198614422243196572024-02-25T07:53:00.004+00:002024-02-25T07:57:27.159+00:00Book and Movie and TV Show<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFTtghCeo48_VVnDbqsPzPbSp3PJq5246AazEiDKl0TmToWLTBf729UJ-4BOKAfVmPM4_5RgDpBLQ8uxwa6CGFceX7-3USdK9y1hFvt3zPTI8NIApZxEblF7PPVMyxZGf-SFgUUiQE6VeUOhvzHc5Tpy8mn9oYV-EzKl0AMfxgrQvGjvmY5pEDnReYYSS/s1024/I54A4259.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFTtghCeo48_VVnDbqsPzPbSp3PJq5246AazEiDKl0TmToWLTBf729UJ-4BOKAfVmPM4_5RgDpBLQ8uxwa6CGFceX7-3USdK9y1hFvt3zPTI8NIApZxEblF7PPVMyxZGf-SFgUUiQE6VeUOhvzHc5Tpy8mn9oYV-EzKl0AMfxgrQvGjvmY5pEDnReYYSS/w640-h426/I54A4259.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I forgot to mention in yesterday's post that we had hail on Friday. I was sitting at my desk in the library when I heard a clattering sound on the skylight, and about that time some kids came into the library from outside, talking about the hail raining down. I texted Dave at home, and he said it was coming down in our garden, too. Drama from the skies! It wasn't big enough to cause any damage -- just little pea-sized pellets.<br /><br />Yesterday was indeed a very domestic day -- which is why you're getting this picture of the sunlight in our dining room. I barely left the house. It was just what I needed -- a restorative day to catch up on life.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6uxb9dfH7xiygN8BedZI589O21YVJWsMeVNBExOmUV5vBpvILWz5jxwkoBXJFkpxNtVAT4RcJBIWfUn-GXm7RlRw1sKKI_ynK3YMMOStGU8oGkqGeIaq18Z2b_iDh8ODFvRCxEM3yDOuRbQp-llbG6O32n8QS6t-LCOYbMtxyB6avqgPoQ12L9TvC1WD/s1024/I54A4262.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6uxb9dfH7xiygN8BedZI589O21YVJWsMeVNBExOmUV5vBpvILWz5jxwkoBXJFkpxNtVAT4RcJBIWfUn-GXm7RlRw1sKKI_ynK3YMMOStGU8oGkqGeIaq18Z2b_iDh8ODFvRCxEM3yDOuRbQp-llbG6O32n8QS6t-LCOYbMtxyB6avqgPoQ12L9TvC1WD/w640-h426/I54A4262.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Our windowsill cactus is going gangbusters, with <i>four</i> flowers. I don't think we've ever seen that many blossoms at once!<br /><br />Our other windowsill cactus isn't blooming -- it never has -- but its colorful spines glow reddish orange in the sunlight.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zIqS3D148if7Wn0_6qqDt3lUtdfM97IE1LIFzcsqxC6SbQ2JxpnR2DMzK0kf18E41NVMmaUAL4xv70Bk2xQ5kdluVcIHh3GDHxrKSSvs2Bz4pIIIEF0noavvKHpsRtVt6EwBQe0A0UNPrGDT-x6VVQOgvZBaliat8Er9orSeIlBlV_zIpuYj0i4WcLhZ/s1024/I54A4253.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="487" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zIqS3D148if7Wn0_6qqDt3lUtdfM97IE1LIFzcsqxC6SbQ2JxpnR2DMzK0kf18E41NVMmaUAL4xv70Bk2xQ5kdluVcIHh3GDHxrKSSvs2Bz4pIIIEF0noavvKHpsRtVt6EwBQe0A0UNPrGDT-x6VVQOgvZBaliat8Er9orSeIlBlV_zIpuYj0i4WcLhZ/w304-h640/I54A4253.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>So what did I do yesterday? Well, I cleaned, for one thing. I always feel better when I put the house in order.<br /><br />Then I read the young adult book "Dinky Hocker Shoots Smack!" which some of you may remember from your own years in school. It came out way back in 1972, and I remember seeing it in my own school library back in the late '70s. It was the basis for an ABC After-School Special on TV. But I never read it because I was put off by the title, which seemed super-gross to me. A couple of weeks ago, my boss pulled it off our shelves to weed, so I thought I'd give it a try and see if it's something we should keep.<br /><br />It's somewhat dated now, with references to "encounter groups" and that kind of thing. It's also not <i>that</i> great. The plot is a bit scattered. I think there are better YA books, and ones modern kids will connect with more.<br /><br />I also watched a movie called "All the Right Noises," from 1971, starring Olivia Hussey. It's the kind of movie that would never be made today -- about a married theatrical crew member who has an affair with an actress, who turns out to be 15 years old. And does he stop the affair when he finds out? NO! Why should he?! It was the '70s.<br /><br />The only reason I watched it is because it incorporates songs by Melanie in the soundtrack. I only heard about this cinematic adventure with <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2024/01/melanie.html">Melanie's recent death</a>, so I thought I'd catch up with it. I'm not sure her songs were an essential part of the film. They seemed like a bit of an afterthought. (And I knew them all from earlier albums anyway.)<br /><br />Dave and I are also finishing up the third season of "Slow Horses" on Apple TV, which has been really good. And that's the pop-culture roundup from West Hampstead!Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5123631695572626256.post-82445163037354524652024-02-24T07:25:00.001+00:002024-02-24T08:33:27.142+00:00Weekend Miscellany<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxuzAkjLdOoywmsSty2ANuhIAkXTjTIuEoS26KctratClcE0jxcJSY2w87rU0tlnT9cZ-25mrs3MFDkTyZhU5nihXKuqfQnCjRLnM0pg7eoV-7By-AajZw-pib8nSe7hWsk-SQIuCSb_IW4ObnZODSNkQF6IwiTX4C4o3LcDXko8fmiyD4PDkUhyJQ5fXb/s1024/IMG_9995.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxuzAkjLdOoywmsSty2ANuhIAkXTjTIuEoS26KctratClcE0jxcJSY2w87rU0tlnT9cZ-25mrs3MFDkTyZhU5nihXKuqfQnCjRLnM0pg7eoV-7By-AajZw-pib8nSe7hWsk-SQIuCSb_IW4ObnZODSNkQF6IwiTX4C4o3LcDXko8fmiyD4PDkUhyJQ5fXb/w640-h480/IMG_9995.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Here's what the garden looks like this morning, with the grass a bit frosty and the light a pale blue. It got down to 32º F (0º C) last night, which is colder than I expected, and I didn't bring anything in for protection. Wouldn't it be ironic if, after <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2023/12/misdemeanant.html">stealing that citrus tree</a> to protect it from the cold, I then inadvertently kill it by leaving it outside? I don't think it got <i>that</i> cold, though. I think everything should be fine.<br /><br />I am <i>so</i> looking forward to this weekend. I have nothing planned. I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay home and relax and decompress. I had a pretty good day of decompression yesterday, with a steady but not overwhelming pace of students coming to me for help and a chance to read some blogs in between.<br /><br />And yes, <a href="https://shadowsteve.blogspot.com/2024/02/old-spice-literally.html">the tiger</a> is still there!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-q6TPufp-QW13nz-pllpIGf4-fvoDJA2R8jxtYKsE8zarWpR45jpkI7aObvACRqSa7aJEn8I2jOrTwo2fab8gg7JFoURg7gMJsFCBB_qii6MHSzgHhrlXRshXTTvD9hLSFzXaTguM5gRkYeXnmCITkY6gDr2hv0s4Z4B7uvzgfSYwljN_2E_Zv5W9D9zM/s1024/IMG_9997.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-q6TPufp-QW13nz-pllpIGf4-fvoDJA2R8jxtYKsE8zarWpR45jpkI7aObvACRqSa7aJEn8I2jOrTwo2fab8gg7JFoURg7gMJsFCBB_qii6MHSzgHhrlXRshXTTvD9hLSFzXaTguM5gRkYeXnmCITkY6gDr2hv0s4Z4B7uvzgfSYwljN_2E_Zv5W9D9zM/w480-h640/IMG_9997.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Olga wants to stay home, too. She's snoring and snuggled so tightly against me that her ear is on my keyboard. I keep pressing it every time I need to backspace but she doesn't seem to care.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1UyKeD8n2ouST74EJYNLKFaIfL5bNnEZTJt5f2kZfYiwAAb97F8IZyjuV7GPHnuvqBw4bGoV17plHlGMzKGJE3pHcFWoCzlbZ-4C9CB6GQiCqeqYRcQp_hrgAHubRLCvPENm7dmT9xZCooFuMWPaDcQEIIulvbpAC73U4dWAPCX3FjAWk0qBK7USKKLs/s1024/IMG_9941.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1UyKeD8n2ouST74EJYNLKFaIfL5bNnEZTJt5f2kZfYiwAAb97F8IZyjuV7GPHnuvqBw4bGoV17plHlGMzKGJE3pHcFWoCzlbZ-4C9CB6GQiCqeqYRcQp_hrgAHubRLCvPENm7dmT9xZCooFuMWPaDcQEIIulvbpAC73U4dWAPCX3FjAWk0qBK7USKKLs/w480-h640/IMG_9941.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />The bergenia in the alley is blooming again. This poor plant has been through hell. It survived the repaving of the ground around the gate a couple of years ago, and last year -- as you may remember -- we had a drain blockage that caused wash-water from the kitchen to seep all over the alley. Its roots got saturated with soap and its leaves turned a sickly grayish green, but it didn't die. It is a survivor.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7TxJLIfx1n4HJlIbp7Fqrkn5t8qPz2RDIkkTO4Zw7inkMosZLElaceAxu2Tg3DhlVSPhpSJVmVv_kEf4vvGE19EPo3w8a04CcT8CvlWBXD6itsMZRlphwr8fIKi2C5Wfk6GF2gzqXfIbbcVGIoDYxvXC0IIAGPF71pBCt5hoJpINvlZtxVBhuYP6ry0-/s1024/IMG_9993.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7TxJLIfx1n4HJlIbp7Fqrkn5t8qPz2RDIkkTO4Zw7inkMosZLElaceAxu2Tg3DhlVSPhpSJVmVv_kEf4vvGE19EPo3w8a04CcT8CvlWBXD6itsMZRlphwr8fIKi2C5Wfk6GF2gzqXfIbbcVGIoDYxvXC0IIAGPF71pBCt5hoJpINvlZtxVBhuYP6ry0-/w480-h640/IMG_9993.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Finally, as I walked Olga yesterday before work, we passed my favorite camellia bush -- this candy-striped variety on the housing estate. It had dropped this flower, which was a bit dirty from the ground but otherwise still looked pretty nice.<br /><br />Ah, Saturday!Steve Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11684120060438252945noreply@blogger.com20