Back to the Woods

Well, it's 5:45 a.m., and I've just finished cleaning the bathroom. Surely that's got to be some kind of record for early-morning housekeeping! I had to take a shower anyway, so I figured, why not do it all? That bathroom was really bugging me.

I met several other goals this weekend too. I managed to read about 75 pages of "The Pickwick Papers" yesterday, so that made me feel accomplished -- getting back on the reading bandwagon.

Olga and I managed a long outing to Hampstead Heath, where her tennis ball happened to land most photogenically in some fallen leaves (above). I swear I did not set that picture up.

She was thrilled to run wild as usual, with no fancy fountains or bandstands or exotic waterfowl to inhibit her. (See yesterday's post.) She chased lots of squirrels and barked up a storm.

And of course, played in the mud.

I also got some minor gardening done. I lifted the last dahlia and put it in the shed, to sleep away the winter with its siblings. I threw away the jimsonweed, which although remarkably durable wasn't rooting and looked pretty awful; I think it had a case of spider mites. I saved the seed pod, so if the seeds are mature enough we can grow a new plant in the spring.

I made our annual end-of-year charitable donations to the Southern Poverty Law Center, the ACLU and Planned Parenthood. And I shaved my head with my new skull-shaver, which I'm getting used to – it's definitely much easier than a razor, but I have to get comfortable with the fact that the shave isn't as close.

Finally, I decorated for the holidays:

Our spindly avocado still makes a fine frame for Christmas lights!

I wound up not bringing in any plants. Our overnight temperatures were forecast to hover right at 32º F, but I think it will be a touch warmer on our patio, with all the stone and brick. I took the gamble that everything would be fine. We'll see when the sun comes up!

Olga Goes to Regent's Park

On Friday, as Dave and I were walking home from work, I realized I'd left my phone behind. On a normal day this wouldn't be a big deal -- I'd just get it the next morning. I don't use it much anyway. But the prospect of being without it all weekend, and leaving it lying unattended in a public building for a couple of days, made me uncomfortable.

So I went back yesterday morning. And as long as I was headed in that direction, I decided to take Olga to Regent's Park. We'd never been there together.

We rode the tube down to St. John's Wood and picked up the phone, then walked the short distance to the park's northern edge. When we first entered we found it packed with people. There were lots of sports being played on the athletic fields.

Eventually we found some quieter places to wander.

I've said this before: Regent's Park is a little hard to figure out. Many of the roads and park features are circular, so I'm never sure exactly where I am.

This is St. John's Lodge, a private residence owned by the royal family of Brunei. Can you ever have too many urns? I say no.

The last time I was in Regent's Park, last June, I saw the air ambulance landing. And this time I saw it again! Is it there all the time, or did I happen to encounter it during two emergencies?

To be honest, Regent's Park isn't the greatest dog park. At least, not for free-running, squirrel-chasing Olga. There are many areas in the park where dogs aren't allowed, or where they must be leashed. (I'm pretty sure I was breaking the rules when I briefly took Olga off the leash for the picture above.) We only saw one or two squirrels, in areas where Olga couldn't chase them – which is probably why they were living there.

This bandstand was the location of an IRA bombing in 1982 that killed seven military musicians. There's a plaque marking the spot.

There were also signs warning people to keep their dogs out of the lake, and to keep them leashed near the water because of all the exotic waterfowl. Olga is leashed in the photo above – she's tied to the bandstand, and none too happy about it.

Anyway, it made for a nice change of pace to visit such a refined park. But I think Olga is happier crashing through the underbrush on Hampstead Heath.

The Noble Lion

Here's another interesting old building from my recent walk through Kilburn. It looks a bit down and out at the moment. That retail space on the bottom floor seems to be closed. If I remember correctly, it used to be a nightclub or bar before it was "Soul Store West," whatever that was/is. Before that it was a pub called the Westbury.

The building once housed the Red Lion, one of Kilburn's oldest pubs. Hence the lion on the top floor, still looking rather imperial! Last I heard, there are plans to turn the building into a backpacker hostel.

There's not a lot of news around here. Dave and I have been walking back and forth to work each day, as usual, kvetching about politics on the way and about work on the way home. It makes the walk go pretty fast -- and we kvetch with humor, not mean-spiritedly, so it's actually a way to make light of all the world's frustrations.

As I understand it, the British government plans to begin rolling out a Covid vaccine next week. I'm sure Dave and I won't be on the front lines -- medical workers and nursing home residents will rightly be among the first to receive it, I believe -- but we both agree that we'll readily take it when it's offered. Neither of us have any qualms about it. I know some people are squirrelly because it's new, but it's not like it hasn't been tested. I'm satisfied it won't kill us.

We're supposed to get some freezing weather tomorrow night, so some time this weekend I need to start bringing in plants, and deciding what to save and what to let go. I'm also hoping to make some headway on my reading. I don't know what's wrong with me lately, but I've had a terrible time applying myself to books and magazines. I think the election, which fueled my need to constantly check up on the news, has destroyed my attention span!

Some Big Impressive Murals

Last week, when I took my photo walk through Kilburn, I passed the Webheath estate, where there's always some interesting street art. In fact there are many new pieces since the last time I was there, all painted as part of the London Mural Festival.

Above, a huge four-story mural of a local resident named June Barber, by the artist Smug.

This one seems very London -- a stylish looking Twiggy-like woman in the rain. (That's how I interpret it, anyway.) It's titled "Maria in Kilburn" by ALO.

I didn't see a signature on this one, depicting two women in bathing suits, one whispering to the other. Other sites attribute it to artist Albert Clegg.

This one is by Spanish artist Nacho Welles, based on a photo of one of his friends.

And finally, this one by Andre Gola shows some poor guy who has lost his head while running down that ramp. (I think it's been around a while.)

This is the same estate where I shot the mural of the insects last summer. It's now covered up by a more abstract work that I didn't photograph; you can see the new one here.

Hug a Rat

I love this little apartment building near the tube station in West Hampstead. Isn't it beautiful? In fact, I've probably blogged pictures of it before. I want to know what those round rooms look like in the turrets. They'd be a great place for a reading chair, and some houseplants, but you probably couldn't hang a picture.

The cabinet guy was a no-show yesterday. Dave and I were home all late afternoon and evening and never got so much as a phone call. Finally, around 6 p.m., the management company sent an e-mail saying our appointment had been rescheduled to Dec. 10. Argh! They act like we have nothing better to do than sit around the house.

(Which frankly, because of the lockdown, is true. But that's not the point.)

Our library Christmas tree has been decorated. We got a group of students to do it, and they completed the task in record time. It's a pretty conventional tree, as trees go, but at least it's finished, and I didn't have to hang all the baubles for a change.

See the crime-scene tape over the bookcase to the right? We've had to tape off all our shelves to remind people not to touch the books -- which is just sad for a library. They can look but they can't touch, because of Covid. (Even though now there's some suggestion that the virus isn't spread effectively by surfaces.) If they want a book they have to come to me and I'll get it for them with my gloves on.

I passed this little display yesterday in the Middle School office. Apparently some kids decorated pebbles in their homeroom class. I got a kick out of the messages -- the little one at the top says, "Just keep swimming," with a picture of a fish. My favorite is undoubtedly the one at left: "Hug a rat. They are great."

Some of you asked what I did with the antiquated Florida driving manuals that were donated to the library along with that 35-year-old issue of the Miami Herald I mentioned a few days ago. I still have them, for now, but they're not very interesting. A driving manual is boring even when it's brand new and pertinent. An old driving manual is even more boring. I'll probably recycle them.

Finally, I have to link this fascinating article from The New York Times about insects that mimic leaves. Apparently scientists know little about them, and recently, they realized that two different species of insect were, in fact, the same species. The males and females looked so dramatically different that scientists were confused for years. It's wild, and the accompanying photos are very cool -- particularly the one showing the insects in their native environment, concealed in a tree. Nature is amazing!

Cobwebs

This is the scene when I walk Olga through the nearby housing estate early in the mornings. I love the way those street lamps create orange patches of light.

Our library Christmas tree was delivered yesterday, which meant I had to string the lights and then scrabble around above the ceiling tiles to retrieve the extension cord we use to connect them to electricity. I didn't fully decorate the tree, though, because we're thinking the kids might like to do the rest. It sounds like a perfect homeroom activity. (We say this every year, and in the end, I always wind up doing it.)

We joked that we should hang masks on it, with maybe a latex glove at the top -- inflated, even! That would be star-like, right? But I think everyone is so tired of coronavirus that a normal tree might be more welcome.

On Monday night I was walking down the hall toward our living room and I saw this:

Now, I fancy myself a fairly decent housekeeper. I certainly feel like I'm always cleaning. So how this appalling aggregation of cobwebs grew above our wall sconce, I'm not sure. The funny thing is, from the living room you can't see them at all -- against the wall they're invisible. It's only from the side, when the light is on, that they become apparent.

I feel like the Addams Family. Or the Munsters.

What creates cobwebs, anyway? Spiders? I've never seen a spider in them.

Isn't it funny how we just don't see what's around us, particularly in our own houses? We get so used to the surroundings, so comfortable with them, and we see them so frequently, that creeping changes are invisible to us until they reach some shocking level of decrepitude.

Speaking of which, our landlord's management company is supposed to send a handyman this afternoon to fix our kitchen cabinet. So at least that won't look quite so ramshackle.

Yesterday's News

People sometimes donate weird stuff to our library. They imagine we want their tattered old paperback books or their back issues of Variety magazine. We got one of the strangest donations ever yesterday. Someone dropped off a plastic bag containing an entire issue of The Miami Herald from Sunday, April 7, 1985 -- as well as three old Florida state driving handbooks (the kind you study before you take your driving test) and a British magazine from 1983.

There are so many questions.

Why April 7, 1985? The front page isn't particularly compelling (above). Why is this old newspaper in London? Has it been here all this time? And why did the donor imagine a school library would want it?

It is a strange twist of fate, though, that it landed on my desk -- since I'm from Florida and spent some memorable weekends in Miami in the 1980s. The newspaper isn't much use to the library, but it's been incredibly entertaining for me.

 

There's a big article by TV writer Steve Sonsky on "Miami Vice," the flashy '80s TV phenomenon that helped put Miami on the map for millions of viewers. When this newspaper came out, the show was just wrapping up its first season. Locals were still musing over what it would mean for the city and its image:

"South Florida, thanks to Vice's filtered, candy-colored, candy-coated image of the tropics, will never be viewed in quite the same way again," Sonsky wrote. "We are hot again. No, we don't look as good as the show makes us look, just as crime was never quite as bad here as the rest of the country thought.

"But they didn't believe us when we told them about the crime, and they won't believe us now when we tell them that Vice's Miami is not all there either -- that the landscape is not all wide boulevards, magenta sunsets and crystal blue seas; that the buildings are not all brilliant mirrored towers and curvaceous Deco treasures; that the entire city is not neon and pastel hustle-bustle once the sun goes down."

This article seems the most likely reason someone might have saved this issue of the Herald. But if so, why did they save the whole thing, and not just those few pages? (And look how terrible that photo looks. Fortunately color reproduction eventually improved and within a few years newspapers looked a lot better.)

There's also a byline by Edna Buchanan, the legendary Miami police reporter who a few years later would write one of my favorite journalism books, "The Corpse Had a Familiar Face." I don't think I've ever read one of her daily stories before. It's a very Miami tale, about a "construction worker and amateur taxidermist" who tried to kidnap some guys he believed ripped him off, and thus wound up in the hoosegow himself.

The grocery ads are kind of fun. At Publix, they were still giving away S&H green stamps, and you could redeem stamps and pay just 19 cents for your tuna fish or 29 cents for a roll of paper towels. You could also buy an Easter hydrangea for a little less than $5, but if you planted it outside in Miami, it was bound to fry.

The personals were kind of intriguing. I wonder if the 25-year-old "considerate, trim, attractive Oriental male" ever found his "sincere female"? He'd be 60 years old now. And what about those four women who all went in on an ad together? Looks a bit fishy to me, but who's to say.

Finally, at the movies, quality fare like "Porky's Revenge" and "Police Academy 2" was on offer. It's easy to forget, when looking back, how much crap was foisted upon audiences then too. We only remember the good movies now. For example, we all know "Return of the Jedi," but who remembers "King David," starring Richard Gere? I had no memory of it and had to look it up -- it was a box-office bomb and was panned by the critics.

On the other hand, I do remember going to see "Desperately Seeking Susan," with Madonna. It wasn't exactly quality either, but I enjoyed it.

I could go on and on down memory lane -- the ads for Barnett Bank, where I had an account until it was swallowed up by some banking behemoth or other. Likewise the ads for Burdines, a Miami department store that was a favorite of mine until it was absorbed into the Macy's empire.

Another interesting note -- the pages are huge. Newsprint was pretty cheap then, and broadsheets were really broad. These measure roughly 14 by 24 inches. Nothing like the downsized newspapers we see today.

I have no idea what I'll do with this newspaper, but for now, I'm keeping it.