Valuation Day

I passed this house in Golders Green yesterday while walking up to the antique dealer's "Valuation Day" event. By my count, there are 15 rubbish bins and six shopping carts in that front garden, plus a weird section of wooden fence that's not attached to anything except a tree, and lots of assorted bags of debris. Quite a display!

The "Valuation Day" was interesting and somewhat successful. I took a wristwatch and a silver coin belonging to Dave, and the dealer bought the coin for exactly what my earlier Internet research had determined it was worth. He made an offer on the watch, but we didn't think it was enough, so we kept that -- even though Dave never wears a watch and it hasn't seen the light of day for as long as I've known him.

Best of all, the dealer also bought that box of clay pipes I found on the sidewalk back in February. He gave me £20 for all of them, which was fine by me, considering they cost me nothing. I thought they were cool but I didn't really want them. Now they're back in the hands of someone whose business is antiquities and who will properly appreciate them. I wish I'd also thought to take that weird silver vase (or whatever it is) I found years ago.

Anyway, it was good to get out and walk. The event was held at a hotel almost three miles away, and I walked there and back, so I got a fair amount of exercise.

I passed this groovy dry-cleaners' sign on the way. Why is it that dry cleaners and laundromats (or launderettes as they're called here) always seem so retro?

Otherwise, yesterday was pretty chill. I read some in the afternoon -- remember how I'm trying to read all the Newbery medal winners? Well, I'm working on the most recent one, "When You Trap a Tiger," just to make even a tiny bit of progress over the summer. I still have about a third of the list to go and I don't want to stall out now, but I probably won't get back to reading Newbery books in earnest until school begins again in a few weeks.

Oh, a sad note. Someone -- I assume from the council -- finally came and cut down the once-viney tree, which did indeed die. I feel so terrible about that situation. I still can't understand what killed it. Taking that vine away shouldn't have hurt it, unless it was already weakened, either by the burden of the vine itself or in some other way. (There was some street construction beneath it just before I removed the vine, and perhaps that had damaged the roots?) I've even wondered if someone unhappy with my project deliberately killed it with an herbicide. Maybe they didn't like me coming around and paying attention to it. But that seems a little paranoid.

Anyway, I do feel guilty, and I've learned my lesson. Next time I'll think twice before involving myself unasked in something like that. It sounds extreme but I think it will literally bother me for the rest of my life.

I've been on a Faye Dunaway movie kick the last couple of nights: "Three Days of the Condor," which was good, and "The Eyes of Laura Mars," which was less so. I should really watch "Mommie Dearest" again. I haven't seen it in years and I remember it being a hoot.