Photo offensive

Sort of ought to go on a photo offensive of London, in case one day I complain: "I wish I'd taken more photos of London when I was there..."



Someone at the apartments has this fancy little Audi sports number.





The largest Hindu temple outside of India is of course in London.




The Lloyds of London building.
As some of you know by now, I love taking upshots of the tops of buildings.


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Friday afternoon I left the grey suit company early and went for the handover with the PA at the art dealer (Mr AD), and after an hour of familiarisation, she left to go on her holiday, and I was thrown in at the deep end.

I finally get to do the things I have been waiting to do, and then I panic. After my first attempt at answering the phone and forgetting what to say, I think I will be fine, though the buttons throw me off still. I also had to call a shipping company to remind them of a needed quote, and then call them again to absolutely ensure that the painting will be in Ireland before next Friday evening to be hung in the dining room for dinner.

I ended up staying until 6.45 pm, with Mr AD, going through various images on the hard drive, assigning them to the correct files and naming them descriptively. The knowledge in his head needs to be organised into a framework. Anyway, when we were done, he said he could tell that I had an ability with the images. I did not know I would stay that long before I started on Monday, though.

Then I wended my weary way to an Aussie party at Ruby Blue, a stylish club with a dance floor, booths, and themed lounges. The group I joined was another going away party where I knew no one, Mr Gorgeous Eyes was at home with tonsilitis, so he gave my number to A.N. a friendly New Zealander who had informed me of the venue that morning. He was at the houseleaving party last week, we weren't introduced and I only glanced at him for 3 seconds in a group before leaving. However, he's the sort who takes you under his wing, so I was introduced to countless people.

The whole group were a mixture including Aussies, Kiwis, Brits, and all very professional, cosmopolitan people, not your stereotypical types. In fact, there were two typical Aussie lads there like the ones in the Fosters beer ads, and they stuck out like sore thumbs.

However, I spent most of my time chatting with a couple of Austrians. One of them reminds me very much of my friend Jason in Houston who is undergoing pilot training at the moment; both clean-cut and straight. He texted me today and we are meeting for a drink tomorrow after work, by the way...We're both going abroad next week so decided to meet up sooner rather than later.

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Not a day goes by when I am not reminded of Houston or Texas - the Austrian is in oil&gas and has been to Houston. Yesterday I watched a load of Animal Cops Houston. Right now I am watching From the Earth to the Moon and seeing Mission Control in Houston. And last night my old roomie asked me yet again when I was going back.

I was recounting to my mother the day my dad took me to the Johnson Space Center in Houston. Until the security measures occasioned by 9/11, they held an annual Open Day. We wandered amongst the buildings, went on mini-tours, saw the original Mission Control, fiddled with a scanning electron microscope thereby withering an ant's antennae, got a big NASA bag and filled it with goodies as we went along, including a bumper sticker I treasured for years, and one of those US Government-issue ballpoint pens they all use. Even 40 years later, there was still a general air of "something happening" within those unassuming 1960s-style buildings.

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