Hand of Fatima

Thanks for all your encouraging words yesterday. I had a much better day at work and our router cable finally arrived, so I've been able to extend the router into the living room and boost our WiFi signal. So far it appears to be working much better, though we still have a new router on the way that hopefully will improve things even more.

I knew life would be looking up when I found this on the sidewalk while walking Olga yesterday morning...

...a bright blue, plastic Hand of Fatima. Begone, evil eye!

I'm not sure why yesterday was better at work. I'm trying to be more Zen about my day, allowing it to unfold as it will, reminding myself to breathe and be kind to people in the process (rather than being annoyed that the SAME KID wants to check out a computer charger AGAIN). A bit of mindfulness really does help.

In the evening, Dave and I went to the pub with two of his coworkers and that was a boost, too -- the warmth of a pleasant pub on a cold, dark night. I get why the pub culture developed in this part of the world.

(Top photo: Another ghost sign, on my walk to work yesterday morning.)

Doldrums

Well, this is an interesting turn of events. We don’t seem to have Internet this morning. I’m writing this post offline in the hopes that I can post it later — from work, if not from home.

Who knows what’s going on. Our household technology, as I’ve written before, is crap. Supposedly we have a new router en route from our Internet supplier that will fix all these problems. And a few weeks ago I bought a cable on Amazon so we could bring the router deeper into the house, putting it in a more central location -- but the cable was "lost in the post" (as the seller insisted) and they have sent me another, which has yet to arrive. Oh, brother.

Have you heard of Blue Monday? It’s supposedly the most depressing day of the year. Fortunately we’re already past it — it was this week. I don’t remember ever hearing about it before, but this year I saw Blue Monday mentioned in headlines and wondered what on earth it meant.

Dave filled me in: Apparently someone decided that a Monday in chilly, dark January, immediately after the debt-inducing Christmas season, was bound to be the ultimate in depression. While I consider it a good sign that I didn't independently recognize it as such, I must admit I've been going through some doldrums of my own.

(I did pay my credit card bill yesterday, and that wasn’t pretty, with a lot of our Florida expenses on it. But that's not really a cause for alarm. It was expected.)

Things just feel awfully messy around here. Our front landscaping, our Internet. Our mold problem, the recurrence of which had me scrubbing the living room wall at 6 a.m. yesterday morning. Work has been stultifying. French class is adding some pressure to my life, because I feel like I should be working harder and doing better than I am. My purple heart cutting seems to be dying rather than rooting, probably because it's getting limited sunlight.

Oh, and I was preparing to go see Lumiere London last night when I realized that it’s already over! Sunday night was its last — which is why I could find no trace of it while lugging around Dave’s stock pot on Monday evening. Apparently it only lasted four nights.

So we grind on through the dark winter...

(Photo: Old tile on shopfronts in Tooting Bec, south London.)

Stained Glass, and a Stock Pot

These stained glass windows are located in the library where I work. Aren't they amazing? They aren't actually installed as windows -- they're in protected cases backed by special lighting. They're taller than I am.

This window depicts Joan of Arc and the one below depicts the Venerable Bede. They are the work of Luke Dampney, who created them between 1920 and 1930 for All Saints Church in Plymouth, which has since been demolished. Dampney's windows were salvaged and preserved in the London Stained Glass Repository, which was created by the Worshipful Company of Glaziers & Painters of Glass and English Heritage to save creations like these from "redundant" churches.

They were installed in the library as a memorial to a family from our school who died in the Lockerbie airliner bombing of 1988.

I think it's pretty amazing to have these in our workplace, though like anything we tend to stop seeing them after a while. I took photos the other day to remind myself that they're there. They make especially good photo material at this time of year, when London is so dark!

Speaking of darkness, I went out last night after work to see some of Lumiere London, a festival of lighted sculptures and art installations that has been installed in and around Westminster.

You may remember that I went last week to see some similar artworks in Canary Wharf -- part of a different event with about the same theme. (It's pretty brilliant to do these light installations at this time of year, when everything is dark and people need a reason to get out and about.)

I made the mistake, though, of trying to combine an outing to see Lumiere (which my spell-check insists on trying to correct to "lumber") London with a major errand.

Dave has been wanting a big stock pot. He's talked about it for years. So I decided to get him one for Christmas, and I went to our standard kitchen retailer down in Soho. (We were so busy with travel and wedding stuff over the holidays that we never had a chance to get each other gifts!)

I bought this one, a 35.5-liter stainless steel behemoth that weighs something like 20 pounds. I guess I had imagined carrying it in a big bag that I could easily grasp, but as it turned out the shop didn't have a bag big enough, so I had to hold the pot (wrapped in the largest available bag) by the handles.

As you can imagine, that got old fast. I didn't try to see any of Lumiere London after all!

Instead I trudged straight to the tube, where I expected to be questioned by security staff at any minute about what I might be carrying in that immense pot. Surprisingly, no one questioned me, though I did get quizzical looks from fellow passengers as I schlepped it home.

Maybe I'll try Lumiere London again tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy our stained glass -- also a festival of light.

Snowy Heath

I took Olga to Hampstead Heath late yesterday morning. The snow was melting and heavy drips were falling all around us, but quite a bit was still on the ground.

It was super-muddy, as I expected, and also icy. The paths were slippery and I fell once, though I caught myself before going down all the way and thus spared my clothes. (Then I had to find a clean-ish puddle to wash my muddy hand!)

I said yesterday that Olga didn't like the snow -- but actually, once she was out and about, she had a blast. She got filthy and required a serious bath when we got back home.

We came across some bright and athletic-looking whippets or Italian greyhounds. The one in pink was named Pickles, but I didn't get the names of the other two. Dave (who did not accompany us, but saw my pictures) said afterwards that Olga clearly wants a fancy winter coat too -- but it looks to me like she's more interested in cadging a treat from the greyhounds' owner!

Winter Wonderland

Well, maybe I'm overstating things a bit! Yes, this is our first snowfall of the season. It was already melting at sunrise, and I expect it won't last much longer.

Olga doesn't like it. She nibbled at the icy grass, but came inside pretty quickly.

This was our entertainment yesterday afternoon. I'd never seen "The Blob," a movie tailor-made in 1958 for the teenaged drive-in theater crowd, and I got a kick out of it (though Steve McQueen playing a teenager when he was nearly 30 wasn't very convincing). We got 17 minutes into the film before Dave said, "Jesus Christ, this movie is slow." But by the end we were having a great time making fun of it -- and have you heard the groovy theme music? (Be sure to hold out for the vocals at 1:08.)

Aside from French class -- which went fine, though I am very rusty after just a few weeks off -- I barely went outside all day. I owe Olga a serious walk today, though I'm sure the heath will be mud-o-rama.

An Illustrated Guide to Our Landscaping

I don't have much for you today. I'm about to skedaddle out the front door to French class. (And what's French for "skedaddle," anyway?)

I talked to our flat's managing agent yesterday about the front garden, and they said they'd sent my photos to a gardener for a price quote. As soon as the landlord approves the quote the work can begin. I have a feeling we'll be living with our fallen bush and overgrown shrubbery for a few more weeks, at least.

By request:

Here's the front of our house. (Nice recycling bin, huh?) Our flat is on the bottom. There's another family upstairs, and I believe they own that unit -- how they fit into the question of front garden maintenance I'm not sure. Anyway, as you can see, the bushes are quite overgrown and could use some pruning and shaping.

These tall, pointy Italian cypresses are the trees that bother the neighbor (who lives to the left). As you can see, they're not particularly close to her window, but whatever.

I've pretty much washed my hands of this whole situation. They aren't our bushes, and we're not responsible for them. I have to just let the landlord, the agent, the gardener and the neighbor sort out what happens.

(This is far more than you wanted to know about our landscaping, isn't it?!)

(Top photo: Police box mural in Streatham, South London.)

Sculpting with Light

I'm kind of embarrassed about that last post.

Instead of complaining about our neighbor, again, I should be bridging the gap between us. Shouldn't I? Perhaps I should talk to her about the trash cans, even.

But first things first. I took my photos of our collapsed bush yesterday morning, and I also knocked on the neighbor's door and talked to her about which bushes she's unhappy with. Turns out she's targeted the tall Italian cypresses in front of the house, which she says are blocking light to her front window. (For the record, her window is about 10-12 feet away across two alleys between our houses.)

So I photographed those too, and sent the pictures to the landlord's agent. I said that I couldn't see how the cypresses could be pruned without ruining them, but I'm leaving it all in the agent's hands. At the end of the day, they are not our shrubs. (I did say that the rest of the front garden needs some pruning, which is true. Maybe if they tidy it up, that will be enough to please the neighbor.)

Last night, after work, I had a Royal Photographic Society meeting. But it didn't begin until 6:30 near Baker Street, and I got off work at 5 p.m. There's an exhibit of light-based sculptures and artworks at Canary Wharf right now, so I decided to hop on the tube and go check it out. I knew the schedule would be tight but I thought I could do it.

What I failed to remember is that Canary Wharf is a huge banking and business center, and everyone gets off work at 5 p.m. or soon after. So the tube station was immobilized by crowds of people trying to get home. It took me much longer than I expected to get out of there, and I was late for my meeting.

The sculptures were cool, though -- at least the few that I was able to see. The one at the top, "Fantastic Planet" by Amanda Parer, consists of a huge inflatable humanoid figure crouching as if "it has just landed and is quietly and gently exploring our fantastic planet." (According to the exhibit's web page.)

When I visited, it was sitting back on its haunches a bit, as the evening was very windy.

And this one, "bit.fall" by Julius Popp, creates a waterfall of words taken from live newsfeeds. It was mesmerizing to watch! See it in action in my video here.

As I said, I was late for the RPS meeting, but as it turned out that wasn't a big deal. I was there long enough to see a few people and have some quick conversations. We had a little mini-photo exhibit and competition based on London open spaces, and I entered this photo (top) of Olga, but it didn't win. One guy immediately recognized it as mine, though, based on our famous dog!