Beware the Quince Thieves

The snails seem to have been activated by our recent rain. I found this one about two feet off the ground in our broom plant. I didn't realize snails would eat broom, but something motivated this one to climb up there.

Soon there were TWO of them. The snail network is buzzing! Fortunately brooms are tough and I have no doubt it can stand up to whatever damage these critters do. I left them alone.

I got a call Monday from our energy company, wanting to fit us with a smart meter. Now, I've been around and around with our utilities providers -- water or power or possibly both -- about fitting smart meters, which would transmit automatic meter readings. I'm pretty sure we were told we can't get them. As I recall there's something about our circuit breakers that they couldn't hook a meter to, and because we share a streetside water connection with the flat upstairs we couldn't get a water meter either. So I told the caller all that and she finally relented on the smart meter idea, but she asked me to send a gas meter reading because we hadn't had one in more than a year (!). In fact, she wanted it within 24 hours.

The problem is, when the Russians have parked their gigantic T-34 tank SUV in their parking space in front of the house, I can't get to our gas meter, which is right in the corner under the front steps. And that SUV is pretty much always there when we're home. On Monday evening I knocked on their door and asked when the tank car would next move. "Saturday," Mrs. Russia replied, and I explained that the gas company needed a reading before then. Mr. Russia quite helpfully volunteered to move it right away -- he said he needed to take a reading too, and their meter is also under the steps. So he backed the tank car out and we took our respective readings, and I reported it back to the energy company, and they sent me a revised bill that, if I understand it correctly, means we've actually been docked £30 more than we'd been charged before.

So that's the thanks I get for all that faff.

Oh, and I have another story about the Russians. Remember the quince plant that Dave rescued from the trash area? Well, Mrs. Russia called down to me from their terrace on Sunday morning and said they hadn't actually meant to throw it away. She said she was hiding it (?) behind the trash bins so no one would steal it from the front porch, where it had been sitting next to their door. Now, this seems implausible to me for many reasons, including: A) They have two other plants on the porch and they weren't hiding those, and B) They have a terrace, so why wouldn't they just move it there? Not to mention C) Who the heck would steal their spindly quince? It's been on the porch for at least a year, unbothered.

But of course I simply said, "Oh, sorry, we thought it was trash!" I returned it to her front doorstep right away, and they have now plunked it into the front garden, pot and all. It's just sitting there, a sort of vegetative afterthought, next to the front steps. Apparently they are no longer concerned about anyone stealing it.

A Power Blip

Well, yesterday proved to be unexpectedly eventful. I spent the morning pretty normally, checking out books in the Lower School and covering new books in the main library. (I caught up on all my book covering! Woo hoo!)

But then, shortly after lunch, I was sitting at my desk working on my computer when the room suddenly plunged into darkness and the air conditioner ceased. (My computer stayed on because of its back-up battery.) The power was only out for a second -- maybe even a fraction of a second -- before flicking back on again. I listened to all the devices around me whir and groan back to life and one of my co-workers said, "What was that?!"

It's very unusual for us to lose power. I imagine the guys in the tech department were freaking out about the computer servers. We soon learned that it wasn't just us -- the "blip" affected a large section of the city and threw the tube into disarray, causing service to be suspended on multiple lines. The electricity network said it was due to a transmission fault that was quickly resolved.

Normally I wouldn't have cared about the tube suspension -- I live only slightly more than a mile from school and as you know I usually walk anyway. But as luck would have it, I had a doctor's appointment down in Marylebone after work.

I wound up hoofing it down Finchley Road toward Baker Street and then over to the doctor's office. I passed Madame Tussaud's on the way, and was amused to find this large translucent image of Kate Moss on a partition outside the back door. How weird it must be to be Kate Moss and see your (presumably wax) face looming over the Madame Tussaud's service entrance.

And then we had a surprise rainstorm! The forecast said nothing about rain, but a big black cloud appeared complete with thunder and dumped a surprising amount of water. As you can see above, no one was prepared with an umbrella. I darted into a doorway and waited it out. It was like a Florida rain, very localized with big warm drops, and it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Apparently, I have developed the ability to conjure things up merely by mentioning their absence on my blog. Squirrels? Check! Rain? Check!

(I have noticed lately that I don't have much money. Let's throw that out into the universe and see what happens.)

Anyway, I made it to the doctor's office with minutes to spare, and registered at the front desk before being sent up to the third floor. And even this became surreal, because I got off the elevator and there was no one around. It was a silent hallway lined with doors, and none of them bore my doctor's name. I wondered what to do -- should I just yell for him? I decided instead to go back down to the front desk, which I did, and they called up and confirmed that the nurse was there. Then someone from the front desk accompanied me back upstairs, as if I were a small incompetent child, and he pointed to a sign on one of the doors where suddenly my doctor's name had appeared as if by magic.

"I swear that was not there before!" I said.

And then the nurse opened the door and confirmed that yes, she had in fact just changed the sign. Whew! I am not crazy.

The appointment was uneventful and then I had to get home again. Most of the tube lines were still out and the Jubilee Line, which I usually take, had severe delays. So I decided to take a bus. I walked partway up Baker Street just to get away from the congestion around the tube station, before catching the same numbered bus I rode with Dave from Marble Arch the day before. It carried me all the way up Finchley Road, practically to my doorstep.

Fortunately, the brief, heavy rain fell here too -- Dave said we even had pea-sized hail. The moisture has given the garden a boost and everything looks much happier all of a sudden. As you can see, our yellow peony is now blooming, as well as our clematis. Hopefully we've broken the cycle of dry weather and will now get some more regular precipitation.

We got take-away for dinner -- Dave was exhausted after school and I was too, having hoofed it all over Marylebone in a downpour. We ordered from a barbecue place on Baker Street that was surprisingly good. My only complaint was, no collard greens. What kind of barbecue place has no greens?!

Lunch at Dinner with Brass Band Accompaniment

Dave and I were at Marble Arch yesterday, trying to catch the tube, and we were surprised to find the arch covered by scaffolding. Apparently it's undergoing a big renovation/restoration. It normally looks like this (third picture).

Why were we at Marble Arch? Well, it was the conclusion of a long afternoon! We met up for lunch with one of Dave's friends from the world of band directing, Scott, and his partner Matt, who are visiting London. Scott's here on a sabbatical and Matt just joined him a week ago or so. We ate at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel -- a perfectly natural place for lunch, right?

Dave and I went to Dinner 12 years ago (!) and I remember being impressed by it. We liked it this time as well. We had a table by the big windows overlooking Hyde Park, where I ate adventurous dishes like buttered crab loaf and salmon dressed in champagne. In creating the menu, Blumenthal supposedly drew inspiration from English dishes served hundreds of years ago, but needless to say he's tweaked those ancient recipes quite a bit. I doubt anyone in the early 1700s was serving salmon with champagne gel.

Here was Dave's appetizer -- the "meat fruit," which is just what it says. It's a chicken liver parfait made to look like an orange, down to the tiniest detail. Again, probably a bit more refined than it was in 1500, which is supposedly when the dish was created.

While we sat at the table a marching band went by the windows in full regalia -- red or black jackets and tall plumed hats, accompanied by chaps in old-fashioned bowler hats and medals on their chests. We wondered what on earth was going on, and apparently it was an event known as Cavalry Sunday. There's a video of the band here in case you're interested. I don't see the gents in bowler hats in the video so maybe they came onto the program later. Anyway, that was an interesting surprise.

After lunch we walked across the park, despite massive quantities of blowing tree pollen that made me feel like my face had swollen to twice its normal size. We got to Marble Arch and found the tube station closed, so we wound up taking a bus home, but that was easy enough. There's one that runs from Marble Arch straight up Finchley Road practically to our door.

I gave everything in the garden a good watering yesterday evening, even the grass. I used the sprinkler, which we almost never put out, but we've had no rain in weeks and none is in the forecast. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I ran that sprinkler for probably two hours, moving it around so everything got a good drenching. I'm already hearing talk of drought and a possible hosepipe ban later in the summer because of reduced rainfall, so I figured we'd better water while we can.

Remember how I was lamenting the absence of squirrels in the garden this year? Well, I take it all back. Suddenly they're everywhere, and they're ravenous. Our oriental poppy was all set to bloom, sending up a fat fuzzy bud on a stalk, and I was so excited because it hasn't bloomed in several years. And then yesterday morning I went out and found it decapitated, the bud gnawed on the ground. I suppose, to a squirrel, it looked like some sort of exotic nut. No poppies this year. ☹️

Architecture and Brunch

Yesterday morning we had a gathering at the home of a parent who works closely with our school library. He's on the equivalent of the PTA, in charge of library support. He thought it would be nice to throw an end-of-the-year appreciation brunch for the library staff, which was a really kind thing to do. 

He lives in St. John's Wood, so I walked down there yesterday morning. The brunch started at 10 a.m. and I was a few minutes early, so I decided to take a swing through the Alexandra and Ainsworth Estate, which I've shown you many times on this blog. It's very well known architecturally as a landmark of Brutalist style, designed by Neave Brown in 1968 and built the following decade.

Weather-wise, the day was ideal. I was wearing shorts and sandals and the sky was sunny and clear.

There's a lot of interesting planting at the estate, with colorful flowers spilling over the walls and cordylines, yuccas and palms casting tropical-looking shadows.

Eventually I made my way over to the brunch and stayed about an hour and a half. Most of the "action" took place in the family kitchen/dining area, which unfortunately had a lot of hard surfaces -- marble and granite and the like. I found it quite loud and had a hard time hearing people. I think my ears are just not suited to crowded rooms anymore!

It was fun but I was eager to get back outside and spend some time in the garden. So I soon headed home.

This was the gate into the enclosed courtyard where the parent's townhouse was located. Eye-catching, right? I've actually photographed it before but never from the inside with the light coming through it.

My afternoon was pretty quiet. I got a delivery of compost so I was able to repot one of our hostas, which sprouted some tiny leaves this year but has stubbornly refused to grow. I thought perhaps it needed some fresh soil so we'll see if that does the trick. I also mowed the lawn and did some other routine garden maintenance.

Remember how last year I was battling slugs on my dahlias? Well, this year...

...there is nary a slug to be found. It's been so dry they're just not out and about. The plants are flourishing.

Clowns and Trellises

You may remember I found one of these mysterious "Vote 4 Clowns" stickers in Hackney many months ago. Well, now the stickers have come to me -- this one was on the high street near the West Hampstead tube station. Interpret it as you will.

I have nothing much to report from yesterday's workday. I was busy, mostly covering books. We're buying a ton of stuff for summer reading promotions, and we've got to get all that ready. The paperbacks get covered with a plastic laminate that must be trimmed and fitted, and the hardbacks get a plastic dust-jacket protector. My hands are actually sore from book covering. (Nothing to do with my age!)

Then, walking home, I came across this on the sidewalk:

In case you can't tell, that looks like a couple of pet cages, a patio umbrella, some miscellaneous metal objects and three conical trellises, all abandoned next to a public trash bin. I sent this picture to Dave and said, "Can we use these?"

"The trellises would be cool," he said.

"OK, I'll grab the two big ones," I wrote back.

"The number of times I've heard you say that!" he said. And only when that comment got laughs from multiple people did I realize that I'd accidentally started this entire exchange in a family chat involving Dave's sister, nephew, niece and her husband, and possibly several others. Oops.

Anyway, I brought the trellises home, where they are momentarily sitting in our front hallway. Incidentally, I also found the chair, the window and the rocking horse discarded on the street over a period of years.

I put our garden cam back out the other day after several months of absence. Just thought I'd check up on the critters and see what's happening out there. Here's a condensed version of the result -- two cats, a fox and Olga, vigorously scratching around after probably having done her business, fortunately off-camera. Oh, and any concerns I had about the absence of squirrels were clearly unwarranted, because I have about a million squirrel clips. (I included one of a squirrel dirt-bath.)

I don't love the way that first cat is gazing into the trees, and then climbing into them. That spells bad news for our birds. I thought fox urine was supposed to deter other animals, but clearly the cats aren't worried!

Grooviness in the Mail

I got a pleasant surprise last night when I got home from work and found a compact little package waiting for me on the hall table. I hadn't ordered anything so I was mystified what it could be, until I saw that it came from Blogger Linda Sue in Washington state. Then I knew right away.

Linda Sue had blogged about a vintage Peter Max bedsheet that she found in her piles of fabric, and I expressed enthusiasm. I love Peter Max and his very '70s vibe. So Linda Sue put the sheet in the mail and voila! I spread it out on the floor to take a picture, and Olga immediately wandered up to take possession. (But don't worry, Linda Sue -- it won't become her new pink blanket!)

The sheet is made by Mohawk and the artwork, according to the packaging shown in this Pinterest post, is called "Olympic Flier 2000" from 1971. Here are a couple of eBay auctions for similar sheets, though I can't imagine they can really get those kinds of prices for them.

Anyway, it is now safely tucked into a cabinet until I decide what to do with it.

And then Dave said, "I have another surprise for you, at the side of the house." I looked and found this straggly quince in a pot. It belonged to the Russians upstairs -- they had it on their terrace and then on their front porch, but Dave found it in the trash area when he put the bins out yesterday. Apparently they decided to throw it out. So we have adopted it.

I'm not sure yet where we'll put it but we'll find a place. It has a copper slug ring around the base, even though it's not a very slug-prone plant; I'll certainly find a use for that too.

Our blanket flower (Gaillardia) is bursting into springtime bloom, and I've put it on the front porch once again.

Tattered Tail

This magpie has been coming around our bird feeder lately. Look at that poor thing's tail! It looks like someone put it through a blender. I think it must be fighting with other birds over territory or something like that -- maybe mating? Some birds look straggly when they're molting, but those don't look like new feathers to me. Not that I am any kind of an expert.

Here's a better picture of the whole bird.

According to Google's AI Overview search feature, "A tattered or damaged magpie tail can be an indicator of several things, including sexual maturity, potential mating success, and even social status within the flock. Magpies, especially hens during breeding season, may show tail damage as part of their reproductive behavior or due to competition for resources."

Now, that's from AI, so who knows if it's true, but it sounds credible and I can't be bothered to dig further. Some journalist I am.

Speaking of birds, and their distant ancestors, remember the Dinosaur Easter book? Well, I was covering new books yesterday for our Lower School library, and look what crossed my desk:

Apparently there's a whole line of these books featuring the dinosaurs on various holidays or doing various things -- like, in this case, watering a tree, picking up litter and recycling. Oh, the irony of having extinct creatures celebrating Earth Day!

Mornings have been really cold here the last few days. Lows have been in the low 40s (F) and we've even put the heat back on for a quick blast while we're getting ready for work (and without clothes in the bathroom). I hate running the heat at this time of year, compared to Dave, who will crank it up at the slightest chilly draft. But even I see the benefit at the moment.

Blood Sky

One of our hellebores has a rather dramatic infestation of aphids. It's OK, because the flowers are spent and the plant is dying back for summer anyway. The Royal Horticultural Society advises us to tolerate aphids: "You don’t have to kill or control them. They are part of the biodiversity of gardens and a vital food source for other wildlife." I've picked them off plants by hand in the past (that's a nice way of saying I squashed them) but the ones on the hellebore are safe to live their lives for the next month, which is the average life span of an aphid. (I had to look it up -- that's longer than I expected!)

Last night on the way home from work I bought some petunias. Remember the "Night Sky" petunias I like and have planted in previous years? Well, I didn't see those, but I did see these, which are basically the red equivalent. I told Dave we should call them "Blood Sky" and I laughed so hard that he finally said: "Why is that funny?"

Killjoy.

Here was Olga on our walk yesterday morning, posing by some campanula at the Buckingham Mansions around the corner. This reminds me of the photos I took of Olga in Hampstead over a period of a few years, outside the Malaysian high commissioner's residence. She can't walk that far anymore so I'm glad I found a closer location for a similarly-themed floral portrait!

Updates from the Garden

Here's some of what's happening in the garden at this time of year.

The pendulous little flowers of the Solomon's seal (above) are starting to open...

...as is Dave's clematis. (I don't know why I'm calling it Dave's, except that he initially bought it. It's looking a bit pale these days. I think it needs feeding and some TLC.)

The primrose in the hanging basket is still blooming away.

We have tons of bluebells, including this one in the middle of the lawn. (Fortunately it's in the area we don't mow, in honor of No-Mow May.) That's one of our big ol' teasels in the background.

The brook thistles are starting to emerge -- they'll get bigger and fluffier as they fully open.

And finally, the new fiddleheads on the tree fern are unfurling, looking, well, just like a fiddlehead.

As you can probably tell from the photos, I didn't leave the house or garden at all yesterday, except to walk the dog in the morning. I just read and relaxed. The Russians didn't do any construction (thank God) and I was able to get through another New Yorker and get more or less caught up in blogland.

We also sorted out plans for the summer. I reserved a week in Pevensey Bay at the cottage where we've stayed twice before. We didn't feel like we could take a long or international trip because that would mean leaving Olga, so for now we're staying domestic. To be honest, even getting her to Pevensey may be quite an undertaking. Thank goodness the trains go almost straight there.

Drill, Baby, Drill

That's our first rose of the season -- a miniature one that Dave planted by the birdbath. It's pretty when it first comes out but the bush tends to lose its leaves and look pretty pathetic by the time autumn rolls around. At least we can enjoy it for now.

Here's one thing we're not enjoying:

Yes, that's our neighbors, the Russians, doing something upstairs. What, I cannot imagine. How could there be a single square foot of their apartment that has not been sanded, refinished and buffed to perfection? How could there still be a single nail out of place, a single rough edge?

"It's like we live in the mouth of some guy who's always at the dentist," said Dave.

They should see our apartment. They'd be horrified. We're pretty sure they're already horrified by the garden, because as you know we do let nature take its course to a certain extent. They would turn it into a tennis court, guaranteed.

We're supposed to have a renovation of our own some time this summer, supposedly, though we've heard nothing about it for months. The landlords want to spiff up the living room, where we have a crack running across the ceiling as well as some peeling paint. This was identified as a need in our flat inspection several months ago. It's all cosmetic and not something I'm particularly concerned about, so I'm not keeping my finger on the pulse of every new development.

I did my best to rein in our household chaos yesterday, though, cleaning floors and bathrooms and taking care of all the houseplants. I watered everything, including the orchids, so we are set now for another week.

I'm also catching up on some New Yorkers, reading about topics as wide and varied as why the Democrats lost young men to Trump and Ronan Farrow's investigation into how a serial rapist and child pornographer in Tennessee managed to get away with his crimes for so long. (Hint: The police weren't trying very hard to catch him.) It's like a Harlan Coben novel come to life.

Last night we found two new shows that look promising. One is the Netflix remake of "The Four Seasons," the Alan Alda movie of 1981, now in half-hour installments and featuring Steve Carrell and Tina Fey, among others. I remember seeing the Alda movie about 40 years ago, but of course I was a teenager then, so it wouldn't resonate with me the same way it might now, when I and the characters are all middle-aged. The other is called "Black Snow," an Australian show about a true-crime investigator, now on the BBC iPlayer. We've only seen the first episode but it grabbed us!

Ladywell and Some Retro Art

After spending the morning at home, reading (and finishing) my most recent book, I did get out and walk a bit yesterday in South London. I took the train to Catford Bridge and walked north through Ladywell Fields, a park positively carpeted in cow parsley at this time of year.

This is not a part of London I know well. But I became interested in visiting after reading an article in The Guardian about an artist named William Mitchell, and some of his mid-century murals. The main subject of the article was a mural located in a building in Blackheath that was being demolished, and the artwork was saved from demolition by the Heritage of London Trust. But it incidentally mentioned two more Mitchell murals that seemed more accessible, in the front entranceways of some council housing blocks near Ladywell.

So I thought I'd go see those.

Along the way I passed the historic Ladywell Water Tower, which was originally built to pump water for a Victorian workhouse for older poor people. (What a way to spend retirement!) The workhouse included a laundry so it probably needed a lot of water. Although most of the workhouse buildings are gone now, the tower still stands and has been converted into flats. You can take a video tour of one here.

Finally I reached Foxborough Gardens, where the two Mitchell murals are located. Above is one of them. Apparently the colorful paint job wasn't part of the original installation, and was added in the ensuing decades. There's an effort underway to preserve and restore these murals, both installed in 1960.

Here's the other one, which as you can see is very different. It's made of hundreds of pieces of wood taken from old furniture, banisters and other items. Over the years it has been badly weathered and parts have been damaged. A closer look reveals birds, a fountain, a castle, flowers and other decorative elements.

It's interesting that Mitchell chose to create such dramatically different murals for two adjacent buildings. I wonder if he did the wood one first and it took a lot of time, and he decided to do the second more expeditiously? Maybe he had a deadline to meet. Or maybe he simply wanted variety. Who knows.

After checking out the murals I made my way to Ladywell train station and back home again. It was a relatively short walk -- just two miles or so. But it felt good to get out and see something new. Apparently Mitchell created about 100 public artworks during his lifetime -- he died in 2020 -- and some of them have been given protected landmark status. So I'll have to keep an eye out for more!

Random Pictures and Vague Political Thoughts

Here's our bleeding heart, or Dicentra, which managed to squeak out one solitary little heart this year. That's OK -- it's better than I thought we might get. The plant is about ten years old and I'm not sure if it doesn't like its location or what, but in recent years it has not been very enthusiastic. So I'm happy with a single heart!

As I was walking Olga two mornings ago, I found this little foam cow (with sunglasses!) where Olga was sniffing around some rubbish on the sidewalk. I did a Google image search and it turns out to be a game piece for a game called "Herd Mentality: Moosic and Moovies." I don't know where the rest of the game went, but I rescued the cow, who now sits on our windowsill next to my dog-chewed penguin. It's my own golden calf, but I'm not planning to worship it.

One of our orchids is performing at peak level at the moment -- this yellow/green one always sends up a big cluster of flowers.

I am so glad it's the weekend. Despite our day off on Wednesday, it seemed like a long week. And Monday is a bank holiday, so we get a three-day weekend. Woo hoo! We have no plans, though I may take a walk somewhere.

I've been mulling over two concepts related to our current political situation, particularly in the United States. One, that some of our current political mood is fallout from George W. Bush's misguided military campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. Those wars left us with many traumatized veterans and other former military and their families, many of whom for some reason see Trump as an anti-war candidate and president. It seems safe to say that Trump has a lot of support from military and former military, and I think Bush's wars helped mobilize those voters to think and vote the way they do.

Two, in general, our global society seems to be emphasizing and enhancing divisions between people. Increased nationalism, Brexit in the UK, partisanship, economic tariffs, crackdowns on immigrants and immigration, blaming and finger-pointing in general -- all of this draws lines and barriers between human beings, which in my opinion is the exact opposite of what we need. We should be eliminating barriers, not erecting them. We need fewer walls and fences, both physically and psychologically. Many people seem very intent on saving and preserving what they believe is under threat, and walls and barriers are a fear-based reaction to that kind of thinking -- but the fact is, things change all the time, and life requires openness to change. This isn't really a practical solution or even a particularly innovative thought, but it's where my mind is in these trying times.

I realize that I think this way partly because I can afford to. I'm relatively financially comfortable, I don't have children, I and my family members are not homeless or addicted to Fentanyl, and maybe I'd feel less open if any of those things were different. Change is scary, and openness to change is scary, but I think it's the only way forward in a global society that is guaranteed to do nothing but change.

Azaleas

It's azalea time in our garden. The one above is my favorite -- I love that color. It's in a part of the flowerbed that the dog loves to bulldoze through and every year I'm afraid that she's trampled it, but somehow it always survives.

I'm not sure whether this is an azalea or a rhododendron, but it's an unusual color. The flowers always look slightly crinkly.

And then there's this one, which we keep in a pot in one of the flowerbeds. We got it at the beginning of our first pandemic lockdown, when the local garden center was closing and giving away its plants, and it always has two distinctly different flowers -- some deep pink and some with white edges. I think it may actually be two plants. Believe it or not, it's hard to tell. This may be its best blooming year so far.

I had to go to the hospital yesterday morning for a routine blood test. My phlebotomist was from South Asia somewhere and he was very talkative. He told me that although no one likes needles, "this pain is from God," whatever that means. I suppose because it serves a positive purpose? Not very comforting from my perspective, but he was skilled with the needle and didn't cause much pain, hamdu'llah.

He was also very intrigued by the spelling of my name (Stephen), and whether it was pronounced "steffen" or "steven." I told him it was steven and he asked whether my parents or my teacher gave it to me. I said my parents, obviously, and he said in his country the teachers sometimes determine the spelling of a student's name, because the students and their families are illiterate. When the kid says his name, the teacher writes it down and BOOM, that's how it's spelled.

All my life I have been faced with the steffen-vs-steven question. When I was a kid, especially, none of my classmates could fathom why my name was spelled with a PH but pronounced like a V. Even my teachers were never sure. Hence, my shortening it to Steve. My mother never warmed to the shorter version and called me Stephen all her life, as do all of my immediate family, but to everyone else I'm Steve. Apparently I should sign up for blood tests as Steve too!

Biometric

Well, Dave and I got our biometric appointment out of the way. We took the tube down to Clerkenwell late yesterday morning and got there about half an hour early -- because in addition to being fearful of forgetting some crucial document, I was also fearful of being late. We had coffee at a Costa caddy-corner to this ornate pub. Don't you love those caryatids on the top floor, and all the other sculptural elements? I think the whole place is closed and undergoing some sort of renovation. There's actually a workman standing in the middle floor's center windows, working on the window frame.

At the appointed time we went to the immigration processing center, and stood in a line, and then stood in another line, and then went to a counter where we handed our passports to a guy who scanned every page. Then we went to a machine that took our picture and our fingerprints. And then we were done. I thought I was supposed to submit all the paper documents that went with our application and I brought them with me but they didn't ask for those at all -- I guess the scans I'd sent them earlier were sufficient.

And now we wait.

After the appointment, we wanted to have some kind of special lunch, so we wandered through scenic Charterhouse Square and found a little French restaurant called Le Cafe du Marche. It was perfect. We wanted to sit outside because the weather was glorious, but alas, there was only one outside table and it was reserved. But indoors was nice too, and I had a blue-potato-and-broccoli salad and John Dory with vegetables, and a bright orange Aperol spritz. (OK, two Aperol spritzes.) Dave had a seafood soup and coquelet, or spring chicken.

Before any of that happened, I sat with the dog in the garden, reading. Above you'll see some of her antics in a condensed version of our morning.

Back to work today!

Nomad Bees and a Big Ol' Fire

I found this little critter on a dandelion in our lawn a few days ago. At first I thought it was a hoverfly or perhaps some kind of wasp, but I think it's actually a nomad bee. These are parasitic bees that lay their eggs in the nests of other bees. Not a very nice idea, but hey, "nature red in tooth and claw," right?

Here it is from another angle. By the way, did you know that a fluffy head of dandelion seeds is called a "clock"? I've never heard that term but came across it when I was trying to figure out the bug. Maybe it's a British thing.

Dave and I are off work today so we can attend our biometric appointment for citizenship. I have no idea what to expect. I think we're basically just showing up, getting our fingerprints taken and handing over paperwork (which I've already submitted electronically). There won't be any decision today but it's the final step before we wait to hear back and then attend a swearing-in ceremony, which is when everything becomes official. That will be the big day, but Dave and I decided to take today off anyway. The appointment is in the City right in the middle of the day, so there was no point trying to work a few hours on either end.

Yesterday, while walking the dog (who recovered perfectly well from her morning unsteadiness, perhaps just a problem with old muscles and joints), I was alarmed to see this:

That's a terrible video, because I took it while holding the dog's leash and walking, but that is a lot of dark smoke pouring into the sky. My blood ran cold when I saw it because it immediately brought to mind 9/11. Yesterday was the same type of cool, spectacularly clear morning as on 9/11, and I suppose anyone who was in New York that day (like me) can never forget the plume of smoke in the otherwise crystal-blue sky. I came inside to check the news and BBC London had nothing on its web site (yet), so I figured it couldn't be anything too disastrous. I soon found a tweet from the London Fire Brigade attributing it to an electrical substation fire in Maida Vale.

As you can see here, it eventually did make the news -- it was quite a visible event and the smoke was incredible. Fortunately I was upwind of it. Later that morning we were at school as usual about half a mile away and our power and air quality were unaffected (as far as I could tell).

Here's an unusual sticker I found on my walk to work. Since that's a stadium in the lower shot I knew it had to be about football, but I don't read German so I hadn't a clue what it said. According to Google, it translates to, "Nowhere will you find more scum and depravity gathered than here." That's Hamburg's Volksparkstadion, so clearly someone is not a Hamburg fan, but I have no idea who produced the sticker. The Star Wars theme gave me a chuckle, though.