Pigeons and Patriotism

I took a walk past West End Green yesterday afternoon and saw this well-dressed woman being positively mobbed by pigeons. She must have been carrying food, because not only were they around her, they were on her -- perched on her arms and eating from her hands.

She doesn't seem at all concerned about bird flu, which would be my first thought. I am scrupulous about washing my hands after putting food in the bird feeders. Wild birds are beautiful, and I love them, but they're fairly filthy.

I took this walk after a long morning of more media management! I posted all the Australia photos on Flickr, where they are now in their own album, organized and annotated as well as I could manage. You can see them here. That was a fun project, so thanks again to the mysterious C. for enabling it.

I also read more of "The Old Curiosity Shop," but not as much as I'd hoped. And I helped Dave splice together a video for a job application -- one that would not require us to leave London. He's applying for an evening job with a local community band, as a sort of secondary gig. (He wants something new to stretch his artistic muscles.)

Finally, about 2 p.m., I felt like I had to get out of the house. I hadn't been for a photo walk in a while, even locally, so I grabbed my big camera and went out for an hour or so. I got the shots above, and then the battery promptly died. Sigh. I wound up taking other pictures on my phone.

I found this framed photo sitting on someone's garden wall next to their bins -- an idyllic tropical beach scene, complete with driftwood and thatched shacks. It's a nice picture but the whole thing was sopping wet. I considered trying to rescue the clip frame, but the clips were rusty and I was sure the back would warp as it dried. So I left it behind.

I walked through the cemetery, which made me a little sad because I can't help picturing Olga on all the paths, romping through the grass. What I wouldn't give to have her with me again.

I noticed the grave above, bedecked with pictures and flowers. It's the grave of Darrell Figgis, an Irish patriot, revolutionary, writer and publisher who died in 1925. I'd never heard of Figgis, who had a busy and ultimately tragic short life. Apparently his grave was "rediscovered" in 2008, according to his Wikipedia page. My guess, knowing Hampstead Cemetery, is that it was overgrown with brush before that (as many graves there still are).

In the evening, Dave video-chatted with his friend Annie back in Michigan (hi Annie!) and his parents. And after watering all the houseplants, I lugged the citrus tree into the living room to prepare for this week's freezing temperatures. I spent only slightly less time on plant management than I did on media this weekend!