La Mer on Old Compton Street

This (above) was going on around here yesterday. The workmen showed up to begin repairing the exterior wall of our living room, thus hopefully making it more impervious to moisture. We had to move a bunch of stuff out of the room and pull all the furniture away from the walls, which greatly alarmed Olga. For some reason, they insisted on beginning the job by painting the interior, which seems like the thing they should do last, but whatever. It was pouring rain for much of the day so I suppose they couldn't work outside.

Dave and Olga moved their base of operations to the dining room and I got out of dodge entirely. I had an appointment down in Soho.

I took the tube down a bit early, to walk around and do some sightseeing. Carnaby Street is already looking like spring.

Hey, Ms. Moon, did we know there's an entire shop on Carnaby Street devoted to the Rolling Stones? I can't remember if I've seen it before or not. I don't appear to have blogged it, so -- here!

Elsewhere in Soho, in front of a nondescript shopfront, I came across a little floral monument to Steve Bronski of Bronski Beat, who died a month ago. I'm not sure why that location was significant. I remember being introduced to Bronski Beat, the first unabashedly and even loudly and proudly gay pop band in my experience, by friends in the mid-1980s. So this was a poignant find.

And then I wandered down to Old Compton Street for my coffee appointment with blogger John Gray, who was briefly visiting London from Wales. We'd never met face to face, though we'd kicked around the idea before, so it was nice to finally get to see him. We sat in a French place called Cafe Boheme, as a recording of a woman crooning "La Mer" played in the background, and compared notes about the blog world.

John told me I seemed very "cultured." Little did he know that at that very moment I was carrying in my camera bag a card game I'd just bought for Dave called "Name that Bum Hole!" They're flash cards featuring the rear ends of various animals; you're supposed to guess the animal based on, yes, its bum hole. How's that for cultured?! I wish I'd thought to show it to John; he'd have gotten a kick out of it. We did manage to talk about "Ants!" starring Suzanne Somers, which as you know I recently viewed, so he's aware that I'm not all highbrow.

Anyway, we had a great time and John was every bit as warm and authentic as his blog. I only wish I'd also met his bulldog Dorothy and witnessed her toe-nibbling skills firsthand. Maybe next time.

I walked from there back up to Baker Street, where I caught the tube home. On the way I came across this rather provocative graffiti: "I farted in yoga."

I also passed some misinformed lunatic with a megaphone ranting at mask-wearers on the sidewalk on Oxford Street: "Are we living in Guantanamo Bay?! Get those face coverings off! You're damaging your children's health!"

I gave him this expression:

So, anyway, it was a fun day all around and I'm glad to have made a new real-life connection as a result of the blogosphere. (And to have gotten out from under the feet of the workers at the flat!)