An Outing and Some Memories

Today is the birthday of my childhood friend Theresa, who would have been 60 this year. I've mentioned Theresa several times on this blog -- she lived down the street where I grew up and was one of my earliest friends. I have many good memories of playing at her house, learning about science from her biology professor father, exploring the woods and swamps, and getting up to mischief like shooting BB guns at floating glass jars in a neighborhood pond that was rumored to be bottomless. Theresa died last year, but just as we always remember our parent's birthdays and other dates that were significant when we were children, I will never forget that this is her birthday.

Dave and I spent yesterday morning at home, me washing dog blankets and reading, Dave on his computer. Finally I suggested we take the dog out for an adventure, so after lunch we leashed up Bailey and walked to Hampstead Heath.

Getting Dave to walk that far is a minor miracle -- he isn't a huge fan of walking in general -- but we had a good time and he got a chance to see Bailey on her long lead and how she behaves in the "wild." She was a good dog, for the most part. I know I've said this before, but she's gradually becoming less reactive to other dogs as she feels more secure with us. We still can't let her get nose-to-nose with them, but at least she doesn't bark and snarl when they pass.

We walked to Golders Green Park, where we sat at one of these picnic tables and had coffee. (Well, Bailey didn't have coffee, but she did have some of our bread-and-raisin pudding.) She's very concerned in the photo above because Dave has walked away from us -- you can see him in the distance, returning.

The coffee break wasn't exactly relaxing, because there's a fair amount of dog management involved in keeping her nearby and under control, but we enjoyed our walk anyway, and the main thing is...

...it tired her out. Happiness is a tired dog.

Last night we watched "Deep Impact," at Dave's suggestion. We are doing a whole lot of nothing significant with our holiday weekend! (Today is a bank holiday so Dave is off work.)

Rain and Not Much Else

It rained off and on all day yesterday -- another 3.4 mm, giving us 10 mm so far for the month. (About 50 mm is average for August.) So we're still behind the curve but we're getting some moisture, and there's more to come this week supposedly.

Bailey and I actually got caught in the rain on our afternoon walk, something so unexpected that I didn't even think to bring an umbrella. We had to wait a few seconds beneath a shop awning until it slacked enough to keep going. The plants are happy, though the rain is beating up some of the older flowers like the Iron-in-the-Fire dahlia above.

Here's the whole garden from the back door. It looks greener in the picture than it really does, mainly because you can't see all the brown grass. But even this little bit of rain has freshened things up.

Otherwise I don't have much to say about yesterday. I read more of "Our Evenings" and walked the dog, did some laundry and some minor cleaning, and we watched "Titanic" in the afternoon (a good rainy day movie). And honestly, that was pretty much the extent of my activities. Ho hum!

In the evening I had a conversation with my siblings about the continued dispersal of my stepmother's estate. It just goes on and on.

A Caterpillar and Not Much Else

A mural at the Hampstead School

A pretty quiet day yesterday. Bailey and I stayed home and I read the first 130 pages or so of "Our Evenings" by Alan Hollinghurst, which I'm slowly warming to. I've loved Hollinghurst's past books, but this one is taking me a little longer to get into. I think it's about to get interesting, though.

In the afternoon I walked Bailey through the cemetery and up into Cricklewood.

I found this weird little caterpillar crawling around on a cemetery bench. It's the larvae of the pale tussock moth (Calliteara pudibunda), which I did not know until I got home and looked it up. This struck a memory chord and I realized I'd seen tussock moth caterpillars in Florida several years ago -- a different species. They're not even the same genus, apparently, so I'm not sure how closely related they are.

We found a community open space up in Cricklewood where I'd never been before, and I was impressed by the common yarrow (Achillea) growing amid the dry, dead grass. I've seen it blooming in the cemetery too -- it doesn't seem fazed by the incredibly dry summer. Bailey even posed for me momentarily off the leash! (Or with me not holding the leash, anyway.)

On the way home we passed the vintage Ford Galaxie that I've written about a couple of times before. It's been spruced up with a nice new paint job.

Last night we had a friend, Mark, come over for some drinks after work. Martini time! (For me, anyway. Mark stuck with Budweiser. He likes his watery American beer.)

Phantom Babies

Well, we did get rain yesterday, as you can see here on our banana tree. It wasn't much -- just enough to wet our whistle (4.4 millimeters, according to our local weather station). I heard one rumble of thunder in the afternoon but that's the only sign of the predicted "moderate to severe thunderstorms" that I encountered.

It was a day of surprises, and not just the rain.

First of all, Bailey's spaying was postponed. I took her in, and the veterinary nurse looked her over in the lobby and said, "Yeah, this isn't happening today." It turns out Bailey is having a "false pregnancy," a hormonal condition, and is even lactating as a result. (As I told the nurse, "No wonder she loves having her belly rubbed!") We have to wait for this false pregnancy to subside -- otherwise, if she's spayed now, her body might not know how to return to normality and her lactation could become more or less permanent. We're trying again on Sept. 10.

I asked the nurse, "There's no chance she could really be pregnant, is there?" We've had her for four and a half weeks, and the shelter had her for about two months before that. During at least part of that time she was supposedly in heat. (I assume she couldn't have become pregnant at the shelter, but you never know. ) A dog's gestation period is about nine weeks, and by four to six weeks the abdomen would be swelling -- so the nurse said she didn't think pregnancy was likely, because Bailey has "a nice waist."

But we'll keep an eye on her. That's all we need -- a litter of puppies.

Bailey got a new toy from the vet's office, which she promptly mangled.

A nicer surprise -- the insurance claim for my camera came through. They actually approved a payout of slightly more than I asked for! So that money should be in our account in five to seven days. I'm happy to put that whole episode to bed.

I also got a call from an unknown number, which always makes me wary. I answered it and got a rather garbled person checking up on my experiences with "transfers." I've been getting a lot of e-mails from car services that Dave and I used to provide airport transfers on our travels -- so I said they'd been fine but I hadn't needed them lately because I hadn't traveled much. The woman seemed a bit confused by that but said she'd e-mail me some information to get me better pricing. When I got the e-mail I realized she was talking about money transfers, which I hadn't done since I paid my last round of British taxes. She must have wondered why the heck I was talking about traveling in our phone call!

Otherwise I spent the day reading, cleaning, and archiving July's photos.

When I took Bailey for her afternoon walk, we passed the house with all the Chinese lanterns growing in the front garden. They look great, year after year. Dave and I have tried several times to grow them and we don't have much luck beyond a single season, so I would love to know this person's secret.

Finally, I compiled our recent wildlife cam footage into a video. Nothing earth-shattering here -- several itchy foxes (or maybe just one?), and fleeting glimpses of foxes and a brave neighborhood cat as they trot past the camera. At 1:22 we briefly see a fox doing that weird open-mouthed panting that I've seen in past videos; not sure what's going on there. At 1:27 you get a daytime shot of Bailey (those nipples!), followed by a nighttime shot in which she barks and Dave calls her inside. The cat is at 2:09 and again at 2:24, followed by more Bailey and more foxes.

As you can see, I moved the camera around a bit toward the end, trying to get a good vantage point to watch for Ratthew -- who did not appear at all, thank goodness.

Balloon Bailey and RAIN!

I awoke to rain this morning -- not hard rain, but not a mist either. A drizzle, I'd say. We have thunderstorm warnings for later this morning, with actual thunder, but I'll believe it when I see it. Of course this is also the morning I have to walk Bailey to the vet to be spayed. What are the odds that we'd have no rain for two months and then, on the morning I have to run an errand like this, a thunderstorm?!

Because she's going to be laid up for a while, recovering from her surgery, I took Bailey on a last outing to Hampstead Heath yesterday. We walked a long way and she even got a swim -- the beach that was closed last time was open again, so evidently the water testing didn't find anything nefarious. (And indeed she was fine afterwards.)

I was disturbed to see that old tree in the top photo with some dying branches. This heat wave and drought has been hard on trees, and indeed some historic specimens have perished as a result. I hope this one, a well-known hollow tree that looks (to me) something like an elephant, pulls through OK.

Here's Bailey in front of Kenwood House, in approximately the same location as The Kinks in my favorite photo of the band. Doesn't this photo look a little weird? There's something about the perspective that cracks me up. Bailey looks like a gigantic Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon about to take flight over Kenwood House. In fact she already looks like she's floating!

As you can see, we had lots of clouds yesterday too, but no rain. Today's forecast, though, is a 100 PERCENT CHANCE of precipitation! Woo hoo! We can't lose!

Other than our walk, I did some minor work in the garden and around the house. It's funny how there are always things to do. I guess when I was working they just didn't get done. This is why retired people often have immaculate lawns and gardens -- not that ours is anything approaching immaculate.

I was sorry to hear about Tim Curry's death, coming so soon after Dolly Parton. It's been a tough week for the LGBTQ+ crowd, given that both of them are gay icons. I found it amusing that even on the right-wing news site I read -- it's good to understand the opposition -- people were lamenting Curry's death and waxing nostalgic about "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." You'd think self-professed conservatives, many of them religious, would all have hated it -- but no. Like Parton, Curry was a performer able to unite the masses.

Remember when Dave and I took Olga to the Rocky Horror castle for a stay? Hard to believe that was three years ago.

I forgot to embed this little video yesterday, which I took when I was sitting in the garden after washing the sheets. I strung up a clothesline by the back bench so I could hang them to dry. I sat behind the top sheet to read, and I liked watching it blow in the wind, dappled with shadows. It's a good thing I did that on Tuesday because outdoor drying is not happening today.

And here's Bailey snoozing in the sun, taken with the good camera.

Oh, some of you asked about her spaying and why the dog rescuers didn't take care of it before putting her up for adoption. The charity does pay for it -- though we pay an adoption fee that probably more than offsets the cost. They told us that Bailey's spaying was delayed because she was in heat and they had to wait for that to pass, but we also took Olga to be spayed when we adopted her years ago. I suspect the rescuers find it easier to have prospective adopters handle spaying and recovery, if possible.

A Weird Rose

This is my favorite view of The Alliance, a pub not too far from us, seen across Mill Lane from Gondar Gardens. You'll notice that the windows are covered with sheet metal. That's because once again, The Alliance is under threat from developers. This seems to happen every few years to a pub that has been officially branded an Asset of Community Value (ACV). It closed in June and was briefly occupied by squatters before being secured against further intrusion.

Who knows what will happen next. I don't think the building is under threat -- it already contains several flats -- just the pub itself. I've only been there a handful of times, but I enjoyed it when I went and I hope it can be saved.

Here's an odd garden anomaly. This rose grew up from the base of the plant, on a thick stem about ten inches high, and promptly bloomed! (The bush above it still seems healthy.) I was surprised to see a flower form on a stalk so low to the ground. I wonder if this is some kind of drought response. Maybe if there'd been water that new stalk would have been much taller.

I took Bailey out for a walk to the cemetery yesterday. While we were walking I got a call from the dog charity where we adopted her -- they've set up an appointment for Bailey to be spayed tomorrow. No time like the present! The poor girl has a rude awakening coming, but after that she may be even calmer. Fortunately the vet doing the procedure is right around the corner -- not far from The Alliance, actually -- so getting there won't be difficult. I'll be curious to see how she does at the vet's, given how reactive to other dogs she can be.

She is not going to be happy about this.

I was so sorry to read about Dolly Parton. She was truly a uniter and a good-hearted person, and we needed her to live forever.

The Dozing Bulldozer

Nicole Jr., the offspring of Nicole Nicotiana, is now blooming. This is the seedling that grew of its own accord in a pot with a teasel, and I put them both in the ground three or four weeks ago. I love those gossamer threads of spider web between the flowers. We're at the time of year when spiders hang their webs all over the garden, though I think I'm seeing fewer of them this year, maybe because of the drought.

I'm just glad Nicole Jr.'s flower stalk survived long enough to bloom. In our flower beds these days, with the bulldozer power of Bailey, that is not a given.

In fact, this was one of my garden projects yesterday. Bailey had absolutely trampled this bed between the walnut tree and the Philadelphus by the back shed. Squirrels tend to be found in both trees and running along the fence, so she is often back and forth there, barking wildly. Yesterday I installed bamboo canes to try to keep her off some of the plants, and I tied up the ferns so the fronds won't be so easily flattened. I have no idea whether this will have any impact at all, since a bamboo cane -- no matter how strong or how deeply planted -- is no match for 20 kilos of hurtling staffy. But we shall see.

These beds also look bedraggled from lack of water. Everything is dry as a bone. I cut down the rest of our Crocosmia, which had prematurely turned brown in this dry weather, as well as the Persicaria by the blackberries. It all looked like hell. Better luck next year, hopefully.

Incidentally, remember my cautious excitement about our rainy forecast several days ago? Well, none of that rain has materialized so far. None of it. We had two brief spells of light rain, on Aug. 18th and 19th, and as far as I know that's been it so far. This week looks promising for more, but again, we shall see.

I did finish Derek Jarman yesterday. And I took the dog for a brief walk in the morning and afternoon, as usual. This twice-daily dog walking is getting old, though. I need to be able to get out of the house and go do my own thing, and I feel trapped by canine obligations. I'd hoped we could do without a dog walker but I think we may need one after all. Besides, when I'm away traveling, what's Dave going to do? He can't come home from work every afternoon just to walk the beast.

I'm talking to the same dog-walking company that used to take Olga. Apparently they also do solo walks, which would be perfect for Bailey. Hopefully we can work something out.

Bailey this morning, lying next to me and twitching in a dream state.

Pruning the Dude

It's funny that the very tropical Brugmansias have chosen now to bloom, because it's starting to feel downright autumnal out there. Something about the low humidity and lower temperatures, a subtle shift of the sun, is telling me that it's almost fall. It's 55º F this morning (about 13º C).

I just gave Bailey a Dentastix, which you will remember was one of Olga's favorite treats. Olga would eagerly snatch them from us and gnaw them apart immediately. Bailey, though, takes them uncertainly, and then carries them out into the garden or to a remote corner of the house and "buries" them. (Indoors this means shoving them under a radiator or houseplant.) I don't know if she doesn't like them or if she's saving them for later -- often if we retrieve the treat and give it to her again, she eats it right away. She only does this with Dentastix, not other treats. Mysterious.

Anyway, this morning she tried to bury her treat in the "wandering dude" plant, trailing across the floor and around the other plants in the living room. In the process she broke many of the stems, so the dude needed an emergency pruning job.

All this before I could even get coffee!

Yesterday we went to the cemetery, where she chased squirrels while on her extra-long lead. She gave my arm a workout.

Otherwise I mostly read. I'm almost done with Derek Jarman. We're in the last year of his life, and his medical struggles have intensified so that's become bleak. But his mind remains sharp and his social criticisms interesting. Yesterday, for example, I read this passage reflecting on people who are especially attached to the place of their birth or childhood:

"Peter worrying about his Welsh maiden. I told him to forget her. Who wants to be married to scenery? People who hail from these postcard childhoods, and won't let you forget it, seem so retarded, often the more ghastly these places are the more they are defended. People who come from 'somewhere' enter life old-fashioned and rather regressive. The cool thing is to come from nowhere and then the future can flourish...My criticism of being married to scenery comes right over into the film ["Wittgenstein"], which is set nowhere. It demonstrates that the historicizing attitude to biopic is totally irrelevant, questioning all of that in one black drape. It goes to show that Vienna is just a grand piano. Places are no longer of much interest to the sophisticated, after all they are all the same: you buy your Thai meal in Soho and your steak and chips in Bangkok."

Jarman was born in suburban London, so his own origins probably contribute to that perspective. He wasn't born anywhere unusual. I don't find places uninteresting, but I do agree that being too attached to the past, too anchored to self and identity, can hinder the future.

He is also endlessly critical of the royal family:

"We are taking off on this windy day for a holiday that has been cancelled endlessly by illness. The hovercraft is called Princess Margaret, it presumably runs on gin. A hovercraft is a lumbering sort of thing, rather like a large black beetle, which you can't quite believe flies. It seems to date from another technology, like Princess Margaret. I suspect she wears rubber skirts too."

Dave ordered some new clothes from Land's End (not rubber skirts) and they arrived yesterday. He's just been trying on a couple of the shirts and they are huge. "Is this too big?" he asked me, wearing something akin to a striped slipcover. Turns out he ordered everything XXL, which is way too big even for him. I don't know what he was thinking but I will probably wind up schlepping it all to the post office to send it back.

This is sitting in front of the house waiting for collection by the council -- our old disintegrating garden bench and the rusty wheelbarrow I used to transport Olga on her last trip to the vet. I'm glad to get rid of both items.

She's a Unit

I'm having some fun experimenting with the new camera in the garden, but I wish I could take it out on the streets. I can't really do that until my camera bag arrives, though! That should happen tomorrow. Meanwhile, lots of garden shots.

Even plain ol' houseflies look elegant sunning themselves on the flowers!

Thanks for all your concern about my ears. Let me just clarify -- although there's mild itchiness, there's no redness, heat, swelling or other sign of infection, and if it's an allergic reaction it's not a very severe one. It shouldn't be an allergy, because the earrings are titanium, which is hypoallergenic. (That's why it's used in medical implants.) If it persists or becomes worse I'll follow up with the piercing studio, but I really think it's just my ears' initial reaction to the mild injury of the piercing. In fact I'm less and less aware of it over time.

I spent yesterday morning reading on the garden bench, and Bailey stationed herself in the sun near the birdbath, just like Olga used to do. Bailey looks like a walrus or elephant seal, hauled up from the ocean with her gray-brown coloring and somewhat bulky (but muscular!) body.

I was walking her yesterday afternoon when a neighbor stopped me and asked about her. I told him her name and she enthusiastically welcomed his scratches. "She's a unit, though, isn't she?" he said.

Perplexed, I replied: "A what?"

He made a sort of He-Man muscle pose, and then I understood. "Yeah, she's strong," I said. I laughed about this later with Dave, who said the kids at school use the word "unit" this way. We both agreed that we should have named her Unit. It's likely to become one of her nicknames.

(From Google: "In slang, a unit (often used in the phrase 'absolute unit') describes a person or animal that is physically large, muscular, heavy, or impressively imposing.") Here's a Reddit thread about the age and origins of the term, which are apparently disputed.

I spotted this street sign on our dog walk, and laughed at the appended note. Yes, there is another way, via Fortune Green Road.

Last night we went out with our friend Gordon and his wife Donna, who we haven't seen in several months. We ate at Chez Rose near Bond Street, which was very good. (I had Dover sole meunière.) We traded stories of our summer adventures, their travels around Ireland in a camper van and our excursions through Italy and Croatia, including my tale of woe with my camera and my excavation of the garbage dumpster in Rome. Now that I've replaced the camera I can laugh about it -- sort of.

Itchy

Yesterday was pretty quiet. I spent much of the day hanging around in the garden, reading Derek Jarman and walking the dog. Normal stuff.

My earlobes are itchy after their piercing. The aftercare instructions said not to touch them, so I'm avoiding that, and I irrigate them with saline solution twice a day. I'm not supposed to use alcohol or hydrogen peroxide -- not sure why -- and I'm not supposed to turn the earrings the way we were all told to do years ago. Apparently that's not really necessary. The rule nowadays is hands-off.

I just want to scratch them in the worst way. (I take itchiness as a sign of healing, but who knows?)

The dog went berserk in the afternoon when she saw something in the garden, leapt off the couch and barreled out the back door at top speed. She nearly knocked over my table and somehow smashed a potted plant on the patio -- an Astrantia -- while rounding a corner. So then I had to dig a hole and plant the plant, because I didn't have another pot to put it in. That made me grumpy, and that was the state I was in when Dave came home from work -- grumbling and cursing about the dog.

I sometimes forget that people can hear me when I'm in the garden, and I do curse when I get snagged by roses or blackberries or when there are other mishaps. Sometimes it's just under my breath so I sound like Yosemite Sam, and sometimes it's an out-loud "For f--k's sake!" I told Dave yesterday that I probably need to be more careful about that, given that there's now a 10-year-old living upstairs.

I just read a few days ago that actress Phyllida Law died at the end of July. She's one of our neighbors! In fact, she's the one whose front garden features the bathing beauty I mentioned just a few days ago. I've never met her but when we first moved here I would occasionally see her in her front garden --- not so much in recent years. I had no idea she'd died and her house seems unchanged. I wonder what the plans are there? Since her famous daughter (one of them) lives right across the street it seems possible there will be no change at all. Emma may just keep everything as is. I hope so. Every time someone sells a house on this street the new buyer guts it and does a massive renovation that takes a year, and there's noise and scaffolding and skips and concrete mixers, and it would be nice to avoid all that. Besides, her garden with its statuary and figurines is a wonderful island of quirky individuality.

I also read an article about a right-wing provocateur who has visited Dearborn, Mich. several times to stir up trouble. Nothing special about that, except for this wonderful detail included by the reporter: the provocateur "declined to comment, chewing up a reporter’s business card." What a great way to show readers that he's basically a lunatic.

Found this in Kilburn. I thought it might be Latin but according to Google it doesn't really translate into anything -- "how much as how much" in Italian. Maybe how much is enough, or how much is too much? Or maybe it's gibberish. Who knows.

My Ear-Piercing History

I found this coleus in the trash at the cemetery while walking Bailey on Wednesday. Someone had obviously refreshed the landscaping on a grave and tossed it, and it was all withered, but I thought, "That plant still has life in it!" So now it's in a pot on our patio and, as you can see, it has perked right back up.

I love coleus and yet I rarely buy or plant them, and I have no idea why. I grew some several years ago but that was the last time. So thank you, cemetery gods, for bringing coleus back into my life.

As you can see, yesterday's ear-piercing adventure went off without a hitch. (They even gave me a lollipop, like the bank used to do when I was a kid.) I had it done over in Kilburn at a tattoo/piercing shop. I initially chose plain silver earrings but then, at the last minute, went for "diamonds" (not really diamonds). Why not get some bling?!

The piercing was by hand -- not with a gun, as it was when I first got my left ear pierced at Claire's way back in 1989 or so. This time around, my piercer (piercing technician?), a woman named Logan, carefully measured where the holes should be and made them level, and overall put a lot more consideration into it than the teenager at Claire's, who set my first piercing too low on the earlobe.

Et voila! I'm happy with them! I have to wear these studs two to three months before switching them out for hoops, which is my ultimate plan.

(Remember that ridiculous "rule" back in the day that straight guys got their ears pierced on the left, but gay guys on the right? Was that ever really true or just urban myth? I don't know why I got my first piercing on the left, because I was out to my friends and family by that time, but maybe I didn't want to be that publicly out. I always really wanted them both done, like George Michael in the "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" video, but that was unheard of back in the '80s, at least in Central Florida.)

I had my left ear pierced a second time in Morocco in September 1994. I was a Peace Corps trainer that summer, training new volunteers, and we called our training center by the French term stage, pronounced "stahzh." I wrote on Sept. 9: "I got my ear pierced again last night! ... It was another insane adventure. I raced all over downtown [Rabat] with Claudia and Mary trying to find a place that could do it -- and then, once we'd run through the medina (we had to get back to stage by 7:30 for dinner), we had to find a jeweler with a suitable pair of studs. Most everyone wanted to use these tacky, fake-diamond ones. Cheesy! I made some jewelry guy go hunt down a plain pair. All in all, I paid 50 Dirhams -- and we made it back to stage in time, breathless.")

Pretty funny that I thought fake diamonds were tacky and this time that's what I chose! Later I wore a small silver hoop in each hole. I wish I still had those hoops, which I bought in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, while traveling. As I recall I took them out after I came back to the USA and returned to work as a reporter in December 1994, and only wore them intermittently for the next few years after that. Eventually the holes closed up again.

Anyway, in the photo above you're seeing my new glasses, too. I've gone for a sort of Buddy Holly look. These are simple readers I ordered from Cubitts online and they're better than any glasses I've had in years. Certainly better than those awful varifocal (and then bifocal) lenses I got at the opticians the last time I went. Cubitts from here on out!

Some giveaways on the way to the piercer. I didn't take any of them, but Bailey (lower left) was interested!

New Camera!

Yesterday was devoted to righting what felt like a massive imbalance in my life -- my lack of a good camera. Ever since I lost my camera in Italy I've felt incomplete, and although the phone camera has served me well, I'd had several moments when I wanted to take a picture and couldn't because I didn't have the right lenses or capabilities.

The eclipse was a prime example. I don't know anything about the mechanics of photographing an eclipse, but I felt that I missed an opportunity to learn.

So yesterday I took the tube into town and went to Park Cameras and got myself back on track.

I thought I knew where the camera shop was, but as it turns out I did not. I took the tube to the wrong stop and wound up walking a bit to get to where I needed to go. But in a way that wasn't so bad, since it gave me a chance to stretch my legs and take a few phone pictures in Soho...

...like this one of The George pub, with some building work going on behind it.

Eventually I got to Park, told the guys there my situation, and wound up buying a Canon EOS R6 Mark III, and replacing the three lenses that I lost (I got slightly different ones, but with similar capabilities). While the camera I lost was a DSLR, this camera is mirrorless, which means it doesn't have an internal mirror and is entirely digital in its viewfinding. That may not mean much to you, but it's a newer technology and manufacturers aren't really making DSLRs anymore, so it seemed like the way to go.

So basically, I've replaced my kit and I now have a lighter, smaller camera that does everything my old camera used to do. And I've ordered a camera bag identical to my old one (which should arrive in a few days).

I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I was practically in tears walking away from the camera shop.

I haven't had a chance to use it much, because I had to get it home and unboxed, and then I had to charge the battery which took a couple of hours. In this post, only the top photo came out of the new camera. I've also discovered that if I get down on the ground and try to take pictures, Bailey thinks it's playtime and leaps on me with great enthusiasm.

I took the picture above with my phone in the Oxford Street tube station on the way home. That tobacconist looks like it hasn't been open in ages. The Coca-Cola sign dates back to 2012, when we hosted the Olympics, if that's any indication. At first I was confused by "Auto Service," but I assume that means you can serve yourself -- not that they'll fix your car.

In other news, longtime readers might remember my enthusiasm for the book "The Martian Chronicles." Well, I realized the other day that it is now August 2026, and in "The Martian Chronicles," which was written in the 1950s, one of my favorite stories is set in this very month -- "There Will Come Soft Rains," which describes earth after it has been destroyed by atomic war. Specifically, it describes an automated house going on robotically in the absence of its dead owners, making breakfasts that are never eaten and reading poetry to empty rooms. I first heard that story in the seventh grade and I've never forgotten it. Back then, August 2026 seemed like the far-distant future, and yet here we are. We haven't destroyed ourselves with atomic war (yet) but we do have artificial intelligence and Alexa playing us music and helping us run our homes. We are living in a time of science fiction.

Sweet Relief, and My Toes

It's cooler today, and we had more rain. I woke in the night and heard it pattering on the roof. Again, not a lot -- just a drizzle -- but better than nothing.

The Brugmansia seems to be thriving. We kept watering and watering it during our hot spells, and in return it has grown and now has five blossoms and 11 buds! The only way I could show the whole plant was to shoot it from above (and unfortunately I couldn't manage that without also showing you my toes).

Here it is from the side. Those zucchini-like things are buds for forthcoming flowers.

And here's what my weather app is telling me we can expect for the next 10 days. Woo hoo! If this proves true -- and that's a big IF, given how chancy the forecasts have been lately -- it will go a long way to setting the garden to rights after our drought. I don't think it will fully restore our water levels to where they should be, but this is just what we need for the plants -- repeated, soaking rain. And look how chilly it's going to get! Not sure the Brugmansia will like that.

I belatedly realized I forgot to tell you yesterday what happened with my ear-piercing plans. I intended to get it done Monday, but when I called our local piercing place, they said the woman who does it is on vacation until Thursday. I could have gone somewhere else -- I mean, it's London, and there are a zillion places to get pierced -- but instead I just scheduled an appointment for Thursday. So it's still happening, just not immediately.

I heard back from our travel insurer about my camera claim. They wanted more information, which I sent just now. So presumably that's grinding along. I'm hoping to go look at replacement cameras today. I've been reluctant to do so because I haven't wanted to leave Bailey alone, but I also have to live my life and the dog has to be comfortable getting along without me!

I'm still reading Derek Jarman's later diaries. Every once in a while I come across a passage like this -- where the words have been visibly redacted. I'm mystified about why this was done. Why not just eliminate that paragraph entirely, rather than show the blacked-out text? I can only assume that the lawyers intervened at a late stage in the editing process, and the words had to be redacted this way to avoid upsetting the type flow on all the ensuing pages. Of course it makes me wonder what he said!

The Spell is Broken

You won't believe what happened in the wee hours of this morning. It RAINED! Yes, we had actual rain drops falling from the sky, complete with the sweet petrichor aroma and the pattering sound. Our first rain in two months! And this morning, the birds are making noises and the world seems to have awakened from its long, dolorous dusty stupor.

I don't want to get too crazy because the rainfall was very brief -- a  matter of millimeters -- but we're supposed to have more in a couple of days.

So that's definitely our big news, but let me tell you about yesterday. I worked in the garden in the morning, cleaning up more old leaves and sticks in the wildlife area and behind the shed. Normally I'd leave all that for the critters, but in an effort to discourage Ratthew I'm trying to be a bit neater. Besides, Bailey has developed a habit of pulling old sticks out from behind the shed and bringing them out onto the lawn to chew. I'd rather she not risk ingesting wood shrapnel. Into the yard waste bag it all went.

In the afternoon we took a walk to the cemetery, where I found this odd stone circle standing in a roundabout at the intersection of several roads. This is a new feature in the cemetery, and I have no idea when it was installed or why. It's been there for a couple of weeks at least, if this YouTuber is any indication -- he seems to think it is a vortex of energy related to some supernatural force(s). I think it's probably just supposed to keep people from driving over the roundabout, a traffic barrier with artistic aspirations. (The first six minutes of his video are quite entertaining -- or at least they were for me, familiar as I am with the cemetery. I loved it when he got so freaked out by something moving in the trees. Maybe it was the turaco?!)

Bailey is not convinced of the stone circle's artistic merit. As you can see, some of the monoliths have colored glass balls and cylinders embedded in them, and at least one has a borehole through it. Another has a rusty bolt sticking out. It's a mystery!

On our morning dog walk, we found a shelf of free stuff being given away (above)...I thought later perhaps I should have taken that Lego parrot. Maybe I could have resold it! Some Lego kits are apparently quite valuable.

On nearby Sumatra Road, there's a little park with some playground equipment. Most of it is fenced, but there's a grassy verge bordering the street, and in that area several days ago Bailey and I encountered some raw meat lying on the ground. Very gross. Well, apparently whoever made this sign was also repulsed.

And finally, so as not to leave you with such an unpleasant mental image, here's a picture of one of our late-season zinnias. This particular plant has given us five flowers and it's unlike any of the other plants, which all have purple blossoms. Go figure!

Oh, and I solved a household mystery. I can't remember if I mentioned it here, but we've had three small windows in the flat that we've never been able to open. I couldn't tell if they were locked or broken but I was certain we didn't have a key for them. In fact I recently asked the management company to send someone to fix them.

And then yesterday, while cleaning, I looked more closely at a couple of keys hanging from a keyhole in the back of the glass door separating the hall from the living room. (Those doors are always open so we don't use the keys.) I thought they just went to the door, but by golly, there was a tiny window-lock key there too. And bingo! It opened our windows! We've lived here 14 years with those windows locked and that solution was within reach the whole time.

This is the kind of problem one finally has time to solve once one is retired!

Here's my rain video. I know it's dark and you won't be able to see much, but I want to share my joy at having some moisture fall from the sky. At the end, as a reward for sitting through the rain, you'll see Bailey scratching her leg and simultaneously licking the air -- a funny habit that never fails to amuse.

The Dry, Dry Garden

Spotted on my walk with Bailey yesterday up to Child's Hill Park. I'm glad someone is still thinking about Ukraine (aside from the ever-conscientious Boud). It sometimes seems like that whole conflict has been lost amid the insanity of the Trump administration and the world's other wild vacillations.

We had a good walk, although I could not get Bailey interested in chasing her tennis ball. She'll do it at home, but often when we're out at a park she'd rather smell the smells and explore the new territory. I briefly put her on the long lead to no apparent benefit, before switching back to the short one.

On the way home, Bailey took a moment to watch a Cricket game on the playing fields near the cemetery. She must wonder what's going on out there. The sign on her lead says, "No Dogs -- I Like People." I got it from Amazon at the suggestion of the shelter, but I've debated whether to continue using it. I think most people miss the second part and assume she's just a savage ravening terror. Besides, I steer her around other dogs long before their owners get close enough to benefit from reading it.

Here's what our dry, dry garden looks like. I really think we've lost that buddleia at right, which is a shame. And our wallflower, which is barely visible lower right, is dead as a doornail. I went back to look at pictures of the August garden in recent years and even in dry ones it's never looked this bad. Here it is in 2025, 2024 (so green!), 2023 (CRAZY green!), 2022 (also very green) and 2021 (look at the buddleia then, at right behind the yellow Inulas).

I know I keep moaning about this drought but it feels oppressive. Everything seems dusty and exhausted. I swear I haven't seen a snail all year, and normally I'd celebrate that fact, but it just seems wrong.

Dave is off to school this morning for his first day of work. There are meetings and I AM SO GLAD I'M NOT GOING!

Instead, think I'll get my ears pierced -- seriously. I've always wanted both ears pierced, and if not now, when? I used to have my left ear pierced (twice!) but I haven't worn earrings in at least 25 years so those holes have long since closed. I'm pretty much starting fresh.

Today's Jarmanism, written after gossiping with his friends about figures in the London gay community: "Leigh Bowery -- much loved, and it just goes to show, if you wear silly clothes round Soho for long enough you'll get to be famous."