First Rose, and Other News

Well, thank goodness for France -- or grâce à dieu, I should say. In the face of populist lunacy, they came through with a vote for reason. Now let's hope Macron proves up to the task! The British press has been quite alarmist about how he's scheming to take banking jobs away from London, but can we blame him? The UK created Brexit -- no one else!

Speaking of Brexit, I found this article interesting, about voters in Hartlepool, in northern England, and why they're shying away from Labour and supporting the twin evils (in my opinion) of UKIP and leaving the EU. One pro-Remain voter said: "I know I’m going to get strung up for this, but I don’t think the majority of people in Hartlepool knew what they were voting for. It was primarily immigration and that’s what makes it so sad because we’re going to pay the price now." Which tidily sums it up.

We've been pretty mellow around here recently. I went to a combined birthday party for three friends from work on Saturday night. They held it at a pub near St. Paul's cathedral, which was really smart -- that part of the city, on the weekend evenings, is completely dead, so it was the ideal place to gather a large group. We basically took the place over.

I also finally heard back from the NHS about my dermatology appointment. May 26 is the appointed day. In a rare moment of vanity, I told Dave we need to get our passport photos taken for our new documentation before that date, so I don't have a huge mark on my face!

And I've been trying to figure out the new system for recycling yard waste. When the borough of Camden started collecting trash every two weeks, at the beginning of April, they also went to a paid system for collecting grass clippings, hedge trimmings and the like. So Dave and I paid, and we heard nothing. I put a bag out for collection on Friday, our trash day, and it went nowhere. So yesterday I called the borough, and it turns out we were supposed to receive yellow tags that we put on the waste bags, showing that we've paid our fee -- and the bags themselves go out on Saturday. Supposedly the tags are now on their way in the mail.

Here's our first rose of the season -- or roses, I should say. There were two other close contenders, light pink and magenta. I love how dark and glossy and new the roses' leaves are at this time of year, before they get mottled by black spot and exsanguinated by aphids. (We try hard not to spray anything in the garden for pests. We just let nature take its course. I did treat our amaryllis(es?) for fungus, as promised, but they're in a pot and not really out in the environment.)

(Top photo: Colorful doors in Camden, a few weeks ago.)

Elephant & Castle, Revisited

Almost six years ago, right after Dave and I moved to London, I visited the neighborhood known as Elephant & Castle, at the end of the Bakerloo tube line. According to my blog post from that time, I found a "downtrodden mall" and lots of elephants here and there.

I went back yesterday, as I took a photo walk from Vauxhall through Lambeth to London Bridge. The "downtrodden mall" is even more downtrodden these days, though quite colorful. This area has been slated for redevelopment for years, and the mall is going to be demolished, so whoever owns it is probably doing minimal upkeep. They're not trying to remove those weird white streaks along the outer walls, for example.

The best thing about the place is the big red elephant on a pedestal that stands outside the front door. Apparently this creature pre-existed the shopping center itself, which was built in 1965 as Europe's first indoor mall. The elephant came from an old pub, and photographic evidence suggests it was first installed inside.

When the shopping centre eventually comes down, it goes without saying that someone needs to save this elephant.

There are colorful elephants in the mall itself, along with some quirky little family businesses, a Tesco and a few other chains. Many of the shops are vacant. It's probably hard to rent space in a commercial building whose days are numbered.

I had brunch -- one of several possible variations on an English breakfast -- in a very colorful little cafe called the Sundial. (You can see me reflected in that mirrored column in the middle of the room.) I sat near two people, at two different tables, who were having extensive conversations with themselves. They were definitely not on the phone.

I loved this place.

I suspect the ol' Shopping Centre is more lively on a weekday, rather than a Sunday, but it nonetheless has a tired air. I'm glad I got a chance to visit before it vanishes for good.

My Iran-Contra Affair

About a month ago I shared with you a 1987 article I wrote for my college newspaper, about an appearance at the school by the Soviet poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko. That little walk down memory lane got me wondering whether I had any more obscure articles of historical interest.

Here's another contender -- a story I wrote about attending the Iran-Contra hearings in Washington in the summer of 1987. Iran-Contra, you may remember, was an undercover program by the minions of then-President Ronald Reagan to sell arms to Iran in order to fund the anti-communist Contra guerillas in Nicaragua, in violation of several American laws. When the program was revealed, Congress held hearings to determine the extent of the conspiracy and Reagan's role.

The hearings ended on Aug. 6, and according to this timeline I must have attended in late July, because I was there for testimony by then-Attorney General Edwin Meese.

It's kind of a funny article, because it doesn't deal at all with the substance of the hearings. It's just a "color piece" about what it was like to be there. I was obviously far more impressed by the architecture of the Russell Senate Office Building than any of Meese's remarks.

The first three paragraphs are nonsensical, for which I apologize, and in fact you could pretty much skip them. Also, excuse my youthfully snarky, dismissive attitude about some things -- like the Clarksville protesters, who were no doubt there for a good reason.

This is the only time I can think of during my entire newspaper career when my name appeared in a headline!

So there you have it. Another little moment in history!

(Photo: Apropos of nothing, an old Saab in Camden.)

Lime Lamborghini Redux

I'd like to write a meaty, newsy post this morning, but I can't bring myself to write about (or even think about) politics or the state of our western democracies. So here are some iPhone photos from the past week or two.

First, the Lime Lamborghini was back yesterday morning as I walked to work, and attracting attention from passers-by.

Down the street, the front garden of one of our neighbors is flourishing. They always have a great-looking garden. See those big white peonies? Dave planted a couple of peonies too, last weekend, so maybe we'll have our own soon.

The caretakers of the sports fields near the cemetery have stripped away all the grass. First they sprayed it with something that turned it entirely yellow and now it's all been plowed under. I suppose they're re-sodding? (That's a cricket ball lying in the trench in the foreground.)

Olga and I found interesting shadows on our walk yesterday morning.

We also found a cat! Cats are a reliable presence in this little housing estate, and they always give Olga a charge. (And she does the same for them.) Right after I took this picture it jumped into the walled garden right behind it and then over that wooden fence, none the worse for wear.

Olga and I found this chalk drawing of "Daddy" on the way to Hampstead Heath last weekend. I think he looks suspiciously like me, but I can guarantee you I have not fathered any children.

Grumpy Old Man

When did "May the Fourth Be With You" become a thing? I walked into our cafeteria yesterday at lunch and everything was decked out in Star Wars paraphernalia -- gold and black streamers on the walls, Artoo Detoo hovering over the vegetable curry. It seemed very weird. I figured another movie was coming out or something, but then someone told me that it was Star Wars Day, because of the date.

I swear I have never heard of this before. Or if I have, I blocked it out. I like Star Wars, but I don't see why it needs its own holiday.

I haven't heard a thing yet from my doctor regarding my basal cell carcinoma. It's been almost two weeks since I visited her and she said I'd have a referral to a dermatologist within six weeks. I wouldn't be too concerned, except that I have a feeling once I get the referral letter the appointment itself will be far into the future, and I'd really rather not walk around with this thing on my forehead longer than I have to. By the time I get any attention it'll look like a coconut!

Oh, and remember those Ancestry DNA tests that Dave and I took at the beginning of March? Still no results on those, either. Ancestry initially said 6-8 weeks, and as of today we've passed the 8-week mark (based on when they arrived at Ancestry after being mailed). But they also belatedly notified us that things may take slightly longer because of "high demand." I think it's because of Dave's alien DNA. They've probably never seen anything like it.

I posted this on Facebook, so apologies to those of you who have already seen it. But yes, I did in fact manage to drop my cereal in the kitchen yesterday morning. My hands were wet and I just didn't get a good grip on the bowl, et voila. When that bowl hit the floor -- and miraculously did not break -- the dog came running at top speed. I took the easy way out and let her lick up the milk before cleaning up the rest. Is that bad?

She wasn't at all interested in the bran flakes.

Oh, and I saved the blackberries -- before Olga got near them. Washed 'em off and ate 'em on my replacement cereal. They're too expensive to throw out!

(Top photo: Lunch break, Kentish Town.)

Fig Update, and a Death Threat

The sky is gray this morning and it's kind of chilly, but we did get some rain last night and I'm glad for that. Believe it or not, even here in England things get a bit dry from time to time.

We're getting a new crop of flowers in the garden as May unspools itself -- the pink persicaria, the orange geums. There's still no sign of life from the rescued fig tree (below), but I'm not convinced it's dead. The wood seems to be green -- there are just no leaves.

See what I mean? Dave is itching to throw it out but I've appealed its death sentence and won a stay of execution, at least for the time being. (That stuff coming up around the base of the trunk isn't fig -- it's just weeds.)

We seem to be days away from seeing our first blooming roses of the year. There are some big buds on the bushes, a few showing some color, but none open yet. I will report back!

And here, just for fun, is my tape dispenser at work. Surprisingly, no one in administration has asked me to reconsider that threat.

(Top photo: A housefront near King's Cross, last Saturday.)

On Not Going Viral

This is very weird. Not too long ago, you may remember, I put together a blog post featuring old postcards from my erstwhile collection. Almost immediately, I began getting spam e-mail from people trying to sell collectable postcards.

Then, a few days ago, I wrote about our burglar alarm going off -- and now I'm getting spam e-mail trying to sell me a burglar alarm!

I wouldn't think anything of it except that my e-mail address is nowhere on my blog or my Google profile -- at least not that I'm aware. So how do these people have my e-mail address?! Or am I simply experiencing attentional bias, noticing spam e-mails that seem to relate to blog posts, but that I've actually been getting all along and would otherwise have deleted without batting an eye?

Very weird. Like I said.

I consider myself fairly comfortable with online life, but sometimes the way information spreads is a bit mystifying to me. I don't think I would want my blog to go truly "viral," with millions of people reading my posts. (Not that there's any danger of that!) From my days as a newspaper reporter, I know a bit about how to "promote content" via social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook, and I don't promote my own at all. I'd really rather not. I like my little corner of blogland with my 100 or so daily hits.

I know what I post is public, and anything can happen. But most of my Facebook friends probably have no idea I write a blog. It's not that I wouldn't want them to see it -- I don't mind -- but I'd feel weird trying to drag them here. Does that make sense?

Alas, I will never be wealthy and popular.

The New Yorker published an interesting article a few weeks ago about people who wander the country in vans, living on the road (a childhood fantasy of mine, in fact). The writer followed a couple who've become Instagram celebrities by posting about their "#vanlife." (An aside: I think that's the first time I've used a hashtag on this blog.) She chronicled the ways in which their social media presence has actually altered their "authentic" on-the-road experience, as they make decisions about what pictures to post and where to go to win the most attention from their audience, and from corporate sponsors who pay them to write about or depict their products as an aspect of "#vanlife."

It was a fascinating description of how something that begins as a quest for authenticity can gradually be consumed by commercialization.

Probably won't happen here. Advertisers and viral audiences don't care about 50-year-old men sitting in their bathrobes writing about their postcard collections! Which is fine with me.

(Photo: Outside the Holborn branch library, London.)