The Purple Coat

Yesterday was a long day, which is why I'm not getting around to blogging until 8 a.m.! It was the last day of school before winter break, and after finding a few substitutes in the morning for teachers who had the bad taste to have a crisis on the last day of school, I had to visit school myself to run some job-related errands. I had to have the "bat phone" (the sub request phone) repaired, and had to pass it off to my boss so someone could cover the night before the first day of school in January, because Dave and I will still be returning from Florida at that point.

(Oh yeah -- I haven't mentioned that. British Airways oversold our return flight on Jan. 3, so they're sending us home on Jan. 6 in business class! Alas, I'll be back in London too late to be on call that first night before school starts.)

Anyway, I then had to kill a couple of hours, so I went for a long walk, even though it was raining and generally miserable. My photography teacher, back in January, emphasized that we should be open to taking pictures in all sorts of weather. So I tried.

I walked through Regent's Park, wondering what on earth I would find to photograph in such a bleak, empty landscape. Fortunately a woman showed up wearing a brilliant purple coat, so I shadowed her, walking up ahead, setting up a shot and waiting for her to wander through.

It won't win any prizes, but it's something.

After enduring rain-spattered pant legs and shrouding my camera in a scarf for a few hours, I arranged to meet Dave at the home of his coworker Lorraine, who was hosting the music department's holiday party. We hung out with his coworkers for a few hours, and then went off with Gordon to meet his wife and attend "A Ceremony of Carols" at the Priory Church of St. Bartholomew the Great, in the Smithfield area of central London. It included a performance by a small choir (maybe eight people?) and a harpist. Terrific! We sang a few familiar carols, including "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear," though the latter threw Dave and me because it's sung with an entirely different melody here in England.

Afterwards, of course, the pub.

By the time we got home I was so happy to put down all my camera gear and relax.

Leyton Shopfronts

I did indeed get out of the house yesterday. I took a long walk from Leyton, in East London near the Olympic Park, north to Walthamstow. I found lots of great little shops along the way.

First, this literally Peculiar hair studio. One would think that might be a counterproductive name, but apparently God is looking out for them. I dig the woman with the big 'fro, and what about the giant strawberry? It's all very...well...peculiar!

I found several Romanian shops along this route. Apparently there's a Romanian enclave in that area.

I'm glad the folks at the Shop-Shop-a-Shop are thinking of me!

I have a soft spot for Chinese restaurants, especially with lackadaisical characters hanging around out front.

Hmmmmm...

Looks like someone egged the window -- or maybe the owners figured they'd just get there first.

Now that is an attention-grabbing name.

I haven't a clue what the big sign is supposed to say, but I love the before-and-after shots. That woman on the lower left looks like Cindy Brady. And come to think of it, that might be Jan, upper right.

I have more, too, but I don't want to wear you out! I'll save some for another day!

FedEx Rage

I wrote a lengthy, detailed post about FedEx's second failed attempt to deliver a package to me yesterday, despite the fact that I was sitting quietly in my flat all day waiting for them. I was angry, angry, angry. Every other delivery person can find our apartment, but FedEx not only can't call me, ring the bell or leave a note letting me know they've come by -- they apparently can't even get to our front door. I only learn this hours later, when I check online tracking.

In the past few weeks, this has happened five times with two different FedEx packages.

When I mentioned this incident on Facebook, one of my friends wrote: "Here's the deal: the FedEx delivery man finds it far simpler to just take everything back and say that nobody was home than to actually go through the motions of delivering the packages. He probably spent the day in the pub. You need to speak to somebody higher up."

Which I suspect is true.

Anyway.

I deleted that post, because although it was cathartic to write, it seemed impossibly whiny and self-centered in light of the much bigger issues playing out around the world. I mean, things could be worse, right?

Besides, FedEx got in touch with me and promised to get my package delivered later this week. We'll see if they succeed.

Meanwhile, I am getting the heck out of the house today.

(Photo: Completely unrelated motorcycle guy on Portobello Road, Monday.)

Bint's Chickens

I came across this fun street art on Ladbroke Grove yesterday -- a big chicken decorated with fried eggs. Gotta love it. The artist is Bint, and I met her not too long ago while she was painting at another location. Yes, she is a she, relatively uncommon in the male-dominated world of graffiti and street art.

I found this seasonally appropriate ice-skating chicken (such talent!) last week.

And then there was this one -- even more seasonally appropriate.

I had hoped to get out today and do some exploring, but I'm stuck at home waiting for a couple of packages. For some reason FedEx just can't seem to get things delivered to our apartment. I think they come to the little gate at the back of the complex, which is always closed, and get stymied and drive away. God forbid they should circle the block and come in the huge, main gate on Portobello Road (which is always open) and then ring my buzzer.

I also have to defrost our refrigerator. It has mysteriously stopped working twice now -- I've opened it up to find everything inside lukewarm -- and my theory is that's because the freezer coils are too iced over. I'm not sure whether I'll tackle that today or not. It's one of my least favorite household tasks, only slightly better than cleaning the oven or the shower.

Early Morning Phone Calls

Mass pandemonium this morning! Five teachers out, many substitutes unavailable because of the holidays. I'm afraid I'll have to go in and teach a class myself!

(No real risk of that.)

Anyway, while I wait for subs to call back I thought I'd manage a quick blog post. Dave and I spent a quiet day at home yesterday. He had a lot of work to do and I tackled "Vanity Fair." Then last night we went to dinner with Chris and Linda, our neighbors across the hall, at our local gastropub -- a last holiday hurrah of sorts before they vanish into deepest Surrey and we fly to the states.

Hopefully I'll get out and about with the camera today. That's the plan, anyway!

(Photo: Off to work! Notting Hill, last week.)

A Recalcitrant Heater

When I took Dave's knife to Kensington Church Walk the other day, I came across this nameless shop with a cluster of hats in the window. They were perched there like birds or butterflies, tiny impractical hats that would never keep your head warm or shield you from the sun. I think they're technically known as "fascinators."

I suppose if you're in the market for a fascinator, you'd know whose shop this is. I bet those little things cost more than our rent.

A fellow blogger mentioned yesterday being flummoxed by her modern television system, and that reminded me to tell you of my own latest alienation from modern technology. Dave and I have a heating system in our flat that warms the floors. It's controlled by a series of thermostats, one for each room. The landlords told us when we moved in that the system is a little complicated, but they left an instruction guide and I wasn't too worried about figuring it out.

Well, let me tell you, complicated is an understatement. Dave and I have both tried to figure out these ridiculous little thermostats, which have digital screens and 11 buttons each for things like "day," "minute," "hour," "mode" and "program," or marked with symbols like a sun or a suitcase. We have utterly failed. Last spring we finally figured out how to turn the system off, we think, but this fall we've been unable to turn it back on again. So if I bitch about the cold a lot, keep in mind that our fancy heaters are not really heating. (We do have a fireplace, so that helps, even if it makes me feel a bit Elizabethan.)

Dave and I went to see "The Hobbit" yesterday. We liked it, but not as much as the "Lord of the Rings" movies. "The Hobbit" is a lighter story, and it's maybe a bit too cutesy in places. It also lacks the grand, metaphorical epicness of the first trilogy, which beneath all the elves and dwarves seemed to really be about Europe's disintegration in the first half of the 1900s. (I've read that Tolkien disputed that, but come on.) So, I dunno -- I have mixed feelings about the prospect of two more "Hobbit" movies to come!

Red-Hot Reindeer

I'm not going to write much about what's happened in Connecticut. I just can't. I'm sure I have nothing to say that hasn't already been said, and it's too horrible. I'll just reiterate that we have to do a better job identifying and responding to the needs of people with mental illness or other conditions which make these nightmares possible. We need better gun control, too -- but ultimately we have to take better care of each other.

Dave and I were preparing to go to a Christmas party when we first saw the news. I tried to participate in the dialogue occurring on Facebook, and honestly I just couldn't think of anything to say that would encapsulate the horror and shock I felt. I still can't.

One of Dave's coworkers had a few of us over last night for special holiday "martinis," which really weren't martinis at all but sweet red drinks made with Goldschläger, cranberry juice and goji berry liqueur. They were certainly festive-looking, but drinks based on appearance are sort of aiming for the wrong criteria, you know? They were really sweet. We tried to think up a name for them and Dave came up with "Ruby Reindeer," which seemed to stick. I suggested "Red-Hot Reindeer," because they tasted just like those little candies known as Red Hots...but Dave's name prevailed. We all dressed up in suits and tuxes and nibbled hors d'oeuvres -- it was quite posh.

I did manage to make my way back to the knife store yesterday morning to pick up Dave's newly sharpened kitchen knife. I should have gone the day before, because although yesterday was slightly warmer it was raining like crazy! Ah, winter.

(Photo: A cafe in Crystal Palace, last weekend.)