Olga Gets a Long, Long Walk

Yesterday I relieved my dog-owner guilt tenfold. I took Olga with me on a photography walk through Hampstead -- first I took her to the Heath, where she ran free and chased her Kong and wore herself out, and then we walked several streets on the south and southwest sides of the Heath for Bleeding London.

We were out for at least three hours, and we'd been out more than an hour earlier that morning in another area northwest of where we live, so all in all Olga got in some serious walking yesterday. Which is why she's been asleep ever since.

Is it possible to walk a dog too much?

Anyway, as you can see, she was happy to come along, and she never showed any desire to go home. I got some good shots to boot, so all in all, a good day.

Here's a nasturtium I rooted from a cutting I found lying on Hampstead Heath several weeks ago. (Part of a discarded bouquet, I think.) It's turned into a full-fledged plant and it's bloomed several times. I love nasturtiums but in the states -- specifically in Florida -- I was never able to grow them. Here they grow like weeds!

Dave talked to our former next-door neighbor, Chris, from Notting Hill yesterday. Chris said he spoke to our former landlord, who was staying in our old flat on a visit from the states. Apparently they're no longer selling the flat (which is weird, because it's still listed) and they're looking to rent it again, as I'd heard at school not too long ago. Dave and I agreed that we're happy we were forced to move, because we like the place we're in so much better -- but strange that our landlords have changed their mind about selling. My guess is they haven't been able to get the outrageous price they're asking.

On a related note, I read an interesting article yesterday in the New York Times about the proliferation of houseboats in London, as an alternative to the high cost of housing. Apparently house prices in London have increased 20 percent so far this year! (We will never be able to buy anything.) I once suggested to Dave that we look into living on a boat, but he promptly vetoed that idea. (Now that I've seen him at work in the garden I understand why!) Turns out there are too many boats anyway, and not enough berths.

Last night we watched two more episodes of "The Honourable Woman," a BBC spy drama about Israel and Palestine starring Maggie Gyllenhaal. We missed its broadcast and it's no longer on the iPlayer, so we have to buy each episode via iTunes, and they're released episodically. (Maybe it's being broadcast in the states now?) Anyway, it's a great show. A little confusing in that kind of "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" way, where you think you might just be able to wrap your brain around it, and you never quite do -- at least, I never quite do -- but you enjoy it anyway. (How's that for an endorsement?)

In Lieu of Boredom, Some Pictures

Yesterday was just stultifyingly boring. The library was quiet, and Dave went out with some coworkers after school so I came home, ate leftovers and spent the evening with the dog. Which was perfect company for a Friday night, truth be told.

Rather than put you through the tedium, here's an assortment of random fun photos.

First, a now-irrelevant piece of graffiti from a Shoreditch rooftop, taken while I was at last week's RPS licenture event.

I took this especially for my bike-loving brother. I'm not sure what could have happened to this bike to warp it so horribly while it was parked. Unless some really pissed person (in either the British or the American sense) jumped up and down on it.

If we've got to have an overabundance of real estate agencies avalanching (is that a verb?) our neighborhood, it helps if they have cute storefronts.

Thank goodness for the sunroof!

An amusing wine label. The wine's not bad either.

I found this little guy on a recent walk. He looks handmade. A crab, perhaps? I left him on a wall next to the sidewalk in case someone came back looking for him. (Olga would just destroy him, in about half a second.)

And finally, a curious bottle cap that I found on one of my walks. Magnum with "vigorton" is apparently a fortified Jamaican wine that supposedly stimulates sexual excitement -- hence the image of the couple making out. Apparently the label is even more explicit. The wine has a roughly 17 percent alcohol content and has run afoul of alcohol regulators for its marketing techniques. Who knew?

Much Ado About Shelving

Well, the shelf thing worked out fine after all.

I lay in bed and worried about it Wednesday night -- how was I going to get an early afternoon delivery at home and help teach a 1:30 p.m. class about library resources at school? And then yesterday morning the delivery people called me at 10:20 a.m. and said they'd be at my house in half an hour, which was considerably earlier than their original estimate. I zoomed home from school, met them, ate lunch, played with the dog and went back in time for the class.

Whew!

I guess it shows the futility of getting worked up about a conflict that may not happen. For once I am praising the inaccuracy of delivery people.

I put the shelves together last night as Dave made dinner, and they worked out well. We got them from Made.com, and although as I said I wasn't thrilled with the fact that they took two months to arrive, they seem well-made and solid.

Better yet, our books are finally out of boxes, the boxes have been put out with the recycling and our dining room looks more finished. Maybe we'll use it more now, rather than just glancing in as we pass by on our way out the front door. A squatter could set up house in there and we wouldn't know it for a week.

(Top photo: When we have actual sunshine, which is getting rarer at this time of year, we get great long autumnal shadows. There's a girl in the bottom right window, but I was zoomed out pretty far so you can barely see her.)

Free Grapefruit, and Inopportune Deliveries

The other day, as I was walking in Marylebone, I found two grapefruit lying in the street. More or less in the gutter, to be completely accurate. I was in an area where produce vendors store their carts and wares overnight in little garages. There were a couple of other grapefruit lying nearby, squashed by a passing car, and some tomatoes, too.

I debated the wisdom of picking up the intact grapefruit. They were lying in the street, after all. But they looked clean and fresh, so I grabbed them and put them in my bag. I brought them home, washed them, and ate one yesterday for breakfast. It was fine. I did not die. I decided I'd made a pretty good find, especially in this cold land where free grapefruit are not normally an option!

Now I'm wrestling with how to handle a different silly problem.

Dave and I ordered some bookshelves about two months ago, to replace the built-in shelves that we lost when we left our Notting Hill flat. (All our books are still in boxes in the dining room!) Well, these shelves have been slow in coming. Apparently they're made to order, so it takes a while. Finally, a few days ago, I learned that they're supposed to be delivered today, between noon and 3 p.m. I'm supposed to get at least a half-hour's notice before the delivery people arrive, enabling me to race home and intercept them.

On any normal day I would be able to get away from work. But today, wouldn't you know, I have to help a class of sixth graders in the library at 1:30 p.m.! And Dave is teaching then, too. So if the shelves come around that time, we're screwed. I can't really do anything about this problem except hope that by some miracle, the schedule works out and the shelves come earlier or later.

(Photo: Outside Lord's Cricket Ground, yesterday.)

The Mystery Roses

I mentioned before that we hadn't seen blooms on some of the rose bushes in our garden -- particularly those formerly buried in the shadows of the surrounding foliage. Here are some of the new flowers.

This velvety red rose was once so far back in the hedge that it not only hadn't flowered, it didn't even have leaves! When we removed all the overgrowth it sent out new shoots and finally, last week, offered up this amazing deep red blossom.

This one, near Dave's firespikes, came up from the roots -- a little pink tea rose.

This one might be our favorite. It's a bright orange-red, with a simple blossom (a single, I suppose, as opposed to a double or triple). It's out in the middle of the yard but only recently worked up the energy to bloom.

And finally, we have a white one. This one was blooming when we first moved in, so I knew it was white, but then one of the branches got knocked off during our big yard cleanup. It regrew and sent out new flowers last week, like bright surveyor's flags near ground level.

All these bushes are in need of pruning and shaping. We still haven't heard any more from the landlord about sending a gardener to do the work. I suppose I should check on that.

I haven't seen any more of the large rose sawfly caterpillars that completely denuded one of our bushes and part of a few others. I killed those little devils by hand (thank god for gardening gloves) and they have not returned.

I've never been a huge fan of roses, which always seemed fussy and overdramatic to me. I'd much rather have some simple wildflowers. But now that we have them in our yard I've come to appreciate them more! And of course England has the stereotypically rose-friendly climate -- we don't have to do much to them. They just grow and do their thing.

Seven Londoners

I've stacked up quite a few portraits of people I've encountered on my walks. Here are some of them.

This woman was riding that bike at top speed on a residential street, looking like she just got off work and was late, late for a very important date. She passed me and I missed the shot, but then she turned around and came back the other way. She laughed when she saw me snap her picture.

I love the blue theme in this photo. This woman chatted me up and asked where I was from -- she told me I had a "very broad" accent, which sounds vaguely insulting. Then she asked me for a pound. I gave it to her.

Purple, purple everywhere!

A hunky window washer outside the RPS photo meeting on Sunday.

Looks like someone is having one of those days. Or weeks. Or months.

I took several shots of this woman as she walked toward me near Brent Cross on Saturday. I thanked her when she passed me. She just chuckled. I'm sure she thought I was crazy.

Last night, near Kentish Town, this man was enjoying the evening with his dog -- in kind of a Michael Jackson way.

Photo Inspiration (or Intimidation?)

Poor Dave -- I've barely seen him this weekend. I was out all day on Saturday doing photography and then taking the dog to Fortune Green and the Hampstead Cemetery, and I spent yesterday in Shoreditch at an event for the Royal Photographic Society. Fortunately Dave hasn't minded. He just did his thing, nesting at home, gardening and working on band music.

The RPS event was interesting -- it was a "licenture" event, in which photographers apply to show a panel of judges a portfolio of 10 images. The judges critique the images and decide whether to approve the applicant for licenture, a mark of distinction from the society.

I didn't apply -- I was just there as an observer. But it was interesting to see what people submit and how the judges reacted. It was a bit terrifying, actually. The slightest flaw or blemish -- a sky with too much or too little detail, an incorrect focal point or an inattentive crop job -- could sink the whole portfolio. I kept thinking about all the little flaws I notice but tolerate in my own work. Not to mention the printing! I haven't the foggiest idea how to print a photo to a professional standard.

I suppose I really ought to invest in Photoshop and shoot in RAW and bump things up to the next level. It just sounds expensive. 

I did feel that there was a tendency toward "pretty" photos -- bees on flowers and that kind of thing. No one was shooting cluttery storefronts and homeless people and shabby houses and filthy alleys. Were I to apply, I might have an advantage in being somewhat distinct in my subject matter! (Or would that be a disadvantage?!)

So, anyway, yes, it was a very educational day. I saw a few other Bleeding Londoners there, too. It's hard to believe we have only slightly more than a month left on this project, and we still have so much left to do! By the end of October I am going to need a new pair of shoes.

(Photo: A cafe on Baker Street, yesterday morning. I love the sign on the front: "What's this? The Sherlock Holmes food and beverages!" Holmes' office was on Baker Street in the Arthur Conan Doyle stories -- but did he appreciate a croissant?)