Surfing in Our Backyard Wilderness

Olga just saw a fox trot past the back door, and now she's on red alert, peering out the glass. She's just waiting for me to let her out, but I'm trying to give the fox a chance to escape first. I don't doubt a fox would win in a showdown with ancient Olga but I'd rather not see it happen.

Yesterday was a lot of lazing around home. We had Dave's co-worker Lisa over for lunch, along with her new baby. It's been a long time since Olga has seen a small infant, so that was an interesting encounter to watch -- mostly just a sniff and then disinterest on Olga's part. "That thing has no treats!"

Dave made cold vichysoisse, chicken jardiniere (basically chicken with roasted vegetables, I think), and lemon posset for dessert. We served the dessert in our martini glasses, which have been sadly neglected of late, since I've basically sworn off martinis in deference to my periodically dodgy stomach.

Here was Olga during lunch, sunning herself right in the middle of the grass pathway that runs from the front portion of our lawn, through the teasels to the back. The teasels are quite jungly now and as you can see in the top photo, they're getting ready to bloom.

I polished off another issue of The New Yorker, this one containing a profile of a legendary surfer by William Finnegan, one of my favorite writers for the magazine. He wrote a book about his own surfing life a couple of years ago that I absolutely loved, even though I've never surfed myself and know very little about it. In this most recent article, I once again marveled at his ability to write using all the surfing lingo, in a way that left me, a non-surfing reader, feeling like I understood it:

Jock used to own Sunset. He surfed it twice this size with matchless style -- taking off behind the peak, back-dooring the tallest part of a huge wave, side-slipping in the barrel. Could he surf it now, in these conditions, on an 8'0"? I'm not sure. He obviously wasn't inspired to try. The beatings are fairly heavy, I can attest. I'm pleased to have survived.

I also worked on my latest Patricia Cornwell novel, "Unnatural Death," which I'm liking. It's a good summer read.

Speaking of foxes, here's the latest compilation of interesting footage from our Garden Cam. You'll see some flirtatious birds chasing each other, a few neighborhood cats (one with a blingy collar), an industriously digging squirrel, and a fox marking its territory on a flower pot. I put that pot overtop the spot where I buried the baby starling that Olga mortally wounded, to keep her and anyone else from digging it up. (Remind me never to use that flower pot indoors!)

More Sheep

Remember when I went to see the sheep sculptures in Southall, a couple of months ago, and only found out afterwards that there were MORE sheep in a different green space nearby? Well, yesterday I set out to find that other group of sculpted sheep.

So it was back to Hanwell station, on what I'm sure was the warmest day of the year thus far (82º F in the afternoon -- or 28º C -- according to my iPhone). I walked to the canal and rather than walking along it, as I did last time, I crossed one of the locks and followed some paths into a large park-like area.

The grass was so high that the sheep weren't immediately visible, and I had to get out my phone and look at a satellite image of the area to figure out where they were. But ultimately I did find them.

It's a sheep family -- two adults and a lamb. You can see from the state of the grass how dry and warm it's been over the past week or two.

They're in better condition than the first ones I found, though the lamb's ears seem to be a bit gnawed.

And with that little adventure under my belt, I decided to pop into a local pub -- The Fox, pictured here -- for a hummus sandwich and a beer. I sat out in the beer garden reading a Patricia Cornwell mystery novel, until I realized I was hearing "I Want You Back" by the Jackson Five for the second time over the pub's sound system. That was my cue that I'd been there long enough.

It was warm but the weather was so nice and sunny that I decided to walk along Uxbridge Road to Ealing Broadway, a couple of miles away. Then I had some trouble with tube trains not running and it took me a while to get home via tube and bus, but no big deal -- fortified by a coffee from Starbucks in Notting Hill, I was back by late afternoon. I think I walked a little more than three miles, all told.

When Dave took his band students to Germany on music tour this spring, they gave him this champagne-shaped bottle of non-alcoholic "tropical partydrink" in gratitude. I'm sure it was sort of a joke. The students are his minions, in a way. Anyway, we've had this thing kicking around the house for a couple of months, so I decided to open it and see how it tasted -- basically, like carbonated apple juice. (Allegedly there was also pineapple and mango, hence the "tropical.") Not too terrible. We drank it all.

Oh, and I know you're curious about Olga's vet appointment yesterday morning. Basically, the vet said it was up to us whether to continue the dog-walker. She concurred that it might be too much activity for Olga at her age, but also agreed that the exercise would help her keep weight off, which helps her joints. So there's give and take. I think we'll keep up the walker at least for the next few weeks, while we're away, and then we'll monitor the situation. The vet also checked Olga over and trimmed her nails, and as far as we can see, she's in good health.

Evolving with Tracy Beaker

I've been stacking up some random photos for weeks, waiting for an opportunity to blog them. So let's make it happen!

First, I was amused by this woman's jacket (above). I love that there's a specific apartment number but no street address -- just "East Village," which of course is a whole neighborhood. Also, a four-digit apartment number seems very unlikely in that area, where everything is 5D or 3C or, maybe in a tall building, 22A.

Also, to be ridiculously nitpicky, who abbreviates New York City as capital N and lower-case yc?

OK, someone's homophobic. I get it. But why Smurfs?

This shelving unit was abandoned on a street corner -- the unsatisfactory (and illegal) way that many Londoners get rid of large, bulky items of trash. (Rather than paying the council to come and collect them.)

I think someone didn't put Tab A into Slot B?

I'm not sure what's going on here. If I had to guess I'd say someone had a dispute with their landlord. But it could be a dispute with a girlfriend/boyfriend, I suppose. In any case, it will be quite a cleanup.

This terra cotta panel adorns a fragment of wall in front of a house near the cemetery. It's very "mod," and unlike anything else in the neighborhood. Or even on that house.

An out-of-this-world sticker for some kind of music or dance event, found on one of my walks. "Trancey Beaker" amused me, because Tracy Beaker is a character in a children's book series by author Jacqueline Wilson. We have them in our school library. I felt pretty hip, getting that cultural reference.

I found this mysterious sign in Dagenham. I Googled to figure out what on earth it could mean, and came up with a building near the river in Dagenham called Evolution House. But that building is several kilometers from this sign, and only roughly in the correct direction. So I'm not sure that's it.

Olga and I found these discarded on a bench at the top of our street. I mean, one iron, OK -- but five? I considered taking one because Dave and I don't have an iron. But then I thought, we've never had one as long as we've lived in London. If we haven't needed one for the last 13 years, how likely are we to start ironing now?

Teddy Bear on a Bicycle

The foxgloves are fading now. This is one of our last nice-looking ones, spattered with rain. We're getting into the hot, dry days of summer. (And I STILL found a big ol' slug one one of my dahlias this morning! Argh!)

I spent much of yesterday reading "The Running Grave." This book is huge but it's GOOD -- I'm having trouble putting it down. Being able to focus on it during my air travel to Spain and back helped me put a serious dent in it and I'm on page 848. I ought to be able to polish it off today.

Olga seemed especially reluctant to go with her dog-walker yesterday. She's never thrilled about it, but this was next-level reluctance. She tried to sit down several times as the walker was leading her toward the door. Now, I walked her yesterday morning when we first got up, so she'd already had some exercise, and she was lying on her bed in the garden -- probably her favorite place in the world -- when he arrived. So I can see why she wasn't hugely motivated.

But I also don't want to FORCE her to go on walks. She's old enough now that they may be painful or uncomfortable for her. So we're going to take her to the vet on Wednesday for a checkup and also to have a conversation about whether we should just stop with the dog-walker. Maybe it's enough for us to take her on a walk each morning and then let her lie around all day and sleep. I need the vet's advice.

Here's a project I completed last week. These cacti and succulents were all living in tiny individual plastic pots on a windowsill at work, and had been for years. (Except the one at upper right, which I brought home and adopted a few years ago.) They were handed out to faculty and staff as gifts long ago, if I remember correctly -- everybody got one -- and I'm sure their original recipients are now gone from the school. They're sort of community property. Anyway, they needed attention.

I brought them all home and put them in this terra-cotta box planter with special cactus and succulent soil that I ordered online. It's like our own little slice of Arizona! I may take them back to work in the fall or I may just adopt them. No one will miss them, I'm sure.

Here's a peculiar scrap of paper I found while walking Olga. I'm not entirely sure what's going on here. A stuffed animal on a bicycle? If I had to guess I'd say it's a photo from a kid's toy camera. Google Image Search couldn't clear up the mystery. What do you think?

Oh, and here's a fun challenge that I picked up from an episode of "Friends" last night: Try to name all 50 states, and time yourself doing it. It's much harder than it seems. I got 45 of them in about four minutes, but it took me another two and a half minutes to figure out which five I was missing!

More Madrid

We're back from Madrid, safe and sound, and I'm now sitting on the couch with Olga snoozing beside me. It was a whirlwind trip for sure, but we got to do the things on my agenda so I was happy.

Yesterday morning, when I went looking for coffee, I walked from Plaza de España down the Gran Vía to the Plaza Mayor, and then over toward the Prado. Remember the Museum of Ham from yesterday's post? Well, I also discovered the Paradise of Ham (above).

I did get coffee pretty easily, by the way. Starbucks in Madrid opens at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning!

You can tell it's LGBTQ Pride season from the advertising posters! I saw lots of rainbow flags too.

I found this stunning building off the Plaza Mayor, with the light hitting it just right.

Dave and I have seen this heart-obsessed graffiti artist before, in Amsterdam! I was amused to find his work in Madrid too. Google Translate says the phrase in the heart means, "there are hidden gifts."

I managed to find the hostel I stayed in when I first visited Madrid in 1994. It looks exactly the same. There are three hostels in this building, one on each floor -- I stayed in the Gonzalo, which is on the third floor with the yellow sign. Memory lane!

I know I seem fixated on reliving my earlier experiences of Madrid, but I'm not sure I adequately conveyed in yesterday's post how transformative that trip was for me. I also didn't mention that at the time I was head-over-heels in love with the friend I traveled with, so there was an added romantic component -- in my mind, anyway -- that made the whole thing magical. Of course I'm 30 years older now and I've been lots of places, so that youthful sense of wonder and possibility isn't the same. But it was still great to see the old sights again. My life is good now, in fact better in many ways, and I am lucky in that regard.

I also passed by the ornate Metropolis building, one of the most famous edifices in Madrid.

From there I walked back to the Plaza de España and picked up Dave, who'd been sleeping in a bit. Then we took the Metro back to a famous spot near the Plaza Mayor for churros con chocolate, a breakfast treat of fried dough dipped in chocolate sauce. We sat out in the square and ate them in the sunshine, watching the police chase off the costumed entertainers -- the gorilla guy from yesterday's post, as well as Bart Simpson, The Joker and others -- who try to cadge pocket change from tourists by posing for photos. I guess they're really not supposed to be out there, or maybe just not at that time.

OMG, that chocolate was AMAZING. Definitely not something you could eat for breakfast every day without dying.

We found a table at a cafe on the square and had coffees while watching the passing parade of humanity, including many tour groups, before finally taking the Metro back to our hotel, picking up our stuff and heading off to the airport.

Terminal 4 of the Madrid Airport is pretty cool, with a wavy roof that casts circular patterns of sunlight on the floors. Our flight back on Iberia was terrible -- we were jammed up against a bulkhead between business and economy class, with very little legroom. In fact our seats were so bad that Dave intends to complain. He and another guy in our row had to sit with their knees in the aisle because they couldn't fit into their seats. It was absurd. (I barely fit, and I was in a middle seat to boot. Fortunately I managed to lose myself in my book and ignore the crying baby behind me.)

Now we have a week of rest before we're off on the next adventure!

Madrid

Well, here we are in beautiful, sunny and very warm Madrid. That's the view from our hotel room, above, overlooking the Calle de la Princesa (which becomes Gran Vía as it bends to the left) and the Plaza de España (the green space on the right). That huge building on the left is the Edificio España, a very fascist-looking 1953 structure that now houses the Hotel RIU. We are staying in the Barceló Torre de Madrid, caddy-corner from the RIU.

I am not blogging from my phone, by the way. Dave brought his computer so I'm using that.

Getting here went smoothly enough, though it was time-consuming. We left home about 7:30 a.m. and got to our hotel just before 4 p.m. (There was a one-hour time change in there as well.) Dave wanted to relax a bit but I prodded him to go with me to the Plaza Mayor, because our time here is short and I wanted to see some sights!

I was last in Madrid in 1994, another lifetime ago. I was in the Peace Corps in Morocco at the time, and I crossed the Strait of Gibraltar on a ferry to meet a friend and tour Spain. I'd never spent any time in Europe up to then, so it was my first encounter with a European city -- cathedrals and narrow streets and historic structures and art, art, art.

I have laughed for years about the restaurant known as the "Museo del Jamon," or Museum of Ham, and I was happy to see this Madrid institution is still going strong.

When I was here the first time, my friend Arthur and I would hang out daily in the Plaza Mayor, so it's the place I most associate with the beauty of Madrid and I was eager to take Dave there. We sat out with a glass of wine and watched the passing throngs. (Including some guy dressed up in a gorilla suit -- definitely not something I saw the first time around!)

We rode the Metro (subway) back to the Plaza España and then walked to our friend Chris's apartment, just across the Manzanares River from the Principe Pio neighborhood. It's about a 20-minute walk from our hotel. 

There we met with our friends Keith and Gordon and Chris and his boyfriend Joan, and had a Spanish-themed meal featuring salted cod, meat-stew croquettes, cheese, olives, and a delicious gazpacho that included cherries, of all things. And a custard-and-cherry tart for dessert. We've been gathering for meals with this same group of friends for years, though usually in London -- this is the first time that Chris, a music teacher in Madrid, hosted us on his own turf.

This was the sunset view from Chris's windows, looking north toward the mountains. The swallows (or swifts? I never know the difference) were swooping and diving all around the building.

I hope to do a little more walking around this morning -- I desperately need coffee, for one thing, but my impression is that Madrid is not an early city, especially on a Sunday. So we'll see how successful I am! And then, back to the airport and home.

Montague Burton

Here's another photo from my walk through Dagenham on Thursday. This old Deco building attracted my attention because, at the top, you can see evidence of its former life.

This was originally an outlet for Montague Burton, "The Tailor of Taste," who -- according to this article about a different Burton building in nearby Barking -- had more than 600 menswear stores by the time he died in 1952. He was an immigrant from Russia who arrived in Britain in 1900 as 15-year-old Meshe David Osinsky. He eventually built a menswear empire by selling ready-to-wear suits, which were less expensive than custom tailored ones, and according to that article the expression "The Full Monty" may stem from his name. He was even knighted in 1931.

Apparently, his Art Deco buildings are known for featuring elephants (I don't see any on this one) and often have engraved foundation stones laid by Burton's family members. More about that here. In this particular case I didn't know to look for those, and it seems they might be covered up by produce shelving anyway.

So, an interesting little glimpse into the past, there!

Dave and I are off to Madrid today. Our friend Warren is staying with Olga, and we had him over for lunch yesterday to re-acquaint him with the flat and with her routines. We had a very American summertime lunch -- steaks, corn on the cob, potato salad and watermelon. But we gave it a British twist with Pimm's!

Warren will only be here for a night, but it's a warm-up for when we leave for South America at the end of the month. Warren will then be on Olga duty for two weeks. We're just happy she can stay here in familiar surroundings, rather than having to go to a kennel or a boarder. She's too old for that.

So, yeah, coming to you from Madrid tomorrow morning! Because it's such a short trip, I'm going to leave my computer behind and try blogging from my phone. We'll see how that goes.