Shite weather, a quick walk and a hovering queen

From birthday to Boxing Day , weather being wet and windy , I have stayed in. Writing letters, watching television, eating pies, generally being reflective and lazy. A forced break. 

Erik phoned on Christmas, everyone at the house for “ Dad’s brunch”. Erik and Dennis went to goodwill , bought schlock Christmas decorations , a plastic tree, and snowman place mats. The table looked ok, if that is your aesthetic and you are five years old. Anyway a  fun father/son bonding experience.

Yesterday I had to get out or go mad. I thought of something I wanted at the toy shop in Covent garden, so that is where I went.

 Nearly everything was sold out but I did find something flat and packable to purchase. A pattern to make and use as a template to make many for Christmas next year. .the juggler in the street performer’s square, shouting and singing loudly through a megaphone, the crowd, clapping and cheering and screaming, had little effect on this guy snoozing through the day. A safe place, a dog cuddled under his blankets, keeping warm. 

From there I went to Saint Martin in the field to use the loo and to see if there was music in the church. There was not but the photo taking was good. As churches go , this one  pleases me. Full of light and goodwill to all.

Wind kicked up and the rain began to come down , like walking under water! I caught the bus back. A few not so great shots from the bus window with my inferior mini pad camera. We make do. 

Good timing. By the time I got back to Spidey hole, the weather howled and dumped and shook the windows!  I thought of Steve and Olga by the sea… pretty sure that Olga was not happy to go out into it. No, this is a pink blanket, stay by the fire day.

Queen E on a hoverboard, keeping calm on a wall near by.. Death, the ultimate calm. I miss her. Charles may be a good king ,he has been well received and his global ,kind, outlook is needed and welcomed. But his merch is not as pretty… and that is how shallow I am! The Charles coins are  homely, as his physiognomy has never been as pretty as his mother’s. Again, shallow, that is how I keep from drowning….These Times!

A cup of tea, another pie, and a squiggle in my moleskin , “Sarah and her cat children.”. Sarah has been overwhelmed with work . I have not seen her over the holidays, contributing to more alone time , more reflection and some measure of sadness . The human condition, the fouled earth nest, our mother…the loss. Of course the wars… we  learn nothing from history, short term memories do not serve us well.

The pallet is from the children’s charity shop. Great tin of watercolors from Germany, good quality. One quid , never had been used. Also packable. 

The weather will be shite for the next week . I may be glad to have something to do other than watch brilliant British television programing! My all time fave is this- 

In the fifties my friend had a  “ round about” in her attic, we spun around for hours. I have not seen one since,  until the repair shop brought one back to life.  It is such a compelling program. The artisan experts are brilliant and compassionate about other’ s broken treasure, they heal  hearts , bring back memories. Stuff is not just stuff! Treasures are not clutter , Marie Kondo! Snap out of it! On we go.

Dry run, posh little neighborhood and birthday

 Steve and I were thinking to meet in Northcote to go to the antique shop there. I decided to check it out first-a dry run. Turns out that was wise of me.

 The shop was full of china , twee cups and saucers. Pricey , too. Nothing of interest. I wandered around the high street. The area  is middle class posh-not at all interesting but wonderful for young wealthy families, it would seem from the fancy pram parade. There was one , only one, homeless guy whose bed room was quite a nice set up in an empty storefront. He was not far , sitting on a wall eating a great looking lunch spread out like a picnic. He was pleasant, the passers by were pleasant. He was well liked and well known. 

One in fifty people are homeless in London, this guy chose a great little pocket to keep himself. 

There are several little indy shops on the street and a Dolphin School where, I am sure, all of the fancy babies go. It all seemed very Stepford, white, homogenized, so, yes, good call on my part, dry run paid off.

Today is the day that my poor mother had to drop the Christmas cookie project and head off into a Winter-in- Wyoming blizzard to the hospital, a nose full of ether and out popped a little sister for the two and a half year old boy being cared for by the neighbors until mom could get back with her new child. Two days before Christmas is a shite time to have a birthday. 

Today I went out -no particular agenda, just the street market and to see what was left in the charity shops, which was fuck all. I wandered down a street that I have not been down, and voila.. happy birthday baby, there was a Gail’s Bakery! I bought a birthday sandwich, two chocolate almond croissants, an onion tart, a sausage roll -brought it all back to the Spidey hole to have a mighty fine birthday nosh. Not all at once , some will be my Christmas nosh as well. 

Now ensconced in a wooly wrap, watching a Christmas movie , staring Emilia  Clarke, Emma Thompson as her Croatian mother… it’s entertaining with just the right amount of schlock, “ Last Christmas “. The big clue about the plot is -last Christmas I gave you my heart…

Tomorrow I may go to Brixton which could go either way- joyful day before or panicky day before. I am banking on JOY. Steel drums , colorful market and singing bible bangers, as baby Jesus would have it. Happy birthday one and all! 

Shopfront floor

Blackfriars bridge, change of agenda, oyster card magic

Amazed at how in mid day I can hop on a bus and for one pound seventy go anywhere fantastic- time travel. It is like dreamworld where you can fly or teleport instantly to somewhere incredible.    I  took the number 40. Which I rarely do, to go to the Tate Modern. When the bus stopped at the get off point, I could see the Tate and started walking toward it, but decided instead to walk across the mighty river ,on Blackfriars bridge. I don’t think it gets enough attention, over shadowed  by other more grand bridges. It was rebuilt from the original 1700’s, for queen Victoria to cheer her up after Albert died. A new rail bridge was also built but the pillars of the old remain, doing nothing, going nowhere.

The bridge is quite a beauty up close, each pier, where one can sit or look out, is pulpit shaped in reference to the monks, the Blackfriars, with carved sea creatures and birds on the bases. Each different from the other. 

The Thames, 66 feet deep, turbulent undercurrent , freezing cold, too wide to swim to shore if you fell from the edge of this bridge…feels to me like it would not take much  of a bump to topple  over and into the river, the sides are low. Too short for safety. I pretty much ran across the bridge out of anxiety . Cold wind and rain also encouraged me to move more quickly. 

So, I am on the other side of my intended destination.. I know, I will just walk up to Saint Paul’s to see the pigeons. 

Turn right on Pilgrim street and head in the general direction of the dome.

The fee to get in the front door is expensive. I have been in , for free, in 2017, when I went to the memorial service for Michael Bond, author of Paddington Bear. Along with about  300 others, as well as the actors from the paddington films.  Hugh Bonneville, Steven Frye and Michael’s granddaughter read from the books , it was joyous and sweet and well mannered. After coming from the cathedral, going down the stairs ,I , without realizing until later was walking in tandem , three hands away from a good hand shake ,with Mr. Bonneville. Then I dashed off to find a shop selling Paddington bears. They were all sold out. All of that just to say that I did not go in, I only went down below, to the crypt and gift shop, where I bought a little god thing for Fresca. 

Used the loo, warmed up, wandered around the immediate area a bit.. looked at art everywhere. Found the number 40 , as the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. Chasing down the bus warmed me up.. I walked farther than I intended. In my usual direction challenged way I got turned around. 

Shepherd and his flock, by Elisabeth Frink.

Below , a massive work by, Thomas Heatherwck.

Back to the spider hole as  night descended, hot water bottle and a cup of tea . How lucky I feel. Like I won all of the lotteries. 

I dare not watch or listen to the news .

Charity shopping with the best, eating poo shaped lunch, a fancy lizard

Wandering with Steve, our favorite blogger , Olga’s dad. Steve made his way to the spider hole, looked around , noted the cuteness factor of the flat itself , the obsession with Peter Parker’s radiated bug bite, super power arthropod , in a muscle revealing sexy skin tight  Spidey suit, decor fit for a fourteen year old lad, questionable for a man in his mid  40’s . 

A chat, a quick look around ,that took all of three seconds,, and off we went , out into the weather. 

The mirror at the charity shop is a splendid thing . I would have it if I lived closer to London than to mount Rainier. Neither of us made a purchase in this shop, though there was a bit of catch and release. I  am limited by one bag travel, Steve is limited by common sense. His skills in editing are admirable. 

Another catch and release in the children’s charity shop a few doors down - Steve found this magnificent lizard, a difficult one to put back on the shelf. 

Finally, spending a little time in Steve’s good company. People should not have to work, you know, specially  when friends from afar are in town. Should be a law. 

( speaking  of law, news f the day, Colorado stepped up , banning trump from the ballot in their state. That may be the wave that takes him out. Heightened hope. Maybe I will return to a nation that has miraculously snapped out of its self destruction)

After checking a couple more shops ,we ducked into  East Dulwich pub for lunch and a pint. The fire invited us to the back room of animal heads, baubles , wooden clothes hangers and a broken telephone body.  I have missed my calling- probably too late for me to set up an interior design business in London. 

Steve sensibly ordered a safe and predictable cheeseburger. 

I, on the other hand , ordered my usual pub fare, sausage and mash. This came as a surprise, fished fresh from the loo? Though the presentation was off putting ,   it was delicious, eyes closed. 

The only purchase I made was this wooden puppet that can fit into my sock. I wish I had Steve around more often to modify by example.  Grateful for time spent in his company. As you know, he is fun and lovely , and have I mentioned “sensible”? , Hoping for more time after the new year , maybe to see Olga and Dave and to eat something prettier than intestine shaped pork.

Another day closer to returning to the PNW, where the rain is equal to London  but less wet. I better get busy planning another trip. 

 

Bronze stumps, milk squirts and a darling child

“oh that’s a shame, trees cut down …” I had to know what caused this tree butchery. Glad I checked. The stumps are pretty amazing, perfect on closer inspection, more perfect than its inspiration!  I kicked one to be sure. Yep, bronze! 

 I had seen the stones a few years ago , took their photo with my real camera. The quality of that one vs. this one just does not compare, but here you go anyway. 

Aren’t they grand! Rocks rock, I want one of these  but I think it is illegal to take on virgin air. Wouldn’t one of these make a great headstone ! I do have some rocks packed, the ones I pocketed from Dungeness with Sarah and Andy. I looked up country no-no’s , gathering stones from a UK beaches  is one. I will take my chances. I thought about mailing them but that is even more stringent.  I may go to airport jail for my love of rocks.

I went inside to view Ruben’s portraits and drawings. It is small gallery, doable in about a half hour, depending . Ruben’ s drawings appealed to me most, and his clear fascination for breast feeding women and hermaphrodites. He was so ahead of his time. More advanced / accepting than the weirdo society we live in today

Man woman.

Here are a couple of drawings that photographed ok. Most did not, faint lines and an inadequate iPad.

If I started drawing classically instead of from a comic book  , I might be able to draw convincingly…just like this! Might take several lifetimes - how delicious and satisfying  would be the reward.   

Nothing going on today, the sun is out so a walk to the park may be the excitement for today. Not sure what the day holds. I got up at 4:30 am to chat with Dennis and to acknowledge the latest email from Spidey. Nutty.

Leaving you with this too-sweet-for-words painting. Model for the child was Ruben’s infant. 

Oh, and a dog. Have a lovely Sunday !