A Palm Pilot...

...or a personal secretary? Is that too much to ask?

I've started double-booking myself! Aaaaaarrrrrgh!

Problem 1: On Wednesday I agreed to see Shiho on Saturday afternoon, but as I did so something didn't feel right, until I realised after hanging up that I had the housemates' dinner that evening.
Solution 1: See Shiho in the day and go home for the dinner.
(Keep in mind that average travel time anywhere in London is an hour, so afternoons get eaten up pretty quickly.)

Problem 2: Today I booked my second Alexander Technique class for Tuesday morning, again the nagging feeling. I had promised to see my grandmother that day just in case my uncle's widow turned up as she said she might. Might being the operative word here.
Solution 2: Go to Amma in the afternoon?

Problem 3: Friday I have a free makeover at BeneFit in Selfridges, merely for owning one of their products! Does anyone know if I have anything else to do on Friday?
Solution 3: Find somewhere to go, since my face will be all prettied up!

**********

I went to the Alexander class today. I now have a headache because I have been subtly realigned.
I was complimented for neatly summarising exactly what an AT instructor would say to define the technique and its benefits, and for being aware enough to "catch myself out" with bad postural and mechanical habits. Apparently that is rare.
Furthermore, relieved that I had studied anatomy & physiology so he didn't have to translate his terms, the instructor searched for the freedom of my spine, kept setting my head on that plateau: the sternocleidomastoid muscles - the large muscles on the side of the neck - are NOT supposed to support the head and are not even needed to turn it.

I was stood on my feet, sat on a stool, and laid on a couch, all with proper alignment. I had to think about it, be aware of everything around me, and do the allowing so he could do the moving. For the head, think upwards. Even when you sit, don't just slump into it, instead you have to still think upwards as you bend your knees and sit, straighten your knees and stand.

What's the word? When something is at its most efficient setting?
Oh for heaven's sake - and I used to be the walking dictionary - oh! Check out my new activities sidebar --->
I did it for some of you especially, hope you like it.

...Optimal. That's the word.

*sigh*

Perdu

Minou minou minou....oh my Muse where are you...?

Hm. No answer.

Hi!

If you've come looking for a new post, I am not sure if you will find one. But I might surprise you, specially if I keep up this stream of consciousness lark...

**********

Last year I bought The Bloomsbury Book of the Mind by Stephen Wilson. I devoured it, but have recently picked it up again and might as well be reading it for the first time!
It's the sort of book that will take about 3 reads until any of it is absorbed into my repertoire.

I kid you not, Delightful must be the first self-generating encyclopedia I have ever known...I am quite likely to be contradicted on this, as some people can be shockingly modest - but I have met some high IQs in my time and I know what I am talking about.

Uncanny

I've just put in the DVD Closer. I swear, Jude Law looks just like my uncle Lawrence, just take away the glasses and give him curlier hair!
Wow...

So where was I? Last night I watched Head in the Clouds with Charlize Theron and Penelope Cruz. It's about a love triangle in the late 1930s and WWII in England and Paris.

Tonight, Closer.
Oh, and next, Alfie. Two Judes.

OK, so there is a sordid internet chat scene in Closer between two strangers. (That doctor fellow is detestable throughout.) Anyway, it's related to a thought I've often had about the people you know and trust - they could be replicating that scene any day. It has happened to someone I love and resulted in a huge life change.

This is a scary intense movie...I am suddenly watching drama with new eyes.

Sometimes I think the Internet has necessitated and generated more lies between people than ever before. Broken more marriages and ended more relationships...with its lure of wholesale wantonness and profligate availability.

Was that a life moment?
Maybe since I started blogging the moments are no longer as intense feelings as they once were because they have become words.

Maybe...if I stopped blogging I'd be a more intense person...
Maybe...this angsty post belongs on Motime...
Aie! This was worse than politics. Sorry. But - policy of Olivia: I never delete a post.

And every time I accuse my muse of abandoning me, I blog twice!

At a blogloss

...This hasn't happened in a while. My muse has other things to deal with and hasn't yet learned how to multitask.

Ooh! Just turned on the TV and here is something I have often discussed since returning to the UK. Paraphrasing the presenter:

• Americans have such a genuine love of England, so when they come here, why do they get such a frosty reception?

• It has become de rigeur to hate Americans.

• An American walking into a bar in Glasgow vs a Brit walking into a bar in Des Moines.

I've always called the British contempt of America as envy of their success as a nation - and bingo! He said it. Jealousy of their success and national pride.

• Indeed many Americans may be overweight. But America also invented "working out".
• 
  
• Re: American stupidity: sending a man to the moon and winning the most Nobel Prizes requires some intelligence.
  

So how much do Brits know about America? No one on the street could name the year it gained independence (1776), the first president (George Washington), or the year the USA entered WWII (1941).
Just after stating that most Americans are stupid, one gentleman claimed he knew more about America than the average Brit. His wife piped up thinking independence was won in the 1750s. He tried to correct her, saying it was earlier.

So, no laughing next time you encounter a Yank wandering around the West End asking for Lysester Square.

I've tried my best to keep politics out of this, and in fact deleted my last two paragraphs. My blog is not a forum, rather an oasis and a refuge from the daily grind. I have made the mistake of discussing politics here once before and ended up gritting my teeth over the responses.

Don't make me grit my teeth

Life Moments

I used to get what I call "life moments" a lot in university. It is a passing epiphany when all the mists clear for an instant before returning to shroud life's questions and truths.
They were always more of a feeling than a thought. A realisation at soul-depth that I could never put into words, but which hopefully still became a part of my consciousness.

I was reminded by this while listening to Keane last night:

For a moment your eyes open and you know
All the things I ever wanted you to know
I don't know you and I don't want you
'Til the moment your eyes open and you know

**********

[Exeunt Summer]?

Today we are in the grip of what the Yanks call a 'Norther'. Blustery gusts rip the air from our nostrils as we walk, wrapped in insufficient summer layers, dodging the leaves rustling around on the pavement. Taken by surprise, all our warm clothing is still packed in suitcases under our beds.

Last week we were sweltering in welcome late-summer temperatures and now this. The sash windows are back to rattling in protest....Is summer over?

**********

I enjoy writing - won't say I love it. I used to write letters in my head in the Days Before Email. Now I write emails in my head, in the Days After Letters...

Thinking out loud here:
You know they say you should keep what you love as a hobby; you need an escape from work.
Writing something you're inspired about is easier than writing an assignment. Unless, of course, it's your own column or book.

I give in...I am being encouraged on all sides to find a writing job. Art history would be perfect. Ah, now being a food critic was the latest idea and that stirs my soul. (Thank you especially to Sun young, Delightful and Vanessa.)

**********

I don't want to lose myself a spot at this place, but have you ever heard of Danceworks? Wow to the nth degree!
Any dance you can think of, they offer as exercise. Yoga, Pilates, ballet, kickboxing, salsa...the list goes on and there are some I have never even heard of.
They also have an attached holistic therapy centre called Natureworks. Massage, counseling, osteopathy, the Alexander technique.
Monthly membership goes for...you'll never guess...£7.99! Individual classes range from £4-10. They have been there since 1982. Why have I never heard of them before?

I might start with the Eyerman technique, to find out where I need improvement on posture, breathing, alignment, tension, stress. Then perhaps the Alexander Technique to work on them because if I'm not handling myself properly and start a dance class I'll do more damage than good.

Yoga would be good for my breathing and flexibility but I will not subscribe to any of the mysticism attached to it.
Ballet...I have regretted giving it up for so many years and it chafes me every time someone tells me I have a dancer's body.
A couple of friends have encouraged me to learn tango; I do need to learn how to dance. Maybe I'll just do tasters until I find a style that floats my boat.

Nothing high-impact for me and my little bones, but I do need to work on cardiovascular endurance, muscular tone, bone strength - and overall well-being :) :) :)

Bon Voyage V

Vanessa flew home this morning. Because she would have had to get up at 5am, she didn't bother going to bed. So neither did I, except for an hour while she showered and packed.

This is what it was like being her roommate for nearly 3 years. And it is amazing, the things you find to do in the wee hours, and I still haven't retrained myself. Apart from writing essays or reading chapters, there was: Downloading from Napster (this was back in the good old days); singing with all my heart; hanging out in the lounge where everyone else was studying, and distracting them; dragging them out for waffles and pancakes at midnight. I would sleep properly, in blocks of time and maybe catch an afternoon nap. V often slept on her textbooks - if only we could absorb knowledge through osmosis, eh? - then wake up and read for a few minutes, sleep again, and so on, until her alarm went off. Egad!
(Yes, Vanessa, you will laugh at this and is there anything you care to add?)

Next thing I knew, I heard a chipper voice: "Good morning, Miss Olivia!" and opened my eyes to see V zipping up her suitcase. I had to go down to let her out the front door and see her off into the drizzle. Looks as if she took our summer away with her. As if Houston needs any more of it.

I didn't get much sleep after that, so spent the day feeling half drugged. Went grocery shopping in a daze. Napped in the afternoon, and then felt even weirder. Ever had one of those days?

I am going to put my latest pictures up soon, so keep your eyes peeled...

Owwww / The City

V's mother (Z) and her mother's partner (G) arrived in London from Houston on Tuesday morning. It was our job to find them a place to eat, and show them around on their first day.

Unfortunately for me, as the day wore on, I limped more and more and the pain worsened (some sort of ankle injury from the St Alban's walking). It was so bad I figured it could only get better.

We took them from their hotel in Bayswater to lunch at Selfridges, then on to Westminster, the bridge, Big Ben struck 3, a wander around the Abbey, then up Horseguards to Downing Street.
Then I took everyone to Richmond for the best fish and chips in town - where G bought a brace for my ankle, which helped a lot, and gave me two Advil.

Then we each went home.

**********

Today V and I went into the City, a little bit late. We'd wanted to go to the Geffrye Museum (the history of interior design), but by the time we got there it would be closed, so instead we wandered into Broadgate Circle. There was a Castrol GT promotion, with a few Royal Bank of Scotland racing cars parked in the centre, loads of screens and people in green outfits handing out opportunities to take a racing lesson with a famous driver. We grabbed deux pains au chocolat, I had a spicy chai, and we sat and watched the people leaving their offices for the day. "Rush hour" takes on a whole new meaning when it involves actual bodies rushing at you - when you're going completely against the flow.

We took a walking tour of the City - Royal Exchange, Bank of England, Natwest Tower, Swiss Re (gherkin), Number One Poultry, Lloyds of London, and who knows what else? We walked far enough that we entered into the edge of Islington and found a game of lawn bowling on a green in Finsbury Circus (?)
We sat and watched for a quarter of an hour, then I sent V home and made my way to Highgate.

You see, on the hill
Is a quaint turreted house
'Tis quite a Delightful mystery...

Mmmmm Monday

I am running out of patience with the alliterations. So, Mmmm and Monday both start with M, right?

The world is an interesting place, by the way.

Sunday was truly lazy, and I needed a rest from Saturday. We looked at pictures, caught up with emails, I showed V my degree and my thesis which she is now reading. Then in the afternoon we went to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. She thought it was cute. I still like Willy Wonka. He's just...weird...

Anyway, V and I wanted to go to Eltham Palace today, but we'd gone into town pretty late to find tickets for Guys and Dolls. We succeeded somewhat. Nothing was available but standing on the back row for £15 each. We went for it, no other opportunity.

We got on the bus to the V&A and wandered around the costume department (admiring the neatness of Queen Maud's figure), and the Chinese and Japanese galleries. My favourites are inro, netsuke and lacquer boxes. Drooool. If I had to be a collector of Asian objets d'art, these would be my specialty.

Sun young, my Korean ex-housemate always told me that in a former life I must have been Japanese. I don't know, I could have been Chinese too.
On the other hand, my inner European is Italian (I took the test!)

Then we walked into Soho and Ton yan gai (oh come on people, you know this by now...) where we ate at a little hole in the wall place for a small dinner. I was a little apprehensive as there were not enough actual Chinese people there. V had a nice shredded duck and vermicelli. I had spicy squid and rice. I need the spice.

Chili chocolate is something I ought to try right about now. I never get the chocolate buzz that most women experience. My endorphins come from hot stuff!

**********

I have ankle pain from the walking in St Albans, despite my comfortable shoes. Maybe I ought to try learning the Alexander Technique. It's all about alignment and what part of the body leads each movement.

I just walk with the pain, no slowing down, but when we left the performance after all that standing - and unconsciously I had been standing on tiptoes a lot - I wanted to hobble :(

**********

I already blogged about the 3rd row viewing of Guys and Dolls, but there are other aspects to the standing experience of it. V and I got to jiggle and jive in the dark at the back! It was fun. But the attendants were really anal about us sitting on the floor during the intermission. None of the other 16 people attempted it.

The important thing was that Vanessa saw it and enjoyed herself.
Songs that stick with me:
I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck...
Luck be a lady tonight
Sit down, you're rockin' the boat...

Many of you will probably recognise the last two songs. Reminds me, I need to post a couple of verses that have been languishing in my blog queue for the past couple of weeks.

Goodnight all.

**********
Cobbler's Shop

Little pair of shoes
Specially made
Soft and gentle
As yet unworn
Unchosen up on the shelf
No one willing to break them in

**********
J'ai besoin d'un mouchoir

I need a handkerchief
A little one nicely edged
Not big enough to contain
The promised city of Florence
But that's OK
I'm not getting it after all

**********

Soulful Saturday

After going to bed at nearly 4am (what's new?) I actually woke up at 9.30am!

Lunch at Maison Blanc and then off to St Alban's for V and me. It's barely half an hour north of London from King's Cross. I'd been on a Christie's field trip to the Abbey and Verulamium (the Roman town) but because it was raining we didn't notice a thing until we got inside the cathedral.

We walked through the bustling market place and grabbed a snack barely 2 hours after lunch, which we ate on the grass behind the cathedral. We went into the walled herb garden and I (figuratively) rolled around in the lavender, rosemary and sage while Vanessa chased bumblebees with her camera.
Then we regrouped and went in for Evensong at 4pm. We sat in the Quire, and to see and hear the choristers reminded me why I want my son to use his voice, for have one he will if he's like my grandfather (and maybe me).

Every setting and anthem was perfect, all from before the 18th century. I was touched when they sang Psalm 16, but by the time they got to Psalm 17 I had to get out the tissues.
(I have not been to an Evensong in many moons.)
After that we wandered around the cathedral looking at the crumbling Saxon wall frescoes and Gothic groin vaults, catching artistic photos in interesting corners.

Soon we struck out behind the cathedral onto Verulam park. Duck pond, Roman Wall, pretty bridge. It is a beautiful and peacefully rolling ground in low Hertfordshire. Nearly a world away from London.
Cheeky ducks, naughty geese, majestic swans. We ended up all the way out at St Michael's Street all the way on the other side of town from the station, and then turned back, getting to the city centre via Fishpool St.
On my first visit to St Albans, I'd thought it was a nice town, but I hadn't seen Fishpool St. It is now one of my favourites anywhere. Even cuter than Friar's Walk in Richmond.

By 7pm we were on the train back to London.

We walked over 7 miles total. Oim toired.
V wants to go to Cambridge tomorrow.

Help!

Foggy Friday

Guess what time we left the house today...(no don't)

Where did we go? St Alban's Abbey was out of the question so we tried to make it to Kenwood House, Hampstead.
There was lots of thunder and lightning in the sky when we were waiting for the bus to Camden. After waiting ages at Camden for a delayed train (someone on the tracks further up the line), by the time we reached Hampstead Station it was 4pm and the skies had generously opened. We all waited half an hour hoping for it to abate, but it didn't much. The only people coming in and out of the station were the countless schoolboys, sopping wet, as if they care...I must say, I have never seen so many school children in one place before as I did in Hampstead. (Was it the milkshake bar on the high street?)

When we did step outside, I walked like a cat in a puddle until my feet were wet enough that I didn't feel it anymore.
Half an hour before closing and we were nowhere near Hampstead Heath. So we ended up doing a damp, drizzly tour of the very charming neighbourhood. I wanna live there. (That's just silly coming from someone in SJW...) No but it's cute! And don't have to go into town for anything. But at least it is possible to walk into town from SJW... So there.

The rain stopped and we got hungry, so we walked up to Rosslyn and caught a bus to Finchley Road, where we ate dinner at Cumin restaurant in the O2 Centre. It was delicious, satisfying, sort of nouvelle indienne. Therefore, not as disappointing as some of the stuff I've tried.

Couldn't catch a movie because we had to make it to the tango jazz do in Bayswater.
We went back home and put on skirts and shoes, and hightailed it off to Las Estrellas, Inverness Mews W2. As we turned the corner from Queensway, I thought it seemed a bit quiet. We doubled over with disappointment as we read on the door that the place was closed for summer holidays!!! How dare they???

...The one time I decide to try...

All at loose ends, I couldn't think where to go at 9pm, and the only thing that came to mind was cocktails! So we waited an eternity for a bus to Bond Street until we realised we'd be better off walking. Got shouted at by some guys in a car. Dude, this is not Italy you know.

We went to search for bars in St Christopher's Place, just because it was on the Jubilee line and convenient for the late hour. St C is a little hole in the wall by Bond Street Station which opens out into a cute little shopping-eating-hanging out venue leading to Wigmore Street.
It is indeed as disappointing as I've been told.

10.30pm, and we found ourselves in the bar in the basement of Auberge. It's just a bar. It was just a cocktail (French Martini - can't be bothered to describe it but it was pink and fruity (and contained Chambord)). Since discovering cocktails with Delightful, I have always savoured them, every mouthful. This I merely drank, it was OK , didn't feel a thing. Vanessa had a Raspberry Daiquiri. I drank quarter of that. Still nothing. You get what you pay for.

I miss the Townhouse...and that's not all...

We went home in a bit of a sulk.

Funky Thursday

Owing to the late hours, Vanessa and I didn't leave the house until 3pm. *wrinkling my nose in disgust*

So Richmond, Hampstead, and any local stately houses were off the list because they close at 5. On Tuesday I had discovered Camden for the first time, alone, not having been there since I was a wee thing. So I dragged Vanessa out there because she is funky enough to appreciate it.

Still...we walked there through Regent's Park, past the London Zoo and through Primrose Hill. After all the walking yesterday I felt like giving up when we got to the Zoo, but walking is all about putting one foot in front of the other.

Camden is cool. As soon as we got there, V detoured into a scarf shop and picked up two, one for herself and one for her sister (yellow, she loves yellow - even her pickup truck is yellow...). Vanessa, predictably, chose a true camel beige. She is into that and olive green at the moment. So I yelled at her a bit and she relented and picked a beige with red and black stripes.
After he found out we were not sisters, the shop guy couldn't understand how a Brit could know an American and we didn't bother to explain. But two Korean-looking girls walked in and he asked us whether they were related; I said no, even though they looked as similar to each other as Vanessa and me.
Also, he established, with repetition, that my voice is ever so polite. And he gave V her two scarves at a considerable discount.

Basically, for the rest of the afternoon, we wandered around going, "Wow." We reached Camden Lock, and turned off into the indoor marketplace. They were prepping for a fashion show, which looked as if it might be a bit Goth. V wanted to know the difference between Punk and Goth, and as she asked, we conveniently passed two shops side by side for easy illustration. We both agreed that if we did have to go "off mainstream" we would choose Goth because there is some elegance in the velvet, lace, and elements of the 18th and 19th centuries. Whereas we would not be punk because, well, because...
Anyway, V is already a hippie. She has been wearing gypsy skirts since they were invented, she loves knitted ethnic bags - bought one in Soho yesterday and had to restrain herself in Camden where they were overabundant.

You know, she owns 50 skirts.

I have a weakness for Chinese/Japanese decorative arts. I dived right into a Chinese tailor's shop and oohed and aahed over the lovely fabrics and elegant shapes. I spotted a size 8 black velvet coat with the straight collar, satin frogging down the front and two side slits. It was perfect and the only one. On sale from £75 to £45, I hesitated and he dropped it to £35; another moment and it was down to £30. Nice buy.

We went into a batik art gallery, where V was seriously tempted to buy a tiny one. She spent that long in Thailand and only today discovered how amazing it is. The owner creates them himself but also has many artists contributing to the collection, and he described the entire process. It is essentially like working in negative, with wax to delineate the design at first, and then later to protect the areas that you don't want to change with each dying stage.

At another stall we each bought a skirt made of assorted panels of rich Asian silks, tied round the waist with a nice ribbon (£4.99 each). V bought a pair of hair chopsticks and a headband for 89p each.
Then we wandered into a vintage shop and found a delightful chest of scarves. We are both scarf girls. This week I have taken to tying my scarves around my head in either Regency or 60s style, depending on the length. Today hers was around her waist. I picked a Pucci-style print, heavy enough for my waves, and V found a very light purply-pink thing.

We were tempted to attend the fashion show at 8pm, but there was food for dinner waiting in the fridge, and I wasn't too keen on finding the way home from Camden in the dark. Already as we were leaving around 7, the evening crowd was moving in. Lots of men in drag and folks shot through with bits of metal. The percentage of cannabis-smoking in the neighbourhood must have jumped 100% by then too. The air was redolent...

So we went home on the bus and had rack of lamb for dinner. Followed by some of those chocolates we bought yesterday at Fortnum's. Once again the evening has slipped away (we held our own fashion show), but I intend to have my head on the pillow by 2am. A tall order, judging by the new activities V is taking up. She read this blog pre-post and had a good giggle. Also, she has just measured the length of her hair and is now sitting down with her current book about the Killing Fields in Cambodia.

It is now 1.27 am.
Good morning!

Winging Wednesday

Vanessa is definitely in town, proven by the fact that I am blogging at 3.30 am. The university sleeping habits are back!

Today we started without a plan, and it was great fun. First, she had to change 8,000 Thai baht, which only squeezed out £97. We ate brunch at Maison Blanc on SJW High Street and set off into town.
Ended up at Green Park, of course, and popped round to Christie's for any possible previews. No, but the doorman sent us in to see the Garrick prize-thingy (portraits and depictions of various stage/screen actors) and I picked up a sales schedule.

As we exited, delayed a second by some people coming in, and then by chatting for a couple of minutes with the doormen, I noticed a lad in a suit waiting at the bottom of the steps. It was none other than my old French teacher's distant cousin whom I have not seen in about a year! I was knocked thoughtless for a minute, exclaiming merely, "Oh my God, I can't believe this!" a few times.
Then I gathered myself together and introduced him to Vanessa. He's gotten taller and slightly older. So we promised to meet up sometime.
I had been wondering about what he was up to these days, and he said that he's working in the area and as he passed Christie's he wondered if I was in there - and indeed I materialised on the step! And I have not been there in many months! What timing.
Not the first time I've bumped into him in town, the last being on the stairs at the Bond Street tube station.

V and I then went off to Fortnums, where I bought her a tiny address book to replace the ancient one that was falling apart even when we were roomies. We also bought calissons, small petal-shaped marzipan-like delicacies from Provence; a custom box of assorted choccies; and two marrons glacés.

At Piccadilly Circus I was beginning to feel hungry, so we crossed over into Soho and ended up, amazingly, at Yauatcha. Even as we passed Chinatown (ton yan gai) my heart began to sink as too much reminded me of ... Delightful ... (I wonder if he still reads this blog...? He used to love it ... I was really flattered by that ...)

So, Yauatcha for dim sum: char sui cheung fun, crispy duck rolls, golden dumplings, and squid cakes. Everything deeeeeeelish as ever. We ended with a shared Shanghai Lily cake (see earlier Yauatcha entry), and fragrant orchid tea.

Then we wandered off to Leicester Square in time to catch a performance of the automated clock chime at the Switzerland thing.

See, it's quarter to 4am and brain is quitting on me now.
Then we walked up Regent's Street, popping into whatever shops took our fancy, passed Oxford Circus, up St Christopher's Lane, onto Wigmore Street, Marylebone High Street, Baker Street, and then caught the bus at Dorset Square. I couldn't have made it around Regent's Park.

(We walked a total of 6.29 miles.)

At home, I had a bowl of cereal and V had a rocket salad. Then we moved on to tea, one calisson each and a short wine-tasting session with a tipple each of my yummy orange blossom muscat.

Between V checking her email and chatting with JP, and me pottering about in between, the night slipped by and here it is, about 3.55 am and I will now post this.

FIN

A Late Tag

Blue Tagged me a while back, but I've been a bit distracted. So here it is at last!

10 years ago:
I had a crush on Harald, the Austrian exchange student who did not return it. I used to flirt mercilessly with Jens, the German exchange student who did return it, but our French teacher hated him and protected me (she is a family friend). Then I graduated from high school and started business and biology at college. I had long curly hair.

5 years ago:
I was 23, and in the middle of my psychology degree at the University of St Thomas. Vanessa was my perfect roommate and we were part of the fabulous four with Johnny and Jason. I had grown out of crushes, but was a bit taken with Enrique because he was so "aesthetically pleasing".

1 year ago:
I was still writing my Master's thesis at Christie's, but my brain was all fizzled out and I was on an extension! And there was a 33-yr old barrister waiting to go on a celebratory date with me. He did so the day after I turned in my thesis. Eh.

Tomorrow:
Vanessa will be here!

5 snacks I enjoy:
Dark chocolate digestives; Doritos tortilla chips and Arriba queso dip; wheat crackers with emmental cheese and prosciutto; crepes with filled with banana, chocolate, cream, Grand Marnier; a fresh Italian roll with fresh Italian butter.
(this one took creativity)

5 bands/artists that I know the lyrics to most of their songs:
Handel, dcTalk, Nat King Cole, Starsailor, Keane

5 things I'd do with $100,000,000:
10% to a foundation for the benefit of premature infants. Then buy a house in London, an Alfa Romeo GT, top up the family members, and invest the rest.

5 locations I'd like to run away to:
Italy, Greece, California, Switzerland, Hawai'i

5 bad habits I have:
not using my desk, fidgeting, running down the stairs, forgetting to breathe, worrying

5 things I like doing:
reading books, blogging, walking, spending time with friends, eating yummy things

5 thing I will never wear:
mini skirts, ridiculous heels, body piercings, thongs, animal prints

5 TV shows I like:
CSI, Friends, Will & Grace, documentaries, literary dramas

5 movies I like:
Amelie, De-Lovely, Le Conseguenze dell'Amore, The Incredibles, Austin Powers

5 people I'd like to meet:
Mozart, Thomas Hardy, Leonardo da Vinci, both my grandfathers, my fellow bloggers
(does it mean something that most of them are dead?)

5 biggest joys at the moment:
at the moment?
The caress of a sun-warmed breeze, a well-tailored top, a passion fruit, the smell of new Sunshine Surf laundry powder, getting a letter

5 favorite toys:
my cars, my electronic set, Little Caroline (the smallest doll in the world), the 1988 Nintendo snoopy tennis game (remember? the tiny electronic handheld), Simon Says (also handheld)

I'm tagging:
Blue already tagged the Bloggers, so:
Moonglow, Caesura, Alohalani, Merserene, various 20Sixers
(You can be sure this is going on over there.)

Quelle Jour!

What a day I've had, and all a well-deserved treat. So put your seatbelts on because this one is different!!!

I went to H's new house today - it's light, bright, neutral, nicely appointed. Took 3 months and £35,000. He moved in last week but is mostly settled. Helped him with a bit of tidying up, and we made a light rustic lunch. He also did a nice steak and tried to make me eat half, "protein...fatten you up a bit." It was nice, I had a bite...but medium rare! (Indeed, this week I have lost a bit of weight and have dark circles, it doesn't take much...)

Oh why must he understand me so well??? He reads me like a book, every time. Speaking of books: Lord Henry he is, indeed, but also like the Daniel Deronda to my Gwendolen Harleth/Grandcourt.
Anyway, scales fell from my eyes yet again.
All sorts of things he wishes he could have done to help, but there - he can't go on my dates for me, can he.

While I was waiting for my tea to cool down, one of his friends who's into property development, and oversaw the work while he was in Europe, came by to check on progress.
Then we met his possible new girlfriend - a former member of Cirque du Soleil - when she arrived to go swimming, and then we all did the tour of the house again.

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I headed back into town for phase two of my day:

I may never tell H that I am doing this (see next paragraph), as he disdains his own ya-ya green wellies crowd, as he calls them. (Anyway, this club is now more democratic; me, as ever, with a foot in two worlds.) But people from old families can't leave it behind so easily, I mean to say.

Anyway, I finally did what I've been delaying since last winter: I applied to join the Arts Club on Dover Street.
Founded in 1863, it boasts illustrious past members. Artists, authors and those of that ilk such as: Bram Stoker, Charles Dickens, Camille Pissaro, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Degas, Franz Liszt, John Everett Millais, Sir Edwin Lutyens, James McNeill Whistler, and the list goes on.

Of course, now the male-female ratio is close to equal now, as it was one of the earliest London clubs to accept women. It's also younger, a haven for young professionals in related fields, or just people interested in art, philosophy, literature, and culture.
The oldest person I saw was at the reception desk. And every time I visit, they are preparing for a wedding...

So I signed the papers and all that, and in a couple of weeks I will hear of my admission. I have certainly charmed the membership secretary, and she and the director are only too happy to stand as sponsor and seconder for me. Name dropping helps a bit.

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After leaving the Club, I felt a mixture of delight and wistfulness, I don't know why. Then, as I walked into Fortnum & Mason, I felt like weeping...possibly for having left one era behind to enter into a new one...

I distracted myself on every level of the establishment. The upper floors, away from the mêlée in the food hall, are very hushed and relaxing. Such exquisite and luxurious merchandise. It really forces one to slow down, examine, smell, touch, caress, appreciate.
I've been looking for a classic monogrammed handkerchief for ages, so I bought one. And a very cool tea strainer which slides open on a handle so that I can drink the Chinese rose tea I got in York.

Wandered on further and nearly walked past Hatchards (London booksellers since 1797), but doubled back and went in. You know me and bookshops...Uh-oh.
I walked out with a calendar and a book.
She offered me the catalogue but I said no, that would be dangerous.

I should have gone to Christie's to see what's coming up, but I forgot it was September already, they had no auctions in August.

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With my precious purchases I took a ramble in Green Park and as the grass and benches were mostly full, I perched on a lovely low-sweeping tree branch.
Seeing the couples on the grass did no end of good to my heart...as the next time I'd planned on going to a park, it would have been with someone.
I sat with my thoughts and resolutions, and the squirrels burying nuts, until the breeze blew cool and I headed back home.

Oopsie daisy...how to end on a lighter note today?

Check this out, you will not believe your eyes: Julian Beever Pavement Art.

Bits n Pieces

Missed me, didn't you?

But before I start, here's a thought: anyone who is mediocre has friends who think they are outstanding.

So...who is what?

Another troop in single file
These march to while one marches fro
An army imbued with mediocrity
Mercenary pirates-to-be
This fishtank needs restocking

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I'm afraid of the little memories I will find in the folded papers in my purse...

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OK...

Why...
Does it cost £1.10 to go two stops from SJW to Finchley Road, but only 30p from SJW to Hammersmith with the change at Green Park???

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Back to my old habit, here I end on the best note with a comic I used to enjoy in the US:
Mutts - they're too shweet!

P.S. Guess where I'm going for lunch tomorrow? Lord H's new house!

New Life

Welcome, Poppy! The brother of my oldest friend Christopher has just had a darling baby girl. (Yes! She is the brightest thing on my blog in over a week!)

No...

I tried.


I failed.


It doesn't feel right.

modern mercenary emotional pirates
marching on and on
unforgiving hearts of stone
unbending, unyielding, un...

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...Deep breath...
(Lord Henry's back...)

Thank you everyone for standing behind me in so many ways. I would be much worse off were it not for you.

I'm going to try, really hard, to return my thoughts to normal blogging this week.

Learning Curve

This is what I have learned:

To one: Don't hold back - it will save a lot of misunderstanding in the long run.
To the other: Communicate - and try to understand - before making a decision.

• If you like someone, tell them so.

• If you admire something about them, compliment them.

• If you want to hold their hand, take it.

• If you want to kiss them, go for it.

• If you want to put your arms around them, reach out.

• If you want to ask a question, go ahead.

• And if you want to discuss something with them, take a deep breath and jump in.

~JUST DO IT~

Stardust Melody

In a day of extremes:
I got a job and signed a contract - I lost a wonderful guy and cried a river.
A summer full of promise...the best one so far. I thank him for that.

"And now the purple dusk of twilight time steals across the meadows of my heart..." so little Olivia has to learn to erase a hundred associations imprinted in her deep soul.

violet petals, sugared blackberries, green olives...

The Tears...the ghost of you, your imperfections, beautiful pain...and flying to the moon...

sparkling pink diamonds, wrinkled pink shirt, little blue car...

a gentle voice, a warm heart, a pair of blue eyes...

Sometimes I wonder why I spend
The lonely nights dreaming of a song.
The melody haunts my reverie,
And I am once again with you...

Taking a break...

...from blogging for a little while.

If there is a light at the end of the tunnel, I have yet to see it.
The one time I would have been correct in following my heart, I really wanted to but didn't, and that was my fatal error...

To thine own self be true

No comments, please.

Thank you,

~O~

It's just...weird...

Have you ever had those days where you just can't wake up? I tried this morning at 9.30; next thing I knew it was 10. This went on until 12.30! I kept waking up and then going back to sleep and dreaming that I'd woken up. One time I dreamed that I was dreaming about waking up!
What was that all about?

It's reminding me of that episode of X-Files when Mulder and Scully are knocked out by mushroom spores and keep hallucinating about coming out of it.

I was under the influence of nothing at all. (PMS?)

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Yesterday afternoon I went out to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I am never one to gush over an actor, so you know I am unbiased when I say that Johnny Depp was fantabulous! His discomfort with people and situations was sublime. Every one of his lines and facial expressions had me giggling and snickering in my seat. I am surprised that not everyone shared my delight and sometimes I was the only one laughing.
Does that make me weird in a Roald Dahl sort of way?
(Um, including the dream this morning...)

Connection Complaints

Of my younger friends, only the girls call me. Younger male friends, even my cousin, tend to hold off. Is there some unspoken age rule here? When I do call them, they are all there for me, but insist that I not hesitate to call them. After writing that, I suddenly grasped the thinking behind that...

Oh well.

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The biggest rejections since I started applying for jobs:
1) Christie's
2) Sothebys
3) Bonhams
--And all for nothing more than admin assistant jobs! I wasn't even trying for cataloguer or junior specialist!
(Although I am now on their database with the promise of a call if something suitable becomes available. Yeah, right.)
The medium ones:
4) Thames & Hudson - editorial secretary
5) Rosenstiel's - publishing assistant
6) Selfridges - PA/admin asst
7) V&A - junior curator trainee
Then the small ones:
8) Lots of typing jobs
And finally, the two art history recruitment agencies who keep insisting it's a slow period, but every time I ask, assure me that they'll call if something comes up.

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I love this site, and now someone's written about it:

Slate Article
Word on the Street: The Cumulative Genius of Overheard in New York

And now for something...

...completely different.

Yes, time to distract your attention from yesterday's subject.


Body language can be disguised behind a mask out of a fear of rejection. This can discourage wanted and needed relationships from developing. Those who want and need certain relationships to develop must relearn their nonverbal skills and unmask themselves in order to avoid alienation.

Yep.
If you want to read more, click here

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Bored at the office? Test your aim with this classic game

*O*

Whew! I can start breathing again. I was turning purple!

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In other news, I've been watching the soldiers removing the Israeli settlers from the Gaza Strip. I've never understood why they couldn't return from having been driven out in the first place and rightly reclaim a land that was historically theirs.

I saw settlers pleading with the soldiers, repeatedly, desperately, tearfully, angrily. The soldiers are just doing their job and such behaviour would accomplish nothing - other than make the statement that this is a wrenching situation.

I watched a young Israeli tear his shirt in a traditional Jewish act of mourning. It was then that I wanted to cry.

Joining Blogger's Anonymous

Hello, my name is Olivia...and I am a blogaholic.

I joined Mo'time (Your Eyes Only) because they lobbied really hard for it. I think they want me to stick around to keep the sanity levels somewhere near normal. You'd know what I mean if you visited...

Last night I gave in to the 20Sixers and joined; they've been asking for months. Ostensibly I joined to make commenting easier and to give and receive "sweeties".

I couldn't resist, though....I have put up a fun new blog over there. It's very pretty, and there you may - no, will - see a side of me that doesn't come out in Blogger.
They were all lying in wait to ambush me. I've got comments coming out my ears over there!

So my friends, take a peek and be prepared:
It's called simply Artmeliana.

Doo Dah La La

I couldn't think of a title.

Visited Vanessa's JP's blog the other day and cracked up reading one of the paragraphs:

Say, why not have ... as the new .com? That would be great to have a ... on the end of your web address, it entices people in. Like instead of amazing.com you would just type in amazing... and you'd have to wonder, what's so amazing? Nothing, by the way, it's just some guy's website. And if your web address was wdot, you would tell people, "check out my website, www-dot-wdot-dotdotdot. Or if you did morse code you could be dotdotdotdashdashdash... (SOS!)

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My shortest poem (circa 1999):

Sur les pieds glorieux
Les martyrs crient pour la foi
Mais le roi est sans douleur
Baignant dans son decadence.

If it sounds odd, that's because it is. Part of a small poetry.com challenge in which we were each limited to 20 random words. Fridge magnet poetry?

I don't want to translate for you because it won't sound as good and I'm too matter-of-fact. If someone feels like giving me a lyrical rendition I'll be more than happy to post it :)

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Boo hoo! Delightful failed his 3rd driving test today :'(

Diamond Overload and more

Delightful and I finally made it to the Diamonds exhibitionspan style="text-decoration: underline;">> at the Museum of Natural History.

I'm not sure what to say about it. It was not as viscerally exciting as the Cartier one last year at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston, where each piece was handpicked from the 1,000+ Cartier collection by Ettore Sottsass who also designed the stunning exhibition. That one literally took my breath away.

Diamonds are pretty! The case that stood out for me the most was one filled with an array of 250 diamonds in every colour, set under an alternating normal and black light. Hey, they glow different colours under black light.
Also, too near the beginning in my opinion was the DeBeers Millennium Diamond. It rotated in its case, its facets throwing glittering light against every surface in the room. I'd hate to cheapen the idea by comparing it to a disco ball, but...oh well.

Under a magnifying glass was the tiniest diamond in the world, barely larger than a grain of sand, it was .06 carats I think, and set into a black diamond to avoid losing it.

The very last piece was a coal and diamond necklace. Well done, but chunky and just plain ugly, although I appreciated the paradox. Something so ugly can, under pressure and high temperatures, produce something so beautiful.

Review number 2 of The Townhouse on Beauchamp Place. We went there at about 7pm and spent nearly 2 hours there. Still so relaxing, still a pleasure to watch the cycling colours under the glass bar, every drink still an aesthetic and palatable delight. By around 8.30 pm it gets really busy and people have to stand at the bar until a space clears, so Delightful and I clung
happily to our spot, although slightly miffed that someone else had already taken our corner when we arrived.
At around 8pm, the lights dim further, a new DJ arrives and the music changes from mellow to loud. Too loud for such a small space, if you ask me.

People-watching is fun. One guy arrived early and sat awkwardly for half an hour until his date arrived. It was obviously their first, and we watched the body language over the course of an hour, how with each successive drink she laughed more, moved closer, stopped crossing her legs. No telling if he'll call her back. His behaviour was not very readable.

That's beside the point. I broke a personal record by drinking two cocktails for the first time! And this time I can't remember what was in them...Oh stop laughing, it's not what you think.

My first was the Lemongrass and Wild Chilli. It was a blushing shade of pink and I removed the red chilli garnish to prevent more oil seeping into the mix. I quite liked it, it had a great kick which blew Delightful out of the water a bit. It was pretty enough that he took a picture of it set against the glowing blue of the bar across the room.
His first was the Monkey Scrumble which he'd enjoyed last time, but has now decided he's all "Monkey-Scrumbled out".
Halfway through my first he ordered his second: a Tall and Dandy ("Like me!" *nudge nudge* to which I could not disagree.) It was tall and Watermelony and I think there was orange Stolichnaya in it but that could have been in his third.

My second (!) was a Parma Violet. I LOVE it! It's all violety and ever so refined! Delightful liked it too and then ordered his third, the Sky Cruiser, and we were both of the opinion that these last cocktails were the best of the evening.
I would definitely have the violet again. Now, the Sky Cruiser...I am at a loss but at first it tastes lemony even though it's not a lemon drink and then fades on the palate into a floral candy flavour.

The drinks at the Townhouse are far superior to Pearl's. I can't forget that I was dizzy barely halfway into my Bumblebee there, while at this place I could manage two. That's the joy.
However, we did agree we'd enjoyed the nibbles at Pearl.

And catching the eye of any staff at London establishments is a work of art. They don't keep a furtive eye on the customer. The mark of a good server is their attendance on you for barely raising an eyebrow. Nowadays you have to wave, shout, or go to the counter yourself.

I tried a bit of mind control on the girl who stood with her back to me by twirling my finger and whispering, "Turn, turn, turn." She did, and I beckoned her over forthwith.

.........Heheeh, yeeeees, I will mesmerise you..........

Afternoon of Cool

So my friend J is in town from NYC, for a week of business school at LBS in Regent's Park. Coincidentally, Columbia installed them at a hotel barely two blocks from my place.
So Wednesday evening we met for dinner and a long ramble through Regent's Park.

J is a park snob - he lives near Central Park, and when he stays in London likes Hyde Park and St James's Park. He had to admit that my park is also quite nice. And --- that I live in a cute neighbourhood! :)
And if I have to say "park" one more time I shall scream.

He knows I am blogging about this afternoon's adventure, and for his immortalisation on my blog has picked the nickname "Titan" or "Stallion". Um, no.

Determined to return to Yaugo***......you see I have forgotten the name again. He's been before and loved it. When I blogged about nearly getting in there with Delightful, I called it Yaugotcha but it's not (!)

We met at Baker Street Station, took the tube down to Oxford Street, and promptly endeavoured to get lost. When we found ourselves at Wigmore Street, we got my map out (the one I never carry with me!) and stood on the corner looking like a pair of American tourists *blush*
That didn't work for long, so we actually went into a hotel lobby to ask directions. This, after insisting on Wednesday that he never asks for directions, being a guy and all...
Turns out we'd gone the wrong way out of the station in the first place and instead of going SE we went NW.
On the way there we walked through the true Soho, the part the tourists don't infiltrate and no one but locals know - a real rabbit's warren of narrow streets filled with xxx shops with names like Bend Over. J says that the Soho in NYC is the same*. We figured that if he were to set up in London, he'd have to live somewhere like Primrose Hill and we'd hang out with Jude Law, Ewan McGregor and the rest of the Primmy Hill gang. But definitely not Soho because he would get sooo hit on around there.

By the time we got to Yauatcha (that's it!), we totally deserved the treat.
We sat downstairs for Dim Sum. Yum!!! We had Char Sui Cheung Fun (my fave), almond and coconut coated crispy King prawns, glass noodle and caviar-wrapped King prawns (his fave), and mushroom parcels. We agreed that, although really delicious, it was the most awkward and difficult food to eat. Nothing gets to the mouth in one piece. But the Japanese bamboo chopsticks are superior to anything else (like the heavy melanine ones in Chinese restaurants). Sorry, melamine...melanin is a skin pigment.

(Do excuse today's stream of consciousness.)

Then we went upstairs for tea and dessert. Paralysed by the choices, J saddled me with the responsibility of choosing the tea, while he escaped to gawk at the dessert counter. So after a few questions to the waitress I chose the Orchid tea - it tastes like how orchids smell.
Did you know that between Green tea and Black tea, there is BLUE tea??? It is less fermented than the black, has less bitterness than the green, and a medium amount of caffeine. However, the orchid was a flower tea which is comparable to the Blue, if I remember correctly.

For dessert, I chose the Shanghai Lily: a tiny light white chocolate-encrusted cake with lychee-liqueur-soaked lychee bits in the centre and a pretty pink rose-flavoured fuzz on the outside, topped with a dollop of pink rose jam and a red rose petal. Every mouthful was a delight, but it was so pretty I hadn't wanted to break into it in the first place.
J chose the Galangal something-or-other: a small brown dome of custardy mousse that tastes just like the brulée part of crème brulée. It was topped with a cute swirl of sugar art.

This place is so chic. Every counter is supported by lengths of aquarium. The downstairs is dark, with a ceiling like a starry night sky. Getting into the bathrooms is like penetrating a fortress, with dark heavy Japanese doors and handles like metal Japanese characters. Each cubicle is like a miniature cell lined with black marble, and what makes it really worth a visit is the sink. The water from the tap on either side runs down a stepped incline of black granite to the drain in the centre. Official mark of a chic establishment is Molton Brown toiletries (cf. The Townhouse on Beauchamp St.)
(I TELL YOU WHAT - this Christie's cataloguing training really stands me in good stead!)

J said I had to provide the "cool" today, but this place was so "it" I didn't need to have any at all.

Stuffed to the gills, we walked to the National Portrait Gallery and went in for a half hour of the World's Most Photographed People exhibition.
There was Queen Victoria, Mahatma Gandhi, Adolf Hitler, Greta Garbo, Audrey Hepburn, James Dean, JFK, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, and Muhammad Ali.
I didn't have a favourite sitter, only certain pics that appealed to me, though at a push I'd choose Audrey Hepburn every time.

Back out into the street, a brisk walk through Trafalgar Square, Haymarket, around St James's Square and out past Christie's, then up Piccadilly to a Starbucks - like most Americans, J was implanted with a homing device for that place - and then on to a bench in the middle of Green Park, where, with no alcohol in my system, my attempt to say "sympathy vote" came out as "symphony boat".
When the breeze blew chilly, we headed back to SJW.

Mileage? Don't know, forgot the blasted pedometer again.

* Whereas Soho in London is named after an ancient hunting cry, SoHo in NYC means South of Houston Street. And this Houston is not pronounced like the one in Tx, but rather like House-ton. This I once heard was due to a falling out between members of the Houston family after which both places are named.

(Help!) and a Poem

Earlier this evening I thought I'd lost my inspiration, my muse (I didn't know I had one until I lost it). Now...
Well, for the past few days I've been feeling invisible.
What people say (words) - or do not say (silence) - is draining my self-confidence.

You all know I don't like to burden you with anything, so I apologise. I've just deleted half of the rant I had written...
But I miss the Olivia that I was at the beginning of the summer, before I left my internship.

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I now wish I could delete the entire top section, but I also value honesty.

I Need:

0. A Job
1. To see all the friends I miss
2. A good old fashioned belly laugh
3. To get down everything that's up in the air

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I promise I didn't plan this, but I've reached the page in my poem book that fits today's mood. (After this, I only have 3 left!)
It was written in 1998, after a few years of unrequited love...

You shine like a star,
but distance dims the light.
You offer me words,
but I cannot see your face.
I listen to your voice,
but I cannot hear your heart.
I reach for your hand,
but I find it withdrawn.

So I watch and I wait and I wish...

That I might bask in the glow of your love,
Gaze into the depths of your eyes,
Feel the warmth of your heart
And place my hand in yours.

So I watch and I wait and I wonder...
When will that day come?

Wednesday Wamblings & Music

I love London, it's a(n) [insert positive adjective here] city! But sometimes it just SUCKS. Literally. Money from your hands. I spent nearly £70 yesterday on a week's worth of groceries, stationery, and water filter refills.

I saved a whole 64p yesterday at Waitrose buying two laundry softeners on special. Woohoo.
And gave it back by splurging on a gorgeous block of Italian butter (Beppino Occelli). It's been over a year since I last did this, but it has a flavour non pareil.

(I need a job!)

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Olivia is a naughty girl. She has put aside her brown bread this week in favour of a tray of chocolate chip and crème pâtissière brioche. ...Ahem...
Anyone in the mood to nag me about this?

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Looky what I found. New music I like, that I can share with you!

Athlete - Half Light (Media Player)
Love the effects.

Supergrass - St Petersburg (Media Player)
Cool.

This is the one I wanted to hear last Sunday:
The Tears - Apollo 13 (Quicktime)
You've GOT to wait for that Apollo bit!

Sonnet: Witnessed in my Garden

The wren must be the sweetest bird of all -
A cheeky little soul as he is rare,
And with his wife oft times he comes to call
At our green garden full of tasty fare.
Upon alighting on our fence he bobs
And dips his tiny head down to his feet.
I watch amused as with his dainty hops,
He sidles up to Jenny Wren to tweet
And serenade her mightily in song.
I'm sure Sir Christopher the Wren will win
Her tender heart. I surely can't be wrong.
Look! With twinkling eye and neck stretched thin,
She's inching up and putting out her beak.
What did she do? She peck'd him on the cheek!

**********
Olivia K 1994

Tuesday Tidbits

"Din'nae 'Och!' at me, Geordie!"

--Jean scolding Geordie for making a sound of impatience.
[This is to be said in your strongest most guttural Scottish burr!]

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My Life as a Child

The videodiaries of three 9-year old girls. I love the way they see the world. I love the way they express themselves. I love being impressed by their outlook and intelligence and use of big words. And I love the way they learned about themselves in the process.

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Every time I skip the train to take the number 13 bus up to Swiss Cottage, it brakes hard at the same junction, tipping everyone over like dominoes. Last time I pulled a muscle, and that was on my first day out after my bad back. This time I was prepared for the lady beside me. I was so tight, she bounced right off.

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Ready for another poem? OK.

Two Haiku

As the storm rages,
lightning flashes bright as day.
I see everything.

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Sunset threatens day
as the blackbird bids goodnight.
Sleep tight, feathered song.

**********
Olivia Klonaris 1994

...RED...

As she breathed deeply into the scented rose,
she remembered his words:
Only you, dear Ruby, are my love,
my life, the flower of my dreams,
the fire in my heart.
And she blushed as she gazed
into the flaming sunset,
the cherry blossoms wafting
onto her russet locks.

**********
Olivia Klonaris, 1994

Sunday stuff [Edited]

Am blogging now merely because I have run out of things to do before going out this afternoon. Oh yea, The Tears concert at Somerset House. They're Delightful's new favourite indie band.
Going to hear "Apollo 13" and "Your Imperfections" live, let's see how that goes.

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PARANOIA

So today I ran errands at a leisurely pace, which I deserved after feeling not so good last night.
I went to the cashpoint with not a soul in sight. Then it got awkward because as soon as I took out my card all these women and children appeared behind me. The numbers on the keypad are so large and my hands are so small.

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RANDOM DREAM

I once had a waking dream in front of my computer, up till 7am writing a philosophy paper.
One minute I was typing, then I saw a boy and a girl leaving a shop, then I woke up and Microsoft Word was staring back at me.
Weird.

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OVERBOARD

Oh, last night I had a sort of Skype conference with JP (in San Diego) and Vanessa (in Houston). It was true multi-tasking and not quite what we were designed for logistically, or logically. It involved headsets, speakers, headphones, earpieces, mobile phones, and typing. He even blogged about it near the end of our chat and I was able to read it before bed.

I think I will tackle it. JP Skyped me while he had Vanessa on his mobile phone with an earpiece. I have a headset but was thrown off everytime I spoke because he had speakers so I had to talk over myself, and it was a bit embarrassing to hear what I actually sound like to other people.
(For instance, I was surprised to learn that I emphasise the t's and d's at the end of words more than I'd thought. Hard as I tried, I never lost that English public school accent I grew up with, though there is a tiny detectable Texan twang - Hey, say that 5 times fast.)

While we waited and talked, Vanessa downloaded Skype, then we realised she had no mic, so she could only hear me but would type her replies to me - either that, or JP would repeat her. And because JP had his earpiece on as well I could hear when she spoke but not what she said.
On top of that, while we were on, a colleague called JP and he forgot to mute himself while they talked so Vanessa and I remained silent and typed nonsense to each other while we waited.
So bottom line is, V needs a mic and she promises to get one ASAP.

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Oops, time to go!

EDIT: Disappointingly, no concert last night. It was cancelled due to the father of one of the band members passing away. Delightful, poor lad, was ever so crestfallen because the point was - Somerset House is such a special setting.
So he had a proper tut and moan and I contributed a there-there-it's-alright, and then we pulled our socks up and improvised a Plan B: Leicester Square to catch a flick. (Kingdom of Heaven)

Diamonds are... [Addendum]

Great! I can see the bottom of my blog pile!



Last month, Moonglow asked a question about birthstones and I've been meaning to blog it ever since.

Being an April baby, my birthstone is diamond, a fate which I reluctantly accepted because I thought them overrated.

THEN a few years ago I learned some really cool things about diamonds, such as:
1. They are the only gem composed of one element (Carbon)
2. All diamonds are at least one billion years old, most about 3bln
3. They are so dense that they slow light to half its usual speed (of 186,000 mph)
4. They are so dense that they remain cooler than the ambient temparature
5. Their facets disperse all the colours of the rainbow

Number 3 and 4 really got my attention, and I became sort of awed by diamonds.

Then I won the DeBeers lariat that you all know about by now and took it as a good omen.

Last year I went to a Cartier exhibition at the Houston Museum of Natural History and finally fell in love with number 5 because my eyes were dazzled.

At the Soane museum on Tuesday I asked Delightful what he would collect if he had to be a collector, and *without hesitation* he chose coloured diamonds...which, as with many things he mentions, was so unusual that I had to let it sink in.

The same evening on the way home, I spotted a Tube poster for the upcoming diamond exhibition at the NHM. *anticipation*

...a girl's best friend.
...forever.
(pick your ending)

**********

Addendum -
After some of your comments I've done a little research.

Caesura - Opal is a hydrous Silica with metal oxides. Sort of loses its romance after that.

OJ - Indeed, diamonds are the hardest naturally-occurring substance known to man. (10 on the Moh scale)

The word "diamond" comes from the Greek adamas meaning "untameable".

JP - Sapphire is the next hardest gem (9 Moh) after diamond. It is composed of Aluminium oxide coloured by iron and titanium.

Coloured diamonds are extremely rare and occur through gas contamination, the most common being Nitrogen (yellow). A N atom would replace a C atom on the crystal lattice.
Boron-contaminated blue diamonds are used as semiconducting material, but if the blue is caused by Hydrogen, they are not.
Colour can be added in a lab with pressurisation. Might as well just wear a topaz...

Diamonds unfit for gemstone use are known as bort and prized for their hardness and conductivity, rather than brilliance.


Oh, and one last thing before I forget...
No I forgot...
Ohhh and it was interesting too.

OH I KNOW. Precious stones are classified as being above 7 or 8 on the Moh scale; semiprecious as below.

FIN

Video!

The Graduation video is up and running on the Glasgow University site. You'll need Windows Media Player.

Here's the schedule:

00.00 --- Anthem tutorial
03.00 -- Fire procedure
04.53 -- Waiting
06.30 -- Anthem & Faculty Procession
08.55 -- Opening prayer
10.24 -- Presentation of D.Phils
After 11.55 -- Presentation of M.Phils - I'm number 7
57.55 -- Sir Muir Russell's speech
After 01.09.04 -- Closeup of me! (front row, 3rd from right)
01.00.14 -- Benediction and Exit

Jason and Johnny

They made up the other half of our fantastic four at university, the other half being Vanessa and me.
Since graduating, Johnny has gone on to complete his MBA at the same uni, but has changed a lot, according to Jason. He used to wear cowboy boots and belt buckles, you know? And now he's swanning around on the modelling circuit.


So a couple of days ago, on a message from Johnny bragging about spending a week with 25 of these international beauties, Jason remarked: Part of me is happy for John. Part of me.

**********

Today I opened my Inbox to find an email from Jason entitled: Photoshop is Fun!

Cultured Pearls

I've just discovered this American reality show called Playing it Straight. One girl has to find the straight men among the gay guys.

She's down to 3 right now. The cute guy is suspect today because he is talking about the architecture of the San Francisco hotel, and knows which cutlery to use for what, and can interpret the painting in the dining room.

EXCUSE ME, but this is called CULTURE. No wonder Americans guys think some English gentlemen are gay.
They had better never hear the things Delightful talks about!

**********

So he gave me the idea of blogging bar reviews. I did sort of last time, but now I might get a bit more serious.
Soda water and lime cordial = puckeringly refreshing. Try it sometime.

We went to the Sir John Soane museum (TEST: to open in new window: Sir John Soane Museum - *here all the Christie's alumni sit up straight* - did you know they hold late candelight viewings of the house on the first Tuesday of the month?
This house is the quirkiest little space you will ever enter, and Sir John lived in there. Delightful and I agreed we'd go bonkers.

It's full of amazing little rooms with nooks and crannies, skylights of all sizes, and is crammed to the corners with antiquities, statues, pieces of ancient marble, cameos, medals, even the sarcophagus of Pharaoh Seti I, etc etc etc.

Then to the bar. It's called Pearl - despite being on the ground floor of the Chancery Lane Hotel (on High Holborn), it is a proper destination. The pearl motif is carried throughout and it has a relaxing atmosphere. There are comfortable seating areas separated from each other by pearly lighting features - and you'd have to check out the chandeliers.
However, we chose the cozy little candlelit booth with the couches and cushions.
Only 4 pages of cocktails, but there were also choices of wines, spirits, vintage, and cigars. Let me tell you, these £9.75 cocktails pack a punch! I could only manage half of my Bumblebee.
(Is this why I have a headache today...and why am I so sneezy?)

The Bumblebee contains: honey liqueur, vanilla stoli, Amaretto (3 alco!), mango juice, mint...probably more that I don't recall. It was not that exciting.

Delightful had a Lemongrass (well, whatever of it he didn't pour down his leg): Absolut Citron & Bombay Sapphire Gin shaken with fresh pineapple and lemon juice with a touch of lemongrass & Ginger Cordial. It was alright, a bit fresh.
And a Cool Forest: wild berries and lemon muddled with Stoli Raspberry, Stoli Strawberry and Creme De Mure. It tastes like an alcoholic berry sweetie.
With all this you get frequently-refreshed plates of olives and sweet and savoury nuts.

The service at Pearl is a bit patchy and half-hearted for such an expensive venue, so D asked for a service charge refund and might use it for dry cleaning those trousers.
Being a rather new place, it's possible they haven't perfected their purpose yet.

I re-recommend The Townhouse on Beauchamp Place instead. We are sooo going back there!!!

**********

Overheard outside number 33. As I was waking up on Saturday morning I heard the little girl's voice outside:
--Daddy, where do you get money from?
-What do you mean?
--Do you find it on the street?
-No love, I make my money buying and selling lots of buildings and hotels.

Ooookay...See, the streets in London are not paved with gold after all.

Of the Church by the Road

I behold the countryside unfolding with beauty and abundance,

And turn my thoughts to the wondrous world around me.
How I ponder about such archaic things
As the Norman church that sits with solemn remembrance,
As though it would fain relive the glorious ages past:

Those centuries rich and colourful,
While biding its time beside the old Roman road.
Built to last for a thousand years and more,
It has welcomed shivering pilgrims from the howling blizzard,
And the faint from under the midsummer sun.
But certainly, it has suffered times of neglect and disdain.

Thus every Sunday when the organ richly resounds,
The stout Norman church glows with ancient pride,
And will remain so contented and alive
For as long as the worship flows from its gates,
And floods the green hills with melody sweet.

I retreat reverently, softly, into this ancient place so secure,
To smell the musty scent of history and feel the past before me.
I know that when the epitaphs engraved in stone
Are but scattered words upon the grass,
And the last vestige of that fortress crumbles,
Alas! Only memories will linger and brood,
As silent and ghostly as the night.

**********
Olivia Klonaris 1993

NASA and The New Planet

For the first day of August, the story that got all the stargazers jiggling in their seats last week:

NEW PLANET!

Our solar system has become well-balanced since stargazers found that tenth planet. It's 97 times farther from the sun than the earth is, and three times farther from the sun than Pluto, which you may recall was discovered in the late 1930s.

For now, it's called 2003UB313 because the pictures were taken in 2003, but it wasn't identified as a planet until early this year. Astronomers do like to make sure.

We haven't run out of Greco-Roman deities yet so I look forward to hearing what the IAU will name it.

All this hype about the planet and the shuttle reminds me that when I lived there, I was a member of Space Center Houston. I would have been accepted to the NASA oral history project, but for the fact that final exams and an emergency trip to London interfered with orientation training. :(

For old times' sake, here is NASA. They have some excellent multimedia features, streaming NASA TV and everything you want to know about space and the exploration thereof.

The Johnson Space Center, which sprawls leisurely along NASA Parkway in far southwest Houston, is really the nerve centre of the space programme. The shuttle only launches from Kennedy Space Center in Florida, home to the fleet.
In fact, Houston is called Space City USA on the police department shoulder patch, which also features the globe encircled by two red rings. (Space exploration is a more patriotic theme than the oil and gas exploration, which takes place a few miles out in the Gulf of Mexico.)

As soon as a shuttle leaves the launchpad, control is handed to Houston which is in charge of all shuttle activities. It also coordinates the International Space Station program. The astronauts train at JSC and of course live in Houston. Dad used to have an apartment in the Clear Lake part of town nearby, and every morning before the damp sea mists had rolled away, the astronauts would shoot overhead in their light blue F-14s.

They used to have huge Open Days before 9/11. You get a big NASA bag and collect goodies as you go along. There were tours all over the JSC, including the original mission control room. My highlight was playing with an electron microscope; the closer I zoomed in to the poor little ant, the more electrons bombarded his fragile antennae, and they wilted, curling tightly to his head.

The atmosphere at JSC retains the thrill of its man-on-the-moon anticipation. This is helped by the fact that all the buildings are distinctly early 60s in design, US government-issue (which is really not so dire as the contemporary brutalist buildings found elsewhere). Being so science-based, there is a calmness but obviously with such a mission as theirs, the underlying electricity at NASA is unmistakeable.

An eye-opening NASA Spinoffs website. How the space program has touched our daily lives, from medicine to wine-making.