Fog

It's "A Foggy Day in London Town," as the old song goes. We woke up this morning to find the sun struggling weakly through a light, steely mist. I think it will burn off before long, but perhaps it's another sign of seasonal change -- like the yellowing tree in the courtyard, which you can barely see to the left in the photo below.


I spent Friday wandering around Marylebone and Fitzrovia, where I wanted to find the base of the BT Tower, a huge '60s-era telecommunications tower that presides over that part of the London skyline. It may be a landmark, but at the base it's nothing much. I had a fun afternoon, though, and the weather was great. I got a cappuccino at Cafe Nero and sat out on a plaza off Tottenham Court Road, watching humanity wander past. I talked briefly to a woman who had the most peculiar-looking puppy -- she said it was a chow-chow, but it looked more like a black bear. Whenever she tried to lead it somewhere, it lay down obstinately.

I met Dave and his coworker Gordon for some beers at a pub in St. Johns Wood that evening. Then, yesterday, we stayed in and watched the sadly mediocre "Star Wars Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith." Only halfway through the movie did I realize I'd already seen it. It's like George Lucas got tired of his initially brilliant saga and just wanted to bring it to an end, as limply and mechanically as possible.

Dave made an excellent dinner last night -- whole sea bream from a fishmonger in Portobello Road, with oyster mushrooms and a baked potato. Yum!