Index Finger Imaging at QEQM

I can't remember whether or not I've mentioned this before, but I have a very peculiar lump in the first knuckle of my right index finger. It's been there for a long time, maybe even years, but lately it's been growing and bothering me a bit, producing a dull pain especially when I clench my fist. (Not that I clench my fists a lot, but never mind.) I've long suspected it's probably a touch of arthritis. A few weeks ago I went to the doctor to have it checked out.

The doctor said she doubts it's arthritis because it's not in any of my other joints. But she didn't seem concerned. She referred me to St. Mary's Hospital for an ultrasound, and said I would have to schedule an appointment once the hospital acknowledged the referral.

Then, quite by surprise, I got a letter from St. Mary's saying I could just walk right in, no appointment needed. Sweet!

Yesterday I hopped on the tube and went to Paddington, where St. Mary's is located, and was directed to the third floor of the QEQM building. (I idly wondered what that could possibly stand for. Queries Envolving Qualitative Medicine? Well, no -- turns out it stands for Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother.)

When I got there, I was told that -- oops! -- the hospital folks mistakenly thought I needed an x-ray. Because I need an ultrasound, I do in fact require an appointment in advance. So they sent me away again, to return on March 21 at my now-scheduled appointment time.

So my knobby knuckle remains a mystery.

Here are the daffodils amputated from their mother bulbs on Tuesday by Olga. They opened yesterday on the warm kitchen windowsill, even though their siblings in the yard are still tight yellow buds.

(Top photo: A store in Plaistow with a little bit of everything!)

Stalking and Daffodil Carnage

I stalked this street sweeper for about ten minutes in order to get this photo. I saw him working in East Ham on Saturday, and his neon green coat looked so great against that big blue wall. But when I first spotted him, he was standing a long way from his picturesque cart. I stood across the street and tried to look nonchalant, waiting for him to rejoin the cart.

Well, I probably looked super suspicious, standing there with my camera -- like one of those cartoon characters trying to be inconspicuous, whistling and staring upward into space. He saw me and seemed to deliberately steer clear of the cart for a long time. He even got on his cell phone, which made me think, "Oh, great, he's calling the police!" But finally he came back and I had time for just one shot before he was out of the frame.

Yesterday was the best day we've had in months, weather-wise. Temperatures got up into the 60s, the sky was blue, the sun was out. I walked Olga a few times and took her out into our apartment complex's fenced yard to play fetch. We developed a game whereby I would throw her stick toy, she would fetch it, and then we would both race to the corner of the yard where the daffodils are growing -- me to protect the daffodils, her to rip through them. I got there first and fended her off almost every time, but there was some daffodil carnage, and now we have three broken yellow buds in a vase on the windowsill waiting to bloom.

Guess I better keep her out of that yard until after daffodil season.

Ice Age Art

Yesterday I went to the British Museum to see their show of Ice Age Art. Even before I went I was marveling at the age of the pieces I was about to see. In America, we think of a 200-year old church as old. Christianity itself is just over 2,000 years old. But these pieces are tens of thousands of years old. Mind-boggling!

Some of the pieces were what you'd expect -- bulbous female fertility figures. But actually, there were all kinds of human images, some bulbous and obviously pregnant, and some not. The experts apparently don't know what all of them were for. I like to think they were images of ancestors or maybe even family members. Maybe they were the Ice Age version of carrying a photo of your family in your wallet.

There was an astonishing figure of a man with the head of a lion, carved from a mammoth tusk -- 40,000 years old! Again, his purpose is unknown, but perhaps linked to shamanism. Later pieces in the show were 20,000 years old, and it was staggering to think they're only half as old as Lion Man.

Did you ever read the "Clan of the Cave Bear" books by Jean M. Auel? I couldn't look at these objects, the tiny, painstakingly carved statues of animal species long extinct, without thinking of those books. In fact, miniature cave bears were among the pieces on display!

After the show I walked to Red Lion Square, which is a few blocks away from the museum. This statue stands in the park -- it's a guy named Fenner Brockway, a longtime pacifist and campaigner for civil rights who looks like he was probably quite a character. (The hat and scarf make him look a bit like Quentin Crisp, but they are obviously later additions.)

I went to Red Lion Square specifically to have a coffee in the cafe that stands in the center of the park. I stopped there months ago and had a coffee, and after I walked away I realized I hadn't paid for it. I've felt guilty about it ever since. So this time I paid for two coffees and evened the score.

The crocuses were blooming in a band around the park's hardscrabble lawn. For some reason the pigeons seemed to love them. I guess they're just as happy to see the arrival of spring as the rest of us -- and living outdoors, why shouldn't they be?

(Top photo: Food carts outside the British Museum.)

Walking in East London

Just in case you're curious, here's a bit more detail about my long walk on Saturday. I started in Canning Town and walked northeast along Barking Road, through Plaistow, Upton Park and East Ham. I then turned north and walked up through Manor Park and Aldersbrook, and ended at the Leytonstone tube stop. Altogether, I walked a bit more than six miles.

Most of the neighborhoods I passed are working class with widely diverse immigrant populations, which always makes for great photography. I can't get enough of London's cosmopolitan atmosphere. I saw a wide range of shops and businesses, from Russian delis to African restaurants. The area also has quite a football tradition, and I walked past the West Ham football stadium and a huge statue commemorating four key players in England's 1966 World Cup victory. It's not often you see a statue of football players.

It was an interesting route because it took me through both urban areas and the woods of Epping Forest, a scattered band of parkland east of London. I was never far from civilization and the hum of traffic, but I could at least create the illusion of being in the wilderness!

Yesterday Dave and I saw "Silver Linings Playbook," an outing that turned out to be a bit more difficult than we imagined. We went to one theater near our neighborhood and tickets were sold out, so we hopped on the tube and went downtown, where we saw a slightly later show. I suppose the Oscars have brought the film more attention. At any rate, we really liked it -- we talked about it quite a bit on the way home. I can see why Jennifer Lawrence won, because she does seem very natural in her part. Bradley Cooper did a great job, too. I wonder if he'll suffer from Tom Cruise/Brad Pitt syndrome, where he's never taken seriously because no one can get past the pretty face.

While waiting for our movie, we grabbed a cup of coffee at an outdoor cafe in Leicester Square, and it felt so amazing to sit in the sun and take off my jacket. Spring is on the way!

(Top photo: Women check out the jewelry at a pawn shop in East Ham.)

Falafel and Fish & Chips

Oh, this dog. She makes me crazy. This morning she was just rotten. She was insistent about snorfing up every little crumb she could find during her walk, no matter how much I told her "No!" And then she hoovered up half a falafel sandwich and swallowed it in one gulp, with me fruitlessly swatting her on the head and yelling, "Drop it!"

I have to remember not to walk her on Portobello Road on Sundays. There are just too many sidewalk snacks left over from the big Saturday market. Not to mention chewing gum -- she loves used chewing gum. She picks it up, gnaws it for a few paces and then drops it again. She just wants a quick taste.

So, yeah, that was our walk this morning. Quite different from the walk I took yesterday through East London, without the canine vacuum cleaner. It was nice to leave home and know Dave would be here with Olga. Whenever I leave her alone during the week I feel guilty -- closing the door on her is always hard -- and then I have a nagging urge to get back. But yesterday I stayed out for five hours or so, guilt-free. I walked and walked, took lots of photos, and had fish & chips at a little chip shop overlooking a lake in Aldersbrook, complete with a cold, sweet Dr. Pepper. I think it's been about 20 years since I last had a Dr. Pepper! I drank it watching the moorhens and swans in the lake, and the people coming and going from a nearby bus stop.

Ah, yes, it's the little things.

Today I've got some work to do -- my weekly sub reports -- and Dave and I are planning to see "Silver Linings Playbook," to put my inquisitive mind at rest about why Jennifer Lawrence deserved that Oscar.

(Photo: Scooters outside a school in Holland Park.)

The People in My Neighborhood

More random photos from Portobello Road, taken during a quick outing on Thursday to buy light bulbs. (It's great to have a hobby you can practice anywhere, at any time!)

I try to be discreet when I walk along, looking for interesting people.

But sometimes they see me, and I'm not sure they're happy about it.

This guy was taking a break from making smoothies to spend time with a good book. Can't say that I blame him.

This woman's pants were what first caught my eye, but then I was handed a photo-op within a photo-op!

Coal Holes 2

Following up on my post from two days ago, here are a few more beguiling coal holes from the sidewalks of Notting Hill...

One of my British blog pals posted this comment on my previous entry about coal holes:

"In 1950s Lancashire we had gratings at pavement level above our coal cellars. A popular scam was to knock on a door, crying about losing half-a-crown down through the grid, wailing about how it was dad's beer money and so a beating would ensue if not returned. A fruitless search would reveal no coin in the basement coal hole. Gullible householders would lend the young con artist the money to stop the commotion!"

And as promised, here are four more of the public art project coal holes from 2004, in which local writers penned text for an artful coal hole cover.

Margaret Drabble's coal hole is in front of the Notting Hill Coronet movie theater, where Dave and I often go: "Behold the glittering Coronet of diamonds, tears and dreams."

Sebastian Faulks' coal hole takes sides in a rivalry between Notting Hill Gate and Shepherd's Bush:

"A word in your eye, don't worry or push
A step in the Gate is worth two in the Bush"

Hugh Thomas speaks of local history:

"This district once boasted
A race-course & it retains
Something of the dashing
Classless, devil-may-care, yes,
Racy sense of the turf."

And finally, mystery writer P.D. James takes us even further back in time, with a coal hole near the Daunt Books shop:

"Notting Hill, that vigorous, creative and diverse London village beneath whose pavements the Roman legions marched westward from Londinium."

There's allegedly one more coal hole in this project, by writer Colin Thubron, but I'll be darned if I could find it. I looked all around where it's supposed to be according to this map. I may have just missed it, but I suspect it's been removed.