Rainy Day Disorientation

That was the view early yesterday morning from our hotel room window. Not exactly optimal beach weather, and in fact it got worse after I took the picture! You can see my Suzanne Vega tour t-shirt on the chair. I thought as an image it summarized our quick trip very well.

We had a late-morning breakfast -- a brunch, really -- at a place called The Breakfast Club that I'd photographed on a previous trip. They even had American-style pancakes!

Not exactly Denny's, but close. Often in England when pancakes are on the menu they're these skinny, crepe-like things, so we were happy to see these. I got caught up in the American atmosphere and ordered coffee, and the waitress asked in a not entirely pleasant way, "What kind of coffee?" And then I realized I had to specify Americano or Espresso or whatever, because we're still in Europe and plain old brewed coffee is not really a thing. What was I thinking?!

Anyway, we lingered at The Breakfast Club for a while before braving the rainy walk to the train station and catching a train straight back to West Hampstead, which is about as convenient as possible. I read "The Old Curiosity Shop" on the way.

Stickers on the back of a street sign in Brighton

We were slightly disoriented (or "disorientated," as people say here) all day, sitting at home on a random Wednesday afternoon; between that and Sunday's time change I never felt quite normal. I was happy to go to bed and wake up this morning back on my daily routine -- although I have to be at work half an hour early today as I'm being "interviewed" by a seventh-grade class for a project.

Speaking of work, on Tuesday I had a funny experience when I saw a fifth-grade girl come into the library and slip a book into the book return. Something about her looked sheepish, so I promptly retrieved the book and it was sopping wet. I don't just mean damp, or partly wet. I mean it looked like it had spent the night in a full bathtub.

I showed my co-worker and we had a good laugh about what would possess a kid to put a wet book in the book return, on top of what could have been (but fortunately wasn't) a bunch of other books. I could have chased her down or contacted her parents about paying for it, but it was just a little paperback that I think was a donation anyway, so I decided to let the whole thing go. I deleted the book and threw it away. Moving on!

The Vega Show

Well, here we are in Brighton. We've seen our concert and now we have half a day to wander around town, have a leisurely brunch and then catch the train back to London. The weather isn't exactly cooperating, as it's pretty damp out there, but I can't have everything and this is England in almost-November.

Dave and I worked full days yesterday and then promptly headed for Victoria station, where we caught a train that brought us to Brighton in just over an hour. We had sandwiches on the train, so all we had to do here was check into our hotel and then head to the theater.

We passed the ghost projection above, swirling on the sidewalk in front of the Theatre Royal. That's not where our concert was, though -- it was across the street at the Brighton Dome, part of the fanciful Royal Pavilion complex. The inside of the theater featured Indian (from India) style arches and architectural elements; it was a cool place to see a show.

The music began at 7:30 p.m. with opening act Katherine Priddy, a singer and acoustic guitarist, and we caught most of that. Suzanne Vega took the stage with her two accompanists, a guitarist and a cellist, soon afterwards.

As I said in yesterday's post, I've been a fan of Vega since the 1980s. I think my college friend Lorenzo first introduced me to her music, back when she only had one album. Now she has ten albums and a long career behind her, including radio hits like "Luka" and "Tom's Diner." She's 66, so she's several years older than me, but I still feel like we've grown up together. I first saw her in concert 35 years ago, and most recently (before last night) 18 years ago, which blows my mind!

For those of you who may know her songs, here's the set list from last night's show:

Marlene on the Wall
99.9 Fº
Caramel

Small Blue Thing
Gypsy
In Liverpool
The Queen and the Soldier
Flying With Angels
Speaker's Corner

Chambermaid
Left of Center
I Never Wear White
Some Journey
Luka
Tom's Diner

Encores:
Walk on the Wild Side
Alley
Galway

Some of those are from her newest album, which I haven't yet heard, and I hope I got all the titles right! I was happily surprised to hear her play "Walk on the Wild Side," because she usually sings her own songs rather than covering someone else's, but apparently she regularly performs that one as a tribute to her late friend Lou Reed.

Here's a very brief 40-second snippet of her performing "Tom's Diner," the hit DNA version with a beat (as opposed to her original song, which was a capella.)

After the show we walked back to the hotel, past the decorative doorways of the building known as the Corn Exchange (above). Now, I'm off to find some morning coffee!

Deo

Here are the neighborhood pigeons, roosting once again in the walnut tree in our garden. You can see how the autumn colors have deepened since I took a similar photo in September. The Japanese maple is blazing more and more red and the walnut is gradually yellowing.

I made a discovery which, although touching on an unsavory subject, might be useful for you all to know. Remember how I mentioned that I found myself wearing a slightly odiferous sweater the other day? Well, the truth is, both I and the sweater were odiferous, and here's why. Some time ago, I bought two new sticks of deodorant -- Sure, my usual brand, in identical green plastic containers. I used one of the sticks and it was fine. When it ran out, I moved to the other, and I thought, "Hey, this one seems slightly different." I didn't give it much thought until one or two days later -- the day of the sweater.

I discovered that I'd inadvertently bought something called "Sure Whole Body Deo," which is not the same as regular anti-perspirant. In Sure's own words, "Traditional deodorants, especially antiperspirant deodorants, are designed to tackle body odor at its root by blocking sweat glands and reducing skin bacteria. Body sprays, on the other hand, are akin to perfumes, offering a fragrant cover-up for odors with a blend of herbs, oils, and spices."

(This was not a spray, but I assume the product is similar however it's delivered.)

So basically I'd bought something that was not my regular deodorant -- that "covers up" odors rather than blocking them. BEWARE the "Whole Body Deo"! That's my useful consumer information for the day.

Dave and I are off to Brighton this evening to see Suzanne Vega in concert. I've seen her live a couple of times, once back in 1990 during her tour for her album "Days of Open Hand," and again in 2007, a show I blogged about. (She also showed up as a surprise guest at a Christmas benefit concert I attended that same year.)

I've been a longtime fan so I'm looking forward to this. I bought the tickets way back in May so thank goodness I didn't forget. We'll stay overnight in Brighton and we've taken tomorrow off work, so we don't need to rush home. I hope we can have a leisurely morning by the sea!

A Mostly Sunny Walk to Edgware

After spending all of Saturday in the house, I decided I needed some exercise and a change of scenery. So yesterday I grabbed the big camera and headed north along Edgware Road for a good, long photo walk.

I trekked through the neighborhoods of Kilburn, Cricklewood, Colindale, Burnt Oak, Edgware and Canons Park. I've been up that way before but it's been years. As you can see above, I was lucky enough to have sunshine for the first part of my walk, and although it was chilly out it felt good.

 I stopped at the Welsh Harp Reservoir, which has recently undergone a massive cleanup that involved draining the water, relocating fish and gathering tons of rubbish. I was glad to see it once again full of water and if the birds are any indication, it has been restocked with plenty more fish (as was the plan).

Here are a couple of other fun snapshots I grabbed along the way:

Free perfume/cologne, anyone? I don't wear any of that stuff so I left it behind. (I can't even tell if it's meant for a man or woman, or maybe there's a mix of both?)

A curious name for an apartment building. "Holocene" is the name of our current geological age, but it also stems from the Greek words for "all new," so maybe it's named that because it's a new building?

Mysterious graffiti in Colindale. There is no beach nearby, though I suppose if you head in any direction for long enough you'd eventually hit one.

In Edgware I stopped by St. Margaret's Church, which has an interesting graveyard that provides a green oasis in the middle of an otherwise quite developed area. There were wildflower plantings (mostly gone to seed now), a frog pond, an "insect hotel" and other ecological features, as well as historical gravestones, with the graves of former soldiers marked with red poppies.

Across the very busy road -- where it was impossible to take a picture without cars, though I did try -- is the historic but troubled Railway Hotel. It closed in 2006 and although plans for its renovation were announced more than five years ago it remains mostly shuttered.

From the Canons Park tube station, I caught the Jubilee Line straight back to West Hampstead. All told I walked about eight miles. (According to the health app on my phone, I took 2,153 steps on Saturday, and 20,972 yesterday!)

Potato Horror Show

We have a long, narrow window in one of our bathrooms, and maybe a year ago I put a pot with some cuttings from our "wandering dude" plant on the windowsill. As you can see, it has prospered to the point that it has outgrown that little niche. I think it's taking over the world. I'm not sure where it's headed next but it is creeping out into the room.

At left, in the frame, you can see that odd face mask I found on the beach in Vietnam.

Yesterday I started my annual Charles Dickens autumn reading project. This year I've chosen "The Old Curiosity Shop," which I know absolutely nothing about. I just like the name because I love a thrift store, and if Charles Dickens is writing about his era's equivalent of a Goodwill, well, that sounds pretty interesting. Then I made the mistake of reading the introduction by the Earl of Wicklow, from 1950, in which he revealed several significant spoilers. For example, he assumes (SPOILER ALERT!) that we know going into the book that Little Nell dies, but personally, I would have preferred to find that out at Dickens' pace.

I spent some time in the garden cutting down some spent Michaelmas daisies and tucking another dahlia into the shed for its winter nap. I also put our garden cam back out again -- I took it down last week, thinking I'd take a break from it, but I've been missing the antics of my wild critters.

Oh, and I got confirmation that my voluntary redundancy contract has been signed by the school, so that is that -- I am officially retiring as of April 15. Six more months to go! It's hard to believe.

I discovered a bag of potatoes in our pantry that, let's just say, had been there a while. When I opened it, this horrific scene awaited. Halloween-worthy, right? I mean, those are just fleshy roots, but still -- pretty gross. I am the king of finding ways to eat food that's a bit past its prime, but these were too far gone even for me. Into the compost bin they went.

In the evening, Dave and I watched "A House of Dynamite," Netflix's new movie by Kathryn Bigelow about a possible nuclear attack on the United States. It's a riveting moment-by-moment account of how such an event might unfold among the primary players, but the ending was maddening. I had a few quibbles with it -- for example, some fighter pilots were shown scrambling and then flying in their jet, presumably to surveil (or shoot down?) the incoming missile, but nothing ever came of them. And it was never explained -- at least, not to my satisfaction -- why the most obvious way to address the predicament (waiting) wasn't viable. I can't say any more without giving the plot away.

It's been a good movie weekend. On Friday we watched an old Shepperton Studios film from 1960 called "City of the Dead" starring Christopher Lee. Q-Anon Anonymous -- a podcast I follow that critiques conspiracy thinking -- did an episode on this film, which was ultimately about witchcraft, and though it is strictly a B-movie in the Saturday afternoon "Creature Feature" vein, I enjoyed it.

Do you want some happy reading? Check out:

-- The story of Ray Ray the cat, who stowed away among the luggage on top of the family car when his owners went for a road trip from Pennsylvania to New Hampshire. They found him unscathed after about 100 miles of driving.

-- The story of Kiki the disabled sheep, who cannot walk but has a custom-made cart she can steer and operate with her head to move around. She has become something of a star both at the animal refuge where she lives and on social media. (Admittedly, this one is bittersweet, and I think there's quite a bit of anthropomorphizing going on in interpreting Kiki's behavior, but still -- she's lucky to be alive and mobile. It seems insane that we eat perfectly healthy lambs and then go to such lengths to help a sick one, but no one ever said humans are free from moral contradictions.)

Both of those should be gift-article links accessible to non-subscribers, so I hope they work for you.

Faint Praise

Our pink Thanksgiving cactus is finally blooming, and as you can see from the buds there are lots of flowers still on the way. We have no open blooms yet on the plants that produce white or salmon-colored flowers, but it's only a matter of days.

I had a funny conversation with a student yesterday. One of the middle school boys is very into photography, and he knows I take pictures too, so he often comes to me with questions or observations about cameras. He's one of these kids who's intrigued by using film, which as I've said is a complete mystery to me -- I think being unburdened by the restrictions and hassles of film is one of the best developments in my life, and I mean it. But anyway, at some point I showed him one of my photography books, which I'd donated to the library years ago. He and I talked about street photography and he made some observations about a few of the pictures.

Yesterday he brought a friend to the library and showed him my book, and he came to me about 20 minutes later and said, "You know, Mr. Reed, when I first saw your photography I thought it was only so-so. But now I've looked deeper into the book and I've decided it's really good!"

Now, this boy is likely to say anything, and with a directness that can be downright painful. But I thought that was pretty funny. I'm glad he has decided I'm not merely mediocre.

It's hard to believe I put together my last book ten years ago. (Not counting one I did a few years back of my dad's photos from his Europe trip in 1957.) Maybe once I retire I'll compile another book. An Olga retrospective? I don't do as much street photography as I used to before I had a full-time job, but I could see picking it up again when I have more spare time. I remember that was one of my hesitations about starting work in the library in the first place -- that it would cut into my photography. But it's not like photography was making me any money!

As long as I'm on a roll talking about childhood stuff, as I have in several recent posts, here's another memory that came to me the other day. You know I'm a fan of book covers, having posted about good ones, bad ones and some that once belonged to my mom.

Well, I got to thinking about a copy of Arthur C. Clarke's novel "Childhood's End" that I owned when I was a teenager in the early '80s. I don't think I ever actually read the book, but I remember buying it based on the slick, futuristic cover art. I wondered if I could find an image of it online, and the answer, of course, is yes!

I'm pretty sure that's the cover at left, though there's a very similar, slightly earlier version with a less stylized typeface, and I might have owned that one. In any case, the illustration was the same. It's nice to see it again, and I was amused to find this cover made enough of an impression on another blogger that he also wrote a short ode to it. (In fact that's his image of the cover, at left, which hopefully he won't mind me reposting here.)

Once again, it's funny how some things make such a deep impression on our memories when we're young.

Ifalik

This has appeared on a doorway on Finchley Road. It seems an appropriate thing to see as I walk to and from work, since that's about how I feel by the end of most days!

Nothing much to tell about yesterday -- more book covering, book repairing, shelving, wrangling little kids in the Lower School, etc. A typical day. I wore a gray sweater to work that I'd worn in Penzance, and I became aware about halfway through the day that it didn't smell very fresh. Don't you hate it when you suddenly realize that people might be cringing as you walk away from them, wondering if your shower is out of order? That made me self-conscious for the rest of the day.

After posting my old school certificates the other day I began thinking about another episode from elementary school. I remember we did a unit in the fourth grade about a remote coral atoll in the Pacific. I couldn't immediately remember the name, but it eventually came to me -- Ifalik. I haven't thought about this in years, but I remember being very interested in life on Ifalik, which seemed like a tropical paradise with a lagoon and people eating breadfruit and that kind of thing. There was a lot of emphasis on the breadfruit.

I got to wondering why kids in rural Florida spent multiple days learning about life on Ifalik. I suppose it's just as valid as learning about life in India or Germany or anywhere else, and in fact Ifalik -- as part of the Caroline Islands in Micronesia -- was a territory administered by the United States at the time. So maybe that made it even more relevant, as a far-flung part of our own country. (It has since become independent.) I did some Googling to see if anyone else on the interwebs mentioned this specific memory from school.

I didn't find any first-hand accounts, but I did find a "Teacher's Guide to Economic Concepts" for fourth to sixth graders from 1975. On page 101, under "Division of Labor: Specialization: Interdependence," it listed a fourth grade textbook called "Regions Around the World." Page 74 of that textbook is summarized this way: "Ifalik is isolated. Its contacts with the world beyond the reef are very limited. The people meet most of their needs with things that are found on the atoll."

So my guess is, we were using that textbook. And maybe I remember the breadfruit so prominently because the whole point was to study the economy of Ifalik, which would have concerned labor and food production. It's funny what sticks in our heads, isn't it?

Addendum: Here's a post from a travel blogger who more recently visited Ifalik and a nearby island, and has some excellent photos of life there.