Carnival Cleanup

I had to run out early yesterday morning to buy milk, because our milk annoyingly went sour over the two-day period we were gone -- even though it was not yet past its expiration date. Argh! Why does that happen?

Anyway, the errand gave me a chance to walk through the neighborhood as it cleaned up after the Notting Hill Carnival. Above is one of our favorite local pubs, Portobello Gold, with two guys dismantling what looks like an outdoor bar erected for the festival.

Many of the antique shops on Portobello Road were still boarded up tight. All in all, though, I think fewer stores put up plywood this year -- maybe because we didn't have the ugly memory of recent rioting, as we did last year.

The streets had been mostly swept -- and some were being power-washed. But there were still lots of stray cans and bottles lying around. Red Stripe predominated, not surprising for a Caribbean-themed carnival.

The Spice Shop apparently turned temporarily into a Rum Shack. (Surely that's not a pint of pure rum for £5?)

This normally swanky restaurant about a block from us also saw opportunity in the crowds, putting up an outdoor bar and dispensing rum punch and other drinks. (And charging £2 for toilet access, according to the sign.)

The remains of some enterprising individual's fast food stand on Ladbroke Grove. So much entrepreneurism at the Notting Hill Carnival!

Time to get out the ladders and take down the plywood! (And thank goodness for dark shadows...because in that last shot, the moon was out, if you know what I mean.)

A River of Heather

Dave decided yesterday morning that he really needed to do some work to prepare for the first week of school. So Dick, Georgia and I left him behind when we took their dog Bonnie out for a morning walk. We drove to Thetford Forest, where we came across this amazing streak of purple heather. Bonnie flushed two small grouse from the dry grass and tried to chase them, but she's a dachsund, so the grouse had a distinct advantage over her little legs. Still, she was proud of herself.

We stopped at a garden center on the way back so Dick could pick up his hedge trimmers, which he'd left for repair. I browsed among all the plants, the bulbs and pots, and giftware like candles and picture frames and coffee mugs. They even sold clothing at this particular garden center. The English take their gardening seriously! (And it's the perfect place for it -- hence Blake's "green and pleasant land.")

Dick & Georgia dropped me off in the village of South Lopham, adjacent to their own village, where I wanted to see yet another church. The South Lopham church, called St. Andrew's, is a couple hundred years older than the church in yesterday's post. One wall dates from the Saxon era, before William the Conqueror, and the tower is Norman, from around 1100. It boggles the mind. I just walked in and sat among the handcarved, medieval pew ends -- one even features an elephant, and you should see the peculiar way the artisan, who had clearly never really seen an elephant, rendered it.

I walked back to North Lopham and we went to the local pub, The King's Head, for lunch. They were having a sausage festival, so despite my vegetarian leanings, I indulged in pork & stilton, beef & horseradish and pork & mustard sausage. When in Rome, you know.

Dave and I caught our evening train, and I'm happy to say that we had no trouble getting to our flat last night. The carnival was in its last hours when we got home, and we endured pounding music and mobbed streets until about 8:30 p.m., but then everything promptly switched off and the crowds began to dissipate. The street sweepers came overnight, and this morning the streets look like nothing ever happened. I hear the shopkeepers tearing down their plywood barriers now. Within a few hours we'll be back to normal!

More from North Lopham Church

I mentioned yesterday that I got to walk around inside St. Nicholas Church in North Lopham. One of our hosts said it dates from the 14th century, and like many English churches it has graves in the floor and beautiful stained glass.

It's obviously still an active church community, with what looked like children's crafts displayed on a table and other signs of recent activity. Our hosts said a traveling vicar serves this church and several others in the region.

This is part of the exterior wall beneath the bell tower, with symbols that are explained here, on an interesting web page about the history of the church.

And this is just one of the dozens and dozens of gravestones in the churchyard.

Yesterday we went for a walk in a forest preserve, and napped, and read, and I took another walk through the village in the afternoon. Picked myself a few more apples and some tiny, tart wild blackberries from roadside bushes. I've just about licked the occasionally interesting but overlong book I'm reading, about life in England in the 1950s. And Dave cooked with our hosts, Dick and Georgia, last night -- coq au vin with a fish course, chilled soup and dessert. I like it here, but I'm glad I'm getting out today because I will weigh 400 pounds if I stay.

I shudder to think of the pandemonium going on at home. Things should be winding down by the time we get there this evening, but I'm not looking forward to wading through crowds with luggage in order to get back to our flat. Somehow we didn't really think about that.

Greetings from North Lopham

Well, we made it to Norfolk yesterday. An uneventful train trip of about an hour and a half brought us north of London to the town of Diss, where our hosts picked us up. This is the bed and breakfast where we're staying, known as Church Farm House. It's just as perfect and charming in real life as it looks in the picture. Dave and I are in a room on the top floor, beneath a thatched roof and a ceiling of dark wood beams, surrounded by antiques.

The village itself is known as North Lopham, about halfway between Diss and Thetford. Here's a map, to put it in context.

We went out for lunch at a pub in a nearby village -- although North Lopham has one of its own we intend to try today -- and after we came back to the house, I went for a walk.

I visited North Lopham's village Anglican church, right across the street. Happily it's left open during the day, so I got to see it inside and out. I walked among the headstones in the churchyard and picked an apple from one of the apple trees for a snack. (Hopefully they won't mind. There were a lot on the ground, so I'm guessing they often don't get picked at all.)

Then I walked through town, and was surprised to find a Methodist Church, too. You wouldn't think a village this size could support two churches!

There's also a tiny post office.

And there's a village school.

Right about this time the skies opened and I made it back to the house just in time to avoid being soaked by a thunderous afternoon shower that terrified our hosts' dog. Some things are the same all over the world!

We had a terrific dinner last night with our hosts -- who as I mentioned earlier were former teachers at the school where Dave and I work, and remain involved in musical education -- as well as two other visiting couples. I collapsed into bed and slept like a rock, the only sound from a burbling fountain in the yard outside our window. Quite a bit different from the traffic and the late-night shouting of pub drunks on Portobello Road!

Talking Politics, Without Talking Politics

So while I've been obsessing about my job, the world has been slowly spinning on its axis, churning out a chaotic frenzy of news.

Dave and I have taken to watching Rachel Maddow each night. We get her show online and patch it into our TV. Dave is fascinated by politics and he can watch it for hours -- one of his favorite things to do is pull up YouTube videos of right-wing politicians, especially the hyper-religious ones, making idiots of themselves. I have less taste for that kind of thing. It makes me tired and discouraged. I do like Rachel, though.

I sometimes think I should try harder to write about issues on my blog. But honestly, I'm not sure what I could say that hasn't already been said. Todd Akin's rape comments were bizarre and reprehensible. (England has also had male politicians weighing in with unenlightened viewpoints this week.) Mitt Romney is a soulless automaton with no convictions, and Paul Ryan is a small-government extremist -- that's what I believe, but you've heard it all before, haven't you?

Just know that I'm thinking about it all. I am paying attention.

Meanwhile, I'll tell you about the newest adventures of Pat, our balcony spider. (We've decided to call him/her Pat because we're uncertain of his/her gender, and Arachnopet is just too long a name.) If you've ever wondered whether a spider can catch a bee without being stung or killed, let me assure you that it can. Pat caught one yesterday. And when afternoon rain and wind came and tore down Pat's web, Pat picked up the bee and carried it to the underside of a leaf, clinging to it fiercely. That bee was clearly a prized possession. He/she is still holding onto it this morning.

I find Pat so much more interesting than Mitt Romney.

(Photo: Who do you suppose came up with this name for an apartment building -- and why?!)

Tension and Triumphs

Wow, what a week. So many new people and work patterns! My head is spinning. Fortunately, today I get to stay home, and though I still have to do some work, I expect the spinning will cease.

Last night I had two interesting dreams involving being attacked. In one, I was with a bunch of other people in a convenience store when a woman walked in with a gun and robbed us all -- at which point, I woke up. In another, I was walking by myself along a forest path, carrying a heavy load of some kind across my shoulders, when I passed a man coming the other way. He turned to follow me, and I could see his shadow as he raised a club to strike me. I turned and confronted him, and woke up.

I can only assume that I'm having these dreams because of the new job. Which is silly, because nobody has made me feel vulnerable or threatened -- in fact, they've all been very nice and welcoming. It's just my own innate insecurity, I suppose.

(My violent dreams may also stem from the fact that Dave and I have been watching "Breaking Bad" at night on Netflix -- I think we're almost done with season two now. What a great show!)

I am looking forward to this weekend, when Dave and I decamp to Norfolk while the Notting Hill Carnival turns our neighborhood upside down!

On the good news front, a few more of my photos have appeared on local news blogs. Woo hoo! I'm less enthusiastic about this person, who picked up one of my photos and posted it without credit to Facebook, where it has been widely shared. I guess that's just the way things work in the Wild World of the Internet.

(Photos: Some of the colorful plywood barriers that have been erected in the neighborhood to keep people out of hedges and off private property during the carnival. These particular barriers were produced by an arts organization called Brownbaby along with children from Colville and St. Mary's, two local schools.)

Long Walk with Storefronts

Yesterday's staff retreat was interesting. I got to meet lots of people -- always the real purpose of a retreat, I think -- and I even got to do some samba drumming. Which was surprisingly fun.

I slipped out after lunch, when the retreat was due to get into the real nitty-gritty of teaching. Obviously I'm not teaching so I didn't need to stick around for that. I decided to walk back toward home, and wandered 6 1/2 miles before my feet finally protested and I had to get on the tube.

I found lots of great storefronts along the way!

You gotta love a place called the Hard Work Cafe -- especially when there's an overworked-looking guy sitting outside.

The lamb and chicken on the Cricklewood Halal sign seem to be neon. I'd love to see them light up, but Cricklewood is quite a schlep from where we live, so the likelihood I'll get up there at night is probably pretty slim.

Bucovina is a region in Eastern Europe straddling Romania and Ukraine. I liked the hopeful little note on the sign: "If you like it, spread the word!"

This woman peeked outside just as I took the photo -- what timing! Like many salons catering to muslim women, this one shields the windows so passersby can't look in and see their uncovered hair.