Talk To Me Like The Sea

This was the sunrise on Friday morning, pink and purple slowly giving way to brilliant orange. It lit up the inside of our apartment with the most peculiar golden light.

We're not far from one of the airport flight paths -- I assume it's for Heathrow, which is southwest of us -- so any time I stand at our balcony door I see lines of planes coming and/or going. You can see one in the photo above, far to the right, and there are at least two in the photo below.

As the sky brightened, I got to thinking about a song I loved 20 years ago, "Talk To Me Like The Sea," by Everything But The Girl. I used to have it on a mix tape given to me by my friend Liz while we were in the Peace Corps. I hadn't heard it in ages, but I remembered a line about planes flying out of Heathrow in the early morning light. How appropriate!

At least it seemed so, until I looked up the lyrics to the song, which showed I slightly misremembered them:

We come to fight and dream in this fairground of a town 
Through the sweet and sickly streets from the airless undergrounds 
While the planes fly out of Heathrow taking people late at night 
To where the fields are like Australia in the early morning light

Well, I was close. They still seem like magical words -- poetry evoking distant locales and the excitement of travel. When I first heard them I hadn't been to Heathrow. I certainly never imagined I'd someday live within view -- but thankfully not earshot -- of its flight path.

I'd tried to find this song on iTunes several times, and it was never available -- until yesterday, when I checked and there it was. Now it has taken up residence on my iPod.

Beatles Graffiti

As I've mentioned before, the school where I work is right around the corner from the Abbey Road recording studios and the famous crosswalk where the Beatles shot the photo for the cover of their Abbey Road album. This crosswalk, which I use almost every time I walk to work, is a place of pilgrimage for Beatles fans, and they leave graffiti all over the garden walls along the street.

Most of the graffiti is concentrated in front of the studios themselves, though sometimes it bleeds onto neighboring properties. I suppose I would not be amused if I live there. Or maybe I'd just get used to it.

People generally just scrawl their names, but sometimes things get a little more creative. This person seems to be having some kind of psychotic episode, or maybe just a trippy hallucination.

I've heard that Paul McCartney still lives in the area and apparently he's sometimes seen out and about, and is quite friendly.

Of course it's a ritual for many tourists to pose in the middle of the crosswalk, which is what's known as a zebra crosswalk and requires cars to stop. I'm sure the posing can get annoying for drivers. If I were driving, I think I'd circle the block to avoid this particular spot.

What's with the duck? Do the Beatles sing anything about a duck named Corinne?

Every once in a while Abbey Road Studios repaints their wall and all this graffiti goes away. The stuff I've photographed here is just a few months' worth. Sometimes the vandals hit the surrounding street signs, too, and then the borough council comes along and cleans them up.

I love the international flavor of it all, and the sheer enthusiasm. How many musical acts could still inspire such global devotion 43 years after breaking up?

Christmas Decision-Making

Well, the deed is done. I bought a ticket to go to Florida on Dec. 27, and I'll stay a bit more than a week. I feel really good that I've taken that step, even though the ticket price is killing me. I'd been on the fence about going home anyway, so I'm glad I finally made what I think is the right decision.

We still don't know exactly what's going on with Dad, but it continues to seem that the initial scare may not be as bad as I feared. That doesn't mean he's in good health -- he's had ongoing health issues for years. But perhaps we are not in crisis mode.

I walked to and from work yesterday, which gave me the opportunity for some night photography. It's dark practically all the time now -- from about 4:00 p.m. until about 7:30 a.m. So given my work schedule, if I'm going to take any photos, they'll probably be night shots! Dave had a work dinner to attend, so I sat at home with Olga in the evening and listened to music and had red wine, green pea and mint soup and peanut butter sandwiches, which is my idea of heaven all the way around.

Christmas came early for Olga! She got a groovy new Union Jack dog bed, which she quickly colonized and made her own. You may remember from my photos earlier this week that she had been sleeping on a rather ratty old bedspread. (When she wasn't in our bed, that is.) I've wanted to toss that bedspread for months, but I kept hesitating because she loved it so much. Well, now it's gone, and good riddance.

(Top: Headlights at a crosswalk, St. John's Wood, last night.)

Morning Delays and Interruptions

There are ghosts in the machine this morning. When I turned on Blogger, for some reason, my entire toolbar had disappeared -- I couldn't upload photos or adjust my text or anything. So I fiddled around and tried to look at reported issues, and darned if I could find any kind of help forum, though there may be one. (I know there used to be one.) And then I restarted my computer and behold, the toolbar showed up. Very strange.

Now I'm behind and I haven't even walked the dog yet. *sigh*

I got more news about my dad, and it sounds like things might not be quite as critical as I had feared, but he's still having tests and it's too early to say for sure. I'm still thinking I will go to Florida but I have not yet bought tickets -- Dad suggested I wait for those test results. Dave and I have Christmas plans here that I would like to see through, so maybe I can go right after Christmas and then stay until after New Year's. I can get a personal day or two from work if necessary. We shall see.

I walked to and from work yesterday, and took a walk at lunch, too. It felt good to move around. Every time I walk to work I save £2.80, which is how much my commute costs -- that's equivalent to $4.59 per trip on the tube. Can you believe the freaking tube is that expensive? It's ridiculous. I'm going to try to walk a lot more often.

Olga woke up loudly snorting in the middle of the night, like she had something stuck in her nose. She sounded like a revving engine, and really threw her whole body into it. Dave and I both got up and brought her out to the kitchen and her water bowl, and then Dave took her outside to try to calm her down a bit. She eventually came back to bed and slept, but the whole episode was very weird.

(Photo: A street sweeper in St. John's Wood, yesterday.)

Up in the Air

Not much to tell this morning. I got some sobering news from Florida about my dad's health, so I'm keeping an eye on that and debating whether to buy an airplane ticket for Christmas. Dave and I had decided to stay here in England because of the expense -- tickets at Christmas are ridiculously expensive -- but now I'm thinking I might just take the plunge and go, even if it's just me.

(Photo: Sculpture by Nic Fiddian Green at Economist Plaza, London.)

Earworms and Owls

I am slowly getting back into the London swing of things. While I was in Istanbul I could not get the song "Istanbul not Constantinople" out of my head -- at least it's a good song, but it was still an earworm that was making me crazy. It has now subsided somewhat, a sure sign that I'm getting back to normal. (I almost always have a tune of some kind going through my brain, often subconsciously. At just this moment it's a k.d. lang song, "Sorrow Nevermore.")

This morning I'm off to a book store to try to track down a book for a student. The library ordered it from Amazon but it's on back-order and not due to arrive for more than a month, so I thought I'd try some local shops. It would be nice if she could have it to read during the winter break.

Here is a belated addition to the Wine Zoo -- Horny Owl from South Africa, which we came across in a wine shop on Sunday evening and bought solely for the amusing label. (I'm a very shallow wine buyer. I freely admit it.) Actually it was pretty good!

(Top photo: Doors near Bond Street in Mayfair, the Sunday before Thanksgiving.)

Home Sweet Home

Yesterday Dave and I got up with the morning call to prayer, just before dawn, and by 11 a.m. we were back in London. Everything went smoothly, although we had to run to our plane because we spent a little too much time browsing around the Istanbul airport trying to get rid of our last Turkish lire. We bought one of those blue glass talismans to keep away the evil eye. Maybe it helped us catch our flight on time.

We spent the day on laundry, getting some rudimentary groceries and dog food, and collecting a very excited Olga from the kennel at 5 p.m. Apparently there had been another incident in which she destroyed a child's ball. I did not ask for the specifics.

When we got home from the kennel, Olga ate a special can of food and then immediately crashed in front of the fireplace, sleeping so soundly that I could stand over her with the camera and not wake her. She radiated happiness.

I felt the same way, falling in to bed last night. We ordered pizza and tried to watch "From Russia With Love," parts of which were filmed in a much-less-crowded Istanbul, including a famous scene in that cistern we visited. But I got so sleepy before the end of the movie that I gave up and went to bed, and slept soundly for nine hours.

And now, back to work!