Today, just some photos of interesting stuff I've found in my urban wandering.
First, there's a wall on one of my walking routes to school where for months now, someone has been setting out stacks of old publications -- mostly art and political journals. Here are two I found yesterday. That issue of "The Spokesman" is from 1971, and the European Management Journal (which sounds as boring as all get-out) is from 1982. Someone must be cleaning out their closets and bookshelves.
Here's a sign promoting Extinction Rebellion, the group whose march against climate change I posted yesterday. Some of you questioned the effectiveness of marching, and I'd agree that it has no practical effect, but I suppose it does raise awareness. Or that's the idea, anyway. (That was a very small march, incidentally -- some of their demonstrations are large and quite disruptive.)
While walking Olga I found these bedside tables set out on the street. I think they're cool in a kind of Stanley Kubrick way, but I didn't take them.
Boris Johnson's administration has been criticized for its "do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do" approach to governing.
I found this Bible verse posted on a fence near the cemetery. I found a similar one on Hampstead Heath back in January.
This tile mosaic of a swallow (or a swift?) was attached to a wall near Southbank Centre.
A random sticker found on Westminster Bridge -- probably a remnant of someone's take-away food order. The textured disk below the sticker is much more interesting -- a bronze medallion reading "solus ipse non" with the apparent acronym SURY, and punched with holes. Other identical medallions have been found elsewhere in the UK, and there are discussions on Reddit about what they could be.
Here's a close-up. The shield appears to show shaking hands with wings. I'm not a Latin expert but according to the Reddit folks, "solus ipse non" roughly translates to "I am not alone," or "he is not alone."
And finally, here's one of those Covid "Dr. Hokes" stickers which we've seen before. Someone clearly objected to this one!
Yesterday I went back to the Marble Arch Mound -- with a pre-booked ticket this time -- to check out what has been widely derided as a failed tourist attraction.
When I mentioned it the other day, some readers expressed confusion about what it even is, so let me clarify. It's a 25-meter high artificial hill, built over scaffolding right next to Marble Arch. It is planted with real grass and trees, and was envisioned as a lushly landscaped viewing platform that would bring shoppers to nearby Oxford Street, London's retail mecca, which has been suffering during the pandemic. It was supposed to cost something like £2.8 million, with some of that money recouped from ticket-buying visitors.
It opened in mid-summer but was almost immediately criticized for its patchy appearance, and when it was revealed that cost overruns brought the project's price to a stratospheric £6 million, the council officer who oversaw it resigned.
Now Westminster Council has announced that admission will be free through January, when the project is scheduled to come down. Supposedly the trees (at least the ones that survive) and other materials will be re-used or repurposed.
When I visited yesterday, there were a handful of people checking out the Mound, including some who found it an appealing backdrop for photos. The plants and flowers were looking pretty good, I thought, and there were bees buzzing and butterflies fluttering around the lobelia and sedum. I climbed the steps up to the viewing platform, and this is what I saw:
The fountains on an adjacent bit of Hyde Park...
...an aerial view of Edgware Road, an ancient Roman road that runs northward through London...
...and Marble Arch from above, which is admittedly a novel perspective. (Who knew it had skylights? Apparently there are rooms inside that were once used as a police station.)
The BT Tower was visible across nearby rooftops, and...
the Albert Memorial could be see in the distance across the park. (As you can see, long views were a bit hazy yesterday.)
The Mound also emits weird ethereal music, which I hadn't seen mentioned in any of the press accounts. So, just FYI.
I thought it was a nice enough view, and to be honest, if I'd paid a couple of quid I wouldn't have felt ripped off. But it's not a destination that lends itself to a long visit. Once you climb it and walk around the platform a couple of times, you're done. I overheard other guests lamenting that there was no cafe or beverage cart up there -- so Westminster Council, if you're listening, that might be a way to make some money!
From the Mound I dutifully walked along Oxford Street and went to John Lewis to buy some new pillows for our bed. Unfortunately, the pillows were almost completely out of stock -- something about supply-chain issues related to Covid, according to a salesperson. At least I got some idea of what I could order online.
Then I walked south toward Piccadilly, and on the way I came across this:
It appeared to be a march by Extinction Rebellion, a climate change activism group that has been staging protests across London for months, lying in intersections and closing bridges and generally causing grief for the police (who, as you can see, were monitoring quite closely from the rear). A dog in a nearby cafe was not happy with all those drummers.
My eventual destination was a cinema where I was scheduled to see a filmed version of the National Theater's performance of "Follies." Inspired by fellow blogger John Gray, who saw it a couple of days ago, I bought a ticket. I saw "Follies" on Broadway almost exactly 20 years ago, starring Judith Ivey, Blythe Danner, Gregory Harrison, Treat Williams and Polly Bergen -- but I didn't remember the plot (such as it is) in great detail so I appreciated seeing it again, even though it's long. (In this case, almost three hours, including a short introductory clip of Stephen Sondheim talking about the show.) The stars this time included Imelda Staunton, my down-the-street neighbor, who sang the show-stopper "Losing My Mind" and did a great job along with the rest of the cast.
It was the first time I'd seen a stage show in the cinema, so that was an interesting experience. Plus, who could pass up the opportunity to see a show called "Follies" right after visiting a local government folly of the highest order?
I've just emerged from an Internet rabbit hole prompted by the TV show "Mrs. America," which Dave and I watched again last night. I scared up some online footage of Phyllis Schlafly and her anti-ERA campaigns, as well as "Free To Be, You and Me," the Marlo Thomas-produced TV special from 1974 that helped promote gender equality. I vividly remember "Free To Be, You and Me," as we used to sing the theme song in elementary school music class. I wonder if our teacher, Ms. Simmons, meant to be a revolutionary? And I wonder if there was any parental blowback? I wasn't aware of any, but then, I was in second or third grade.
Anyway, we're really liking "Mrs. America."
Yesterday was mostly a day to catch up on domestic chores like laundry. I finished "Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry," my latest Newbery read, which was very good -- I can happily recommend it to kids who want a somewhat sophisticated novel. And out in the street, we had this going on...
...beginning promptly at 9 a.m. I shot that video out our front window. The Middle Eastern music coming from the white van was an interesting touch -- I wish I could have heard it more clearly without all the machinery! In addition to the guy visibly working in the video, there was some heavy equipment digging up the street beyond that tree.
I feel like this project to install broadband will never end -- it's been going on for weeks, although admittedly it's somewhat conflated in my mind with a nearly simultaneous project to lay new water pipes. Our street has been torn up and repaved and torn up again.
In the afternoon I took Olga to the cemetery, where I was able to get an answer to a question raised earlier on this blog.
Last week I posted a picture of the gravestone of Charles Absalom Bromige, in admiration of his name, and lamented that we couldn't see the name of his wife because it was buried. Well, yesterday I brought a trowel along on our walk and was able to excavate enough dirt and roots away from the stone to reveal that Mrs. Bromige was named Eliza Margaret, and she died in 1952 at the age of 89. That means Margaret was actually a couple of years older than Charles, which is interesting -- so often in marriages of an earlier era, it seems, the husband was older than the wife.
And now, back to reading about Second Wave feminism. Speaking of which, did I ever mention the time I went to see Rita Moreno perform a cabaret act in New York, in 2004? It was at Feinstein's at the Regency, a well-known cabaret club on Park Avenue, and it was in the middle of a blizzard so there weren't many people there. I was with a co-worker, and as we sat eating and waiting for the show we gradually realized that the women at the next table were Marlo Thomas, Gloria Steinem, Elaine May and Letty Cottin Pogrebin, most if not all of whom were associated with the feminist movement and the founding of Ms. magazine. I was practically paralyzed, being in the presence of people I admired so much! It was a true New York moment.
(Top photo: An artificial flower, discarded in the cemetery.)
After work yesterday I was scheduled to meet my friend Sally at Southbank for a movie screening. We weren't getting together until 7:30 and I was off work at 4:30, so I had several hours to kill and decided to wander through the parks of London to reach my destination.
My original inspiration for this plan was to see the Marble Arch Mound, which has been widely derided as a boondoggle since it opened a few months ago. I did indeed see it from the outside, but I hadn't pre-booked a ticket and apparently you can't just walk up to it and visit -- at least not at 5 p.m., when it closes. (And why on earth does it close exactly at the time when most people are getting out of work and thus would be able to visit? How about some weekday evening hours, people?)
I just kept walking south through Hyde Park, past the Wellington Arch and down to Green Park, where Sally had told me a herd of elephants was on display. Sadly, the elephants have apparently moved on, but it was still a nice walk. I continued on through St. James Park and over the Westminster Bridge to Southbank.
I got there with plenty of time to spare, so I stopped for a pint at the Southbank Centre's Riverside Terrace and watched the parade of humanity along the riverwalk below.
I even saw some people swimming in the Thames, which I don't think I've ever witnessed before. I seem to remember comedian David Walliams getting all kinds of sick from swimming the Thames several years ago, so it seems pretty risky (not to mention cold!) to get in and splash around. Granted, Walliams swam for eight days and 140 miles, but still -- while the Thames is cleaner than it used to be, it's not that clean.
I also witnessed this enthusiastic procession featuring a guy with a speaker on his back blasting music, a woman carrying balloons that spelled out J-O-Y and someone carrying a big stuffed giraffe. I'm not entirely sure what that was all about.
I finally met up with Sally and we got some Venezuelan food (which was entirely new to me) at a food court behind Southbank Centre. Mine was a veggie version with black beans, rice and avocado in a sort of thick corn flatbread -- almost like a pita. It was good but also about the messiest thing I've ever eaten.
The movie was called "I've Been Trying to Tell You" and it's part of a retrospective of films by the music group Saint Etienne at Southbank Centre. It was visually beautiful, with poetic shots of beautiful people skipping stones and beautiful people jumping into waterfalls and beautiful people skateboarding. But it also seemed superficial -- there was no narrative, almost no dialogue and while it was pleasant enough to watch, it ultimately said nothing. As I told Sally, it was like a long Abercrombie & Fitch advertisement. I still don't know what anyone was trying to tell anyone else.
It was supposed to convey a nostalgic appreciation of the late '90s in Britain, and Sally said parts of it did make her remember her own youth (which, like mine, was well before the '90s). I think the movie would have been so much more interesting if the moviemakers had used real people rather than chiseled, sculpted fashion-model types. But as the director readily admitted in a Q&A after the film, he hired them because they were attractive. So that's what he was going for.
I didn't hate it. I just wish it had more of a message.
Overall, it was still a successful evening. Afterwards I caught the Jubilee Line from Waterloo and got home about 11 p.m. As I write this, I'm hearing the jackhammers back on our street for more pavement excavation to lay broadband cable or maybe water pipes. Urban life!
Dave and I pass this apartment on our walk to work. Despite living high up in a building on Finchley Road, someone's taking their gardening seriously! When I zoom in on the balcony I can see impatiens, tomatoes, some kind of squash or cucumbers, and some other things too. That balcony does seem like an excellent place to grow sun-loving plants.
I bet those rooms (hexagonal, I think?) in the turret are interesting.
Dave and I sat out in the garden last night after work, having a glass of wine and talking about our day, and then walked around checking out the plants. We found this rose blooming way back in the shrubbery, on a bush that rarely gives us flowers. Even now, so late in the season, the garden offers unexpected gifts.
It's 6 a.m. and I've just spent half an hour scrubbing the bathroom. The tub needed cleaning and I figured as long as I was taking a shower, and shaving my head, I should just go ahead and do it. After all, I was already wet and I could rinse myself and the tub off at the same time. Efficient, but tiring, and the day has barely begun!
(I hadn't even had coffee, but I've remedied that situation now.)
Going back to work in the fall always feels a bit chaotic even on the home front. It takes a while to settle into a routine and figure out how to get household tasks done while working all day. I am absolutely NOT looking for sympathy here, because I realize everyone struggles with this and most people don't get a summer off. I'm just saying the adjustment period can be a bit crazy.
As you can see, things are still happening in the garden, even though it really does feel like fall out there. The zinnias are blooming (top) and some of our roses are going gangbusters with a second flush of flowers -- this red one at the back of the garden always performs well, and our yellow rose looks vigorous too. Our salmon rose also bloomed again, and it's my favorite so I was happy for that -- I cut the flower and brought it inside and it's perfuming the whole living room.
I've started listening to an interesting podcast on my walk to and from work. It's called "Alligator Candy," and it's about the 1973 disappearance of a boy named Jonathan Kushner in Tampa, my hometown. In fact, his parents worked at the University of South Florida, as did my parents, albeit in a different department. (I'm sure they didn't know each other.) Jonathan was abducted while riding his bike to a local convenience store, but despite that, I don't remember my parents being too nervous about us going out on our bikes or riding around the neighborhood. We were "free-range kids" just as Jonathan and his brothers were -- and as many kids were in the '70s. In fact I don't remember hearing about this case at all when I was growing up. I would have been almost seven years old when the crime occurred, and I guess I was just blissfully ignorant. At any rate, it promises to be an interesting podcast.
Dave and I also started "Mrs. America" last night, a TV series starring Cate Blanchett as Phyllis Schlafly. I'm excited to watch it, in my never-ending quest to understand the mysterious (to me) conservative mindset.
Remember how I mentioned the demolition of a former government office building on our high street? Well, this was the state of things several days ago. The building is pretty much entirely rubble. Funny thing about this video -- see how it's tilted? I had to stand on my tiptoes and blindly hold my phone up over a plywood barrier to film it. I did it three times, and every single video was tilted like that. Apparently I am incapable of holding the phone straight under those circumstances.
I spotted this rather eccentric house while walking Olga to Hampstead Heath on Monday. You can't quite tell, but the windows and walkway are lined with bedraggled artificial flowers, and the garden is full of weathered lawn ornaments. It's definitely not like all the other houses on the street, which are models of restraint and good taste. Thank goodness for the eccentrics!
But wait...what's that hanging in the upstairs window? It looks like a painting. Why, it's...
...Sylvester Stallone! In full-dress military uniform!
(Or maybe it's actually his character, Rocky -- I'm noting what looks like a Band-Aid on his cheek.)
Or is it just someone who looks like Sylvester Stallone?
