The Dinner

Not as big as I'd planned, but it was cosy. One day, one day, I will be able to see my friends in a group rather than individually.

Lydia and Anthony (the twins), my friends for 27 years (we don't even remember meeting), and Shiho, my friend from Christie's, came through for me at Cocoon, on Regent at Air Street. The others turned up at 11, but we had left by then! Ha. Lydia asked if I would be blogging this, and when I said yes, she said I should put all the pics up, so here they are. (Except for the scary closeup one Tony put on when we weren't looking, and it made me jump when I reviewed the pics.)


(In the larger version of this pic, we look related!)





We ordered lots of edamame with salt. All sorts of sushi - with FRESH wasabi, which was nice. Duck rolls. Seaweed salad. Softshell crab tempura (this was my fave!). We enjoyed the food, and had cocktails. I had a Jasmine Fizz (fresh passionfruit in champagne with jasmine), and then a lychee martini (vodka, lychee juice, rosewater, and a lychee fruit in the bottom).


Nice lighting.


Then we had dessert. Lydia and Shiho got sorbets on banana leaf strips on blocks of ice in wooden trays (banana, mango and rhubarb, passionfruit, strawberry).



Tony and I ordered green tea mochi with white chocolate and green tea ice cream and warm chocolate sauce, also all set on top of ice.




I had to help Lydia with her dessert



They want to come back here...

Shiho left, then we moved on to The Pigalle, that new 40s-style jazz club that has opened on Piccadilly.



Both Lydia and Anthony enjoyed themselves and know loads of people who will like it. We thought we were showing our age by turning up at, and enjoying, a place where the average age of the guests was 40, but Lydia said we were actually showing our wisdom. She always looks on the bright side. What I love about my Twins is that they make me laugh like a maniac.


Kindred spirits forever and ever...Lyds n Liv.



My favourite twins in the whole world!



Lydia said he looked a bit drunk in that one (he wasn't), and insisted on taking another:




So he put his glasses back on. Awwwwwwww, sweet eh?

***

Here I opened my gifts. Shiho had given me a delicate selection of Japanese items:


A tiny mirror



A tube of incense wrapped in handmade paper with handwritten calligraphy



A tiny gold bookmark, nearly as delicate as a leaf


From Lydia:

A leather purse, coincidentally also Japanese

From Lyds & Tony & their entire family:


A special marcasite heart pendant. What is the green stone???

The Week So Far

I don't usually blog on a Friday because people don't check blogs so much on weekends. It's a break from work, more often than not. Isn't it? You lazy bunch!

But I have had a goodish week and will have a better weekend, so there is much catching up to do.

First of all, when I left the insurance co this evening, they said they hoped it had not been too boring for me - probably because I got the work done sooo fast. I made no comment because it really had been. When another secretary said she hopes to see me soon, I laughed and she said, "Unless you get a job first!" Seriously, this was the first office I most definitely could not consider working at - insurance is not half as interesting as capital markets (I never thought I would say that), and I found myself missing the audio job I had last year in the City.

Secondly, on Tuesday my dear friends Diva and Nags sent me a lavish bouquet because being nearly admitted to hospital, she tearfully informed me that she is unable to attend my party. It is such a big bunch of flowers that my landlady is happy to host them on the dining room table in a Lalique vase.



I have other parcels arriving in the post in the next few days from all over the place. Unfortunately, my guest list is so reduced that it will be a very quiet affair, rather than an all out dinner.

Secondly, I got a call two days after an email (which I had not replied to) from a publishing co - I had emailed my CV in for a job ad in their interior design section. I have never been chased up before and it's great. So I told him what writing sample I would send, and I appreciated the fact that he said I had the sort of CV they were looking for, and that even though I hadn't written about interiors, my art history skills were certainly transferrable. ABOUT TIME someone said that: transferrable.


Thirdly, Thursday was my favourite day because I got to meet up with Mr Gorgous Eyes again, you know, the one from Saturday. I must say, for a guy he keeps in touch really well. Like, every day. Awesome eh!

It was an adventure. I walked from Tower Hill to Blackfriars to kill the time until he got off work. I carried my camera with me and took photos, by the way, but the day was so hazy that I wasn't that trigger-happy.



I stopped at House of Fraser (didn't know there was one in the City) to pick up some face lotion, and 5 minutes after I left, I realised she hadn't given my debit card back. I ran like the wind; fortunately, she had used the till in a quiet corner and no one had even been there since I left, and it was still there. Whew. Well, after that little adrenaline rush, I had a huge slump and it took a lot of effort to make it to Blackfriars, especially as I was along the river and kept doubling back looking for the exit to the station. And out of 8 exits, I happened to use the exact one where he was waiting, about to text.

We chattered away like a couple of, well, chatty people, and walked to the destination I had chosen, Smithfield Market. I had been there before and enjoyed the restoration of the Victorian structure and the cool bars and restaurants inside. As soon as we got to the area, it felt wrong. We walked around and around, checked the map, asked some people, and then gave up. It must have been another market (Leadenhall, I found out later).

We decided it would be much better to head to familiar territory so we got on the Tube and went to Bond Street, only we didn't end up there (third disaster) - we both swore we ran to the southbound Jubilee train before the doors closed, but for some reason ended up in St John's Wood. So back we went, and found a tiny Turkish restaurant at St Christopher's Place. In the train he said he liked halloumi, and lo and behold there was some grilled on the starters menu. Squeaky Cypriot cheese, which I like to put in pasta - when it's hot it's really squeaky.

Sea bream, calamari, wine - and check out the lamps on the ceiling. They were dense:



It was the same behind me. Fortunately, Eyes is sufficiently obscured by the darkness and he remains a mystery!

But as more wine was imbibed the company got louder and we were shouting to be heard, so we tried to go somewhere for coffee and dessert. The creperie was closing; Carluccios only had space at the bar, so we left; Pizza Express kicked us out because they don't serve only dessert when it is busy...

**********

Shit, I really am utterly disappointed. Someone else just called to cancel. After a promising start to the week...there are only two or three people guaranteed to turn up at the dinner, and possibly three or four more for the drinks. This is after starting with a list of 17 and getting 10 to accept. Half of them are out of the country, the others are sick or have prior engagements, but those latter will try to come along at some point.

Lydia says we could ditch the restaurant, but the stragglers might turn up. We can laugh about it, she says. Hm...if anyone can make me laugh, it's her.

On a lighter note, Christopher (who also can't be there) and his mum sent me a cheque for £30. What memorable item should I purchase with it?

How does it feel?

So, how does it feel to be 30?
*pinches self*
No different.
Maybe tomorrow, then...

But, everyone keeps saying how different things are going to be from now on, so I say, Bring It On!

**********

This week I am working in an insurance co near Tower Hill. Such big names, I am surprised they haven't asked me to sign a confidentiality agreement yet.

Seriously, I am so close to the Tower of London, I might take my camera and get some late afternoon shots of it.

I can do this work with my eyes closed. I was handing the work back finished about 5 minutes before they gave it to me to do, that's how easy it was. By lunchtime, I had them all caught up on the backlog (they called that a backlog?) and by hometime I had actually run out of things to do, so I left 4 minutes early.

Come on, need a real job now...I am SO done being a secretary.

**********

It was really strange having to spend my big birthday in a new office, unable to check my messages or answer calls. My phone was on silent vibrate, and it was going so much that by lunchtime I was running out of battery and Inbox space!

People came out of the woodwork to wish me happy birthday.

I came home to more messages, emails from people I thought didn't even know about it. I even got a card from UST, sent all the way from Houston and signed by the staff at the office of Alumni Relations.
And a huge bouquet of flowers from Diva and Nags.
My guest list is suffering casualties through illness and lack of funds. No one else had better drop out! This is how my 25th birthday never even got off the ground.


**********

Tonight I met a long lost childhood friend who found me, guess how? She Googled me and found my blog! I had looked for her for years, but she's been married for 8 of them so I couldn't look for the name I knew.

She has the same mannerisms, the same sound - she even looks the same, only filled out because we are now women, and she is a mother.

It is so wonderful to reconnect - Angela, Lydia and I were so close when we were little, and soon we three will have a reunion.

**********

I heard back today from a publishing co regarding an interiors writer. Only thing is now they need some relevant writing samples. You all know I can write about anything under the sun, only I checked with my brain and it told me that although I had written loads about art, antiques, sculptures, exhibitions, literature, castles, volcanoes, deep sea organisms, and quantum physics, I hadn't actually said anything much (yet) about decoration or interiors. *Panic button, where is it?*

OK, this little girl (30 or no 30) has to go to work tomorrow, so it's time for a shower and beddy bye.

Enjoy the warm weather tomorrow, it wil be 19C (68F).
Nite nite!

:P

Oops Easter!

I went out for some lovely easter hymns, came back, called some friends in the US, fell asleep and slept through my dinner slot. I am very hungry but I cannot use the kitchen because my landlady is cooking dinner now.

Yesterday I spent the day out with a cute Australian (originally from Central America) who had the most gorgeous pair of eyes I have ever seen. Seriously. We went for a coffee and a stroll through Green and St James's parks to Westminster, then back again via Trafalgar Square to Piccadilly, where we met his friend (half Spanish, half Greek) who is an even more recent arrival from Oz. We went to a pub in Soho where we were accosted by a homeless druggie; then to dinner in Chinatown; then to another pub in Covent Garden where some "ladies of the night" asked us for directions to Maiden Lane (ah, the irony). It was a long and wonderful day.

Aussies are so cool! Now I know why the Oz guys I have talked to in the past said that if I lived there, I wouldn't be single for long. There is a freshness and sincerity in them that is totally lacking in the pretentious British male with his unrealistic expectations.
These two made me honest, comfortable (as much as you can be with people you've just met), real, and I didn't feel that they were judging me. They accepted me for who I am. After everything I've been through in this city, I needed that.


**********

First spring walk

What a pretty day it was. Although I woke up with a migraine and some deafness (still congested), I decided to get rid of the laundry I haven't done since before I went to Dallas. In the afternoon, I went for a walk in Regent's Park. I love how it's just round the corner from my house, and every spring I take my first uplifting walk through it. The paths were packed because a lot of people get Good Friday off, even though Easter Monday is a public holiday.

I was bombarded with sounds and images and snippets of life:
Tiny green buds on the ends of branches.
Blossom petals on the ground.
Groups of geese flying over the bridge.
Pigeons doing the courtship dance.
Lady feeding the squirrels and a robin joined in after singing in a bush.
Italian greyhound arcing across the pathway at full bound.
Couples of all ages laughing, chatting, holding hands, kissing.
Mixed groups of adults and children kicking a ball around.
I saw a duck dive and not surface for over 10 seconds.
Children on bicycles have no sense of direction.
A football rolled towards me across the path so I stopped it and kicked it (perfectly directed, may I add) back to its owner.

Standing by a bush looking at some tulips and topiaries, I spotted a robbin who popped up from behind a tulip, peeping at me with his big beady eyes and little red breast, so I stayed there and next minute he'd flitted over into the hedge, and a second later he popped out right at my foot! I had my phone out, but was so excited I couldn't turn the camera on without moving. He hopped about for a bit looking cheeky and then flipped over onto a bench. Sweet!



On my way back home, still enjoying all the sensations, I started sniffling and my eyes got sore, so I decided to pick up some allergy tablets. On a rather empty bit of pathway on my way out, I passed a couple of Middle Eastern men in their late 20s-early 30s, bowling about on the pathway like they owned it. As soon as I was level with them, one of them said something that sounded like, "Hi." In the big city, people learn to ignore what other people say sometimes, so I did. Then his mustachioed companion said it louder and his friend said, "Too much". I was at least 5 steps past them by now and still going. Then I imagine they turned around a bit and the first guy said, "Scuse me!" and his companion followed with, "Hello, scuse me!"

I mean, what am I supposed to say? English guys do not do that unless totally drunk. Italians do, but they are kind of laughable. One time I was waiting at the Tube turnstiles for [the first guy I nearly dated when I came to London] when an Italian man standing near me said, "Would you like to go out for a drink?"

How do they come up with that stuff?

So yea, the only attention I get is from [you fill in the blanks] instead of the guys I am interested in. When I am interested in a guy, I only get as far as "being friends". (See rant below, yes it is happening again.) I will let you know if that ever changes.

**********

banging head against brick wall

Yet again I have been disappointed. Yet again. Is there some law against me meeting anyone?

The guy who waited for me last week, who promised to be there when I came back, who kept in touch while I was away, and agreed to meeting up this week has let me down. He says his personal circumstances have changed and that he felt bad telling me, but he didn't want to mislead. At least he told me, usually they just disappear and I am left holding my breath for days.

This was the first time I gave my number voluntarily to anyone. For once I felt no intimidation because we have so much in common, are both expats, share similar tastes, and he even looks perfect for me. Have you ever read emails that made you applaud after every paragraph? We couldn't wait to meet. He was nothing like the usual types I come across.

I am so fed up, I don't even know what to think anymore. What a mood to approach my 30th birthday.

Food Tag

Selba tagged me again, which is fine with me because I am just getting over these silly allergies, and becoming very, very bored, which is why I blogged three times yesterday. I have some job applications I am working on, and next week I start a week's booking at an insurance firm in the City.

The rules:
1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you.Include the state and country you’re in.
Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)

2. List out your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location.

3. Tag 5 other people (preferably from other countries/states)[..and let them know they’ve been tagged]

********

Because I have lived in the US as well and I have favourite restaurants there, I hope Selba will forgive me for listing one or two from over there. The places on the top of my list always send me home with a happy tummy and a warm sense of well-being.

I. Yauatcha - an ultra-trendy and very popular Eastern fusion restaurant and teahouse in Soho, has earned Michelin stars and is rated as one of the top 50 restaurants in the UK. This is where I get my designer dim sum with exotic cocktails or jasmine tea, followed by orchid tea (if available) and a neat little shanghai rose cake. There are literally hundreds of teas to choose from, but orchid is my favourite and typically not always in stock. The attention to detail here is perfect, and I have never been disappointed on any visit. Linen napkins, custom one-armed chairs, fresh flowers on each table, walls lined by aquaria, ceilings dotted with stars, well-timed dishes, helpful recommendations from the staff, and a very Zen slate and granite bathroom with Molton Brown toiletries.


Courtesy of Christianlindholm.com


Courtesy of Christianlindholm.com







**********

II. Bhan Thai - So good, even the Thai recommend it. Small, unimposing, but neat with friendly staff who already know my voice on the phone and remember my favourite orders. I try to introduce every visitor to this place, and sometimes treat myself to a free delivery for dinner. Thai food here is perfectly aromatic and served with enthusiasm and warmth. One time, their new delivery driver got lost, so they sent out a fresh hot batch of food and the manager drove him over!



I always order the glass noodle salad, which is a heavenly mix of lemon grass, coriander leaf, fish sauce, red onion, spicy pork (other restaurants may use seafood), peanuts, mushrooms, fresh tomato, chopped chile.

I also love their tender little spring rolls with sweet chili sauce, hot and sour soup, chili and hot basil pork.

**********

III. Cumin - a nouvelle cuisine Indian up the road from me where I also like to feed my friends. The staff here recognise me, and even my mother since every time she visits she begs me to go there. None of the food is heavy, it is fresh, fragrant, clean, simple, and a good balance of flavours.



Here I enjoy the tal tala jhinga (prawns battered in sesame and chili and lightly fried), and other starters, followed by the salmon tikka with their melt in the mouth garlic naan bread. Apple juice blended with a hint of lime is great for cleansing the palate throughout, and finally I like to finish with a cup of steaming fresh chai tea and a bowl of kala jaman (warm sweet dumplings in rose syrup with vanilla ice cream and a sprinkle of pistachio nuts).


Also known as gulab jamun

**********

IV. Los Cucos - founded in Houston and now spread all over the state, you can sit in here and get full on just the free warm tortilla chips, with red chipotle salsa and green tomatillo coriander salsa - which they never stop refilling - and then just take all your dinner home to eat for the next two days! Specially as the menu is like 7 pages long. No special decor, just murals of Mexico and music to match. It's a real family venue.

Whatever you order comes with saffron rice and refried beans on the side, and is nearly always topped with guacamole, pico de gallo, and sour cream. It's hearty, homemade, honest food and always tastes great. I love their enchiladas, beef fajita flautas, shrimp poblano (sauteed in cream sauce with poblano peppers, onions cilantro, mushrooms and parmesan), stuffed deep fried avocadoes, and more. The best thing is you can order a mixed grilled platter which includes a bit of everything you like. When I was being lazy, I would order El Chaparro, which is 1 ground beef crispy taco, 1 cheese enchilada and 1 puff tostada with chile con queso.



It was always nice to round it off with a sopapilla. It seems every culture has its own form of doughnut/pancake in syrup or honey.

**********

V. Saltgrass Steakhouse - although I don't eat steak, I was always stealing bites off my Dad's plate! It is most succulent and perfectly grilled Angus. I chose this over our usual seafood haunts because you can get seafood here, too. The walls are painted with ranching cowboy cattle trail murals and lots of rustic wood, yes you know you are in Texas here. When you sit down they bring you a neat little loaf of Shiner Bock Beer Bread on a board, with a ramekin of honey butter.



I would always order a delicious Caesar salad with homemade garlic croutons. Most American restaurants I used to visit would make a yummy Caesar. Then we might share a few starters, like Range Rattlers (jumbo jalapenos stuffed with whole shrimp, monterey jack cheese, battered and fried. For a main I might order a chicken fried steak with garlic mashed potato, or a platter of grilled jumbo shrimps, or a Texas Cheesesteak Sandwich (a twist on the Philly original using poblano peppers, jack cheese, and smoky chipotle sauce. (Any pepper when roasted becomes chipotle.)



When we ate out in the States we were usually too full for dessert, so we would go home, and an hour or two later have our usual post-dinner treat of tea and cookies. :)

**********

I now tag...(this is hard because everyone is busy or travelling right now...)

1. Lunaliar because she's creative with recipes and lives in Texas too
2. Matt because he claims to be a good cook despite being Welsh
3. Panda-Eyed because she has family in Hong Kong and also experiments in the kitchen
4. Beenzzz
and
5. ML because they are Guyanese, live in America, and I wonder what they like to eat.

P.S. Oops, Pete and Katja, I tagged you on P27 by mistake!

Real Age

You know how people underestimate my age, and everything I said about my family in the last post? Check out what I got in my email just now!

From Realage.com:

"When You Were Just a Baby . . ."

Does your child ever ask what happened the day she was born, how Mom and Dad met, or about other family events from the past?

Take the time to tell her all the details. New research shows that the more a child learns about her family -- and her place in it -- the greater her sense of self-confidence and competence.

RealAge Projection: Kids who have close connections with family and friends generally struggle less with emotional issues. And as adults, these social ties can help them look and feel almost 4 years younger than their calendar age. Imagine that . . . your child, 40 years old but feeling 36.

The whole article can be found here. Tell your children everything.

Weekend and Guyana Story

Rather than staying at home doing laundry and resetting my body clock this weekend, I went to the long-planned surprise birthday party for my friend Nags. Diva had arranged it with us all about 6 weeks ago. Amy and I arrived in quite a panic, as the trains were running late, she had come down to London late from Norwich without the cake, so I left the house early and ran up to the Marble Arch M&S and then over to Paddington. Nags and Diva ended up arriving at the restaurant an hour after, with Diva all out of excuses. Nags was truly surprised, as we had all let on that we had other plans or were broke. The waitress looked like she was leading them to another table, but we were there with our menus hiding our faces, and then we all shouted "Surprise!"

There were about 9 of us plus one empty seat, as Adie had to take a trip to Hong Kong a day early. And she didn't after all, as it took them two days on standby to get a flight!

It was a nice restaurant on the Reading riverside called Santa Fe, with some delicious southwestern/Mexican fare. I ate a chile relleno (filled with seasoned mushrooms, jalapenos and Monterey Jack cheese, breaded with corn meal, and covered in a delicious spicy Asado sauce). With turmeric and coriander rice, and black beans (which I don't like). Along with some of the Pimms in the pitchers at our table, I drank two cocktails: a Metropolitan, which is the same as the Cosmopolitan but with Absolut Kurrant instead of Absolut Citron; and an Apple Bison (apple schnapps, vodka, lime sugar, apple juice, and a mint leaf). It all gave me a good buzz, I just get sparkly eyes and laugh a bit more. None of us were tipsy at all when we left. Anyway, Diva has to steer clear of the drinks now, as she is a few weeks pregnant!

Before dessert, the kitchen sent up the birthday cake with some candles Diva had brought, and then a few of us ordered banana flautas with vanilla ice cream. Flautas (flutes) are just deep fried tortillas with various fillings. In Texas, I used to like beef flautas.

**********

*yawn* more pictures - I know, y'all have seen ever so many lately!



As we do at every night out, we all turned on our phones' Bluetooth to see the names of the other devices in the restaurant. At first Diva, Amy and I got excited that the same guy (nicknamed Manwell Hung) who was at the restaurant during our Christmas dinner was also at Santa Fe, but it turns out that Nags did it this time just to wind us up!

Diva is quite likely going to put together another of her award-winning photostories, so I will link to it when she does.

She did have us take some scary closeups. My phone's flash is absolutely blinding, and it took a few tries not to squint...but, you don't need to see my lifesize eyes!


**********

Now for the story about how so many of my relatives ended up in Texas. Don't read this if you don't like long international stories, you have been warned!

When the former British Guiana (the only English-speaking country in South America) gained independence from Britain in 1964, my family was against it. They lost half their friends when the European companies and their employees were kicked out, and soon after the old society began to disintegrate. Over the next few years, they emigrated to England, Canada and the USA. Coming from a more privileged background with private schooling, it was only logical since they were more Europeanised and had been Christian for generations. My mother preferred to date English guys as she never understood the men of her own culture. Where the Guyanese once intermarried and mixed with friends outside of their own religion or nationality, today the various racial groups have grown closer to their ethnic roots. Guyana was eventually closed to outside influences, and for a short time in the 70s, under the communist government, they received rations from the Soviet Union! Today, however, free trade is returning. Still, government legislation has banned development of the resource-rich interior of Guyana, making it one of the poorest countries in South America.

My uncles Charles and Allan went to Boston, Massachussetts in the late 60s. In the early 80s, uncle Charlie's company transferred him, his wife Rose and 3 kids (Eddie, Evadney and Charlene) to a Dallas suburb. Soon after, when my grandfather had passed away, he sponsored my Gran to join them there. My parents and I spent many holidays with her, and as my Dad already worked in the oil business (and I begged him) he figured it would be a good idea to move out to Texas too. Incidentally, he worked for a financial branch of the US Government for the first four years, but pretty soon his contacts in Houston started to come through, and that is why we spent the last 10 years down there and enjoyed it immensely.

In the early 90s, not long after we arrived, Uncle Allan and his 3 kids (Charlie, Nerissa and Amber) also moved to Dallas. None of the Boston-born cousins have retained any of the northeastern accent - they all sound really, really Texan!

In the mid 90s, my aunt who lives in the south of England also applied for residency. She sponsored her teenage son Nick, who lived in the north of England with his father, but she opted to remain in the UK. He lived with us for the first year or so, and nearly joined us when we moved to the Houston area too. Nick has now developed half a Texas drawl which I find quite funny!

Who else? In the mid 80s, the only aunt, Rohoni, who remained in Guyana through the hard times, came over with her husband. Their six kids (Neil, Marlon, Ryan, Mandy, Andrea, and Fiona) dispersed themselves between Canada and NYC, but one of them (Andrea) moved back to Guyana some years later because of her husband's shipping business, after Guyana was reopened to Western redevelopment. She is now the only remaining relative in the home country. After my uncle died, Aunty Roh moved to Fiona's house in Canada.

In the late 90s, the only uncle remaining in Guyana came over with his wife and their son and two adopted children.

At one point, Gran, Aunty Roh, Uncle Arvo, Uncle Allan and their families all lived on the same block! When we moved there, though, it drove us crazy. It took us a couple of weeks to get out and find our own place in a fantastic town (for Dallas). As I had been in a private school in London, my mother was going to send me to boarding school in town, but when we found out that we were in the best school district in Texas, she decided to send me to middle school down the road. I am so glad she did. I had better schooling there for free than I did for a lot of money in England! When we moved to The Woodlands, we were in the second best school district. I count my American education, including a degree at Houston's most expensive university, as some of the best years of my life. Dad now has thousands of oil and gas contacts in his directory, and for a short time even worked with his old British boss who had also moved to Houston with his family!

Our family is a regular United Nations. Gran's 10 children have married Chinese-, Portuguese-, Muslim-, Hindu-, and Amerindian- Guyanese; two Puerto Rican Americans (the Bostonians) and then a remarriage with a Filipina; two Brits, and one Canadian. I have noticed that of Gran's 24 grandchildren, only four (of Aunty Roh's kids, with a Guyanese father) have married fellow Guyanese. Most second generation Guyanese all over the world intermarry with their new culture. This is why so many of my cousins and their kids are even more mixed than their parents or grandparents.

I am the only cousin to have met everyone in the family because we travelled the most, and I am also the only one to have figured out everyone's relation to each other. I can draw a family tree from scratch, and have done so numerous times for those cousins who have asked, but they still can't remember everything!

Is this all very confusing? Yes, it was heck to write and I hope you're not cross-eyed.

A Week in the Lone Star State

Back from Texas... Gran is going into a nursing home, not what anyone wanted for her, but she is too much of a handful for home care.

Thankfully, the major part of the family who did travel over had the opportunity to say goodbye, so we have closure before it is too late, I guess. She is ready to go - in fact we had a scare on Monday but she rallied quickly. Her body is still hanging on, and her mouth is back on turbo. Still, she told me wonderful things, I held her hands and kissed her face. That will be my last memory of her I think. Granny smiling up at me from the bed, calling me her pretty little Baby (as I always will be no matter what age), telling me all her lovely prayers for me, and the softness of her skin when I kissed her face.

*********

I am currently having a moment where I can't believe I once lived there. In Texas!

Whilst I was there, I ate seafood galore, queso with salsa and chili and corn chips (made with love by my cousin Charlene), chicken fried steak with mashed potato and white gravy (twice)...but no real Tex Mex or IHOP pancakes.

We went shopping at the Vietnamese and Indian markets and had our fill of exotic fruits and tasty produce. And need I mention the awesome clothes shopping?*

I also bonded with cousins I hadn't spent that much time with before, and others who were sort of too young until recently. It was also great being with aunts and uncles I have always loved.
We cousins enjoyed a big meal together, and a few days later everyone who wanted (14 of us) got together for a seafood feast.

On the way back to London on Thursday evening, we flew out ahead of some destructive storm systems sweeping in from Oklahoma and there was a lot of turbulence. It is tornado season there. But we left behind temps in the low 20s C (low 70s F) and came to 9 C (upper 40s F) so I have felt cold all day with the grey dampness, tiredness, jet lag, and ill-timed hunger. I think I slept for less than an hour on the unusually long 9 hour flight. However, I did watch The Devil Wears Prada and then borrowed the book from my aunt when we got to her place.

**********

I am no fan of cricket but I do keep hearing about the cricket matches being played in Georgetown, Guyana, the [somewhat faded] "Garden City of the Caribbean". So I went to the BBC Venue Guide for the England team tour of the West Indies. Three paragraphs in the middle were written in exactly this order:

Despite its beauty, don't be fooled into lowering your security precautions whilst you're in the city.

Never walk the streets of the city at night and always avoid the Tiger Bay area just west of Main Street and Albouystown south of the centre.

One thing you definitely should do in the city is join what appears to be most of Georgetown and take an early evening stroll on the seawall as the sun sets.

Do you detect a contradiction here?

**********


Some pics from the past week:

Cousins Dinner - The Grill at The Galleria, Dallas



Clockwise L to R: Evadney and her longtime partner Stan (both personal trainers; they have kids). Nick (grew up in the UK and moved to Tx over 10 years ago, and now sounds halfway like a Texan). Charlene (Evadney's younger sister, very Texan though born in Boston). Elizabeth (one of my British cousins and my godmother). Me. Amber (on her last year of high school and wants to be a kinesiologist). Rachel (wife of Charlene and Evadney's brother Eddie, who is not there - he went out with the uncles). Sabrina (a bank manager at the WTC in the first bombing, worked nearby on 9/11, and now lives safely in Florida).


1994 Lamborghini Diablo:



Charlene's neighbour is an exotic car dealer who borrows the other half of her garage to store his latest acquisitions. Every couple of days there is a new surprise. This one is purple and we girl cousins got the keys and played around with it. He allows her drive them, but she wouldn't dare.

Liv (Nearly At) the Wheel:



I got in and could barely reach the pedals or the wheel. It was awkward fun getting the door open, though.

Gran's daughters stayed in her apartment; Elizabeth, being a director and all, got to stay in her own luxurious hotel room with adjustable air beds; I stayed with Charlene, though Liz said I could have stayed with her the whole time.

Charlene works for a financial software company, has a big new SUV, parked at her own two bedroom/two bathroom home in a quiet neighbourhood. She redecorated the place herself in really cozy velvets and suedes in warm neutrals with wood and wrought iron furniture in a sort of Spanish/ranch/prairie style. She has endless rooms and doors and storage closets, a deck built for entertaining with a bar, refrigerator, benches, jacuzzi, gazebo...very cute. It would have felt average to us coming from our place in The Woodlands, but after living in London, it looked like luxury. We never really liked the town they all live in, and yet after landing and finding myself appalled at the mess of everything in England on the drive from the airport, I found myself reevaluating my entire reasoning for continuing the struggle here...

Coincidentally, in the car this morning we were listening to the stories of other expats who, returning to England from Tanzania, Australia or the US, are never really settled in either place as they go back and forth over the years. I know what they mean. It almost makes you want to give up both and try another place, as if three makes a balance.


P.S. If you want to know how so many relatives ended up in Tx, I would be glad to share the story.

* Great brands for less than half the price you would pay in Europe.

Letter from Texas

Hi Everyone,

Thanks for all your good wishes, thoughts and prayers.

Just an update:

My gran has improved a great deal. Monday she came out of the coma/delerium and started teasing everyone, but is refusing food and remains on IV drips for nutrition and antibiotics (to prevent infections). There are moments when she doesn't see us, or thinks we are other people, but then she figures it out later; she is also advising and encouraging us all for the future, telling a lot of childhood stories and seeing relatives that she will join on the other side.

It was touching that she declared my Mum was keeping her back - thinking that since my parents split up, she needed her mother.

We had a scare yesterday and we all gathered at the hospital, but she pulled out of that too.
This could go on for days or weeks. (I may have to come back...)

We are arranging for hospice care at home in preparation for when the hospital releases her. So yesterday we stripped the walls, wiped everything down, threw things away and gave away furniture in preparation for the hospital bed being delivered today.

**********

In better news, 14 of us gathered at Red Lobster for a feast last night - my cousin Elizabeth paid and we teased her because she is director of London charities, but she said it was OK since paying dollars makes it half price.

Last Saturday, most of the cousins in town got together for dinner as well, at a fancy Grill at the Galleria. That was expensive but we split it.

**********

I haven't been able to see my friends in the area because our car is the day taxi and my mother can't drive well at night. I don't know Dallas and am not allowed to drive her rental car - I've never been stopped by police in my life, but she won't relent. This sucks because you'd think there would be enough time in the day, but there isn't. Someone always needs to be driven somewhere, or there's shopping and cooking to do, or hospital visits, or something...I can't ask Gigi to come and get me because she can't drive outside of her familiar area, plus I am afraid of the disability controls she uses. It's not fair to ask my other friends to come here either...anyway, I leave tomorrow...

But we have to remember this is not a pleasure trip. Mum and I were arguing about that, on the way to Gigi's house because we were halfway there when Mum remembered that some family friends who had been keeping boxes from our house in their giant garage had finally allowed her to go there in the afternoon and pick up what she wanted. We argued because I had promised Gigi I'd see her, but I got blamed for an arrangement I had made the day before with her approval simply because she had found out later that we could get our stuff.

She had also given them a lot of things...It is weird going into people's houses and seeing your own furniture and decor integrated into every room. It happens all over the family now - reminders of our former life have been dispersed into all their homes in Texas, Canada, and England. Most weird to see my old Peter Rabbit keyring hanging out of my uncle's pocket...

So yesterday I was taking family photos out of frames and putting them in a folder so I can easily bring them with me to London. Some were specially mounted and framed, so those my mother will take to Canada and store under the bed.

Life is full of changes, isn't it? Sometimes we have no choice but to go along with it, no matter how much you must lose.

Sad news

My dear readers, I have some sad news. I have booked a last minute flight to Dallas because my Granny is dying. She was rushed to the ICU this morning. Her systems are shutting down and the only thing keeping her alive are the machines. And so, we all have to be there and arrange her funeral before the end of next week.

She has had her ups and downs over the past couple of years, but was doing quite well this year. That's the way it is. We have known for a few years that this could happen at any time, but no matter how long you expect it, the actual event is always a surprise, so needless to say, today was all panic stations.

She has been a true matriarch. Mother of 10 children, 24 grandchildren and countless great-grands, and always the toast of every family gathering, full of spriteliness and never short of words.

Even outside her family, she was an influential lady and earned the love and respect of hundreds of people over the years. From being Lady Jo in Guyana, an upstanding member of the community, to everyone's granny in Texas and Sunday school teacher to kids who are now parents themselves - there will be a lot of love in the room when we say goodbye.

When I was born early in 1977, my grandfather, who was himself in ill health, sent her to London "to see the tiny baby". She spent 3 months here helping my mum, and she always had a special soft spot in her heart for me...I know what her greatest prayer has always been; she waited for so long, and it hurts that she won't be around to see it happen one day.

And so, within a month of the arrival of the youngest member of the family, the eldest has departed.

**********

Don't worry too much about me. I am sure I will be fine when I come back. Don't forget the art history assignment from the last post because I look forward to working on that later.

See you soon!

Olivia
xxx

Assign Me

I don't know what to blog! I am having a week in limbo. I didn't get the job at the arts council, but I have two applications to send in this week.

**********

After a promising start to the spring (remember my London walk last week?), winter is back. The south of France and London were both cold as each other, about 5 degrees C (upper 40s F). The heating is back on, plus my little space heater is back in service, and it was even too chilly to have my window open a crack as it usually is in winter - I guess I had acclimatised to milder weather.

It is supposed to snow somewhere this week too.

**********

I had an idea whilst I was washing dishes this weekend. I shall open the comments to anonymous voting - on any point of art history that you would like me to research and write about. (But please nothing after the 20th century.)

Go on, get your thinking caps on! But remember, make your vote anonymous so that I can't be accused of favouritism.

**********

And finally for the listening (not necessarily viewing) pleasure of you old-timers out there.

Little Ones

OK, so where was I? Didn't blog much this week, did I?

I promised a baby blog. Selba tagged me last week for my baby photo, and then I got pics of my lovely goddaughter.




Look, the unruly hair hasn't changed much...check out the awful 1970s colours.






I can't believe my cousin is a mommy! Say hello to Jada Alyse, my cutie-pie goddaughter, born 1 March weighing 5 pounds. That baby carrier just swallows her up. Alyssa tells me she doesn't cry much. I love the top left pic because it looks like she and her mom are sharing a moment, and she looks like a doll.

I can't wait to meet her! I feel so loving in my heart when I look at her!

Have a great weekend, y'all. xxx

Fresh Eyes

A few points before I get to the meat of today's post:

I. When someone about to interview you says you have an impressive CV, are they just saying that, or do they mean it?

My "impressive" CV hasn't served me well since I got it!

**********

II. Yesterday was a long hard day at a venture capital firm in the City, not far from where I worked last year at M-C.
The kitchen was fancy - red cabinetry and stainless steel fittings, all automatic soft-close. However, it wasn't stocked with as much tea or biscuits and fruits as at M-C, which definitely had a snacking culture as well as lunch delivered in. But...this place had a mini cafeteria with free food! So between midday and 1.30 pm you can go eat. Chili con carne and wild rice, tacos (the first I have seen on offer in London), baked potato, three types of salad, fruit plates, cheese and cracker plates...


**********
**********

Every spring, there comes one day when I fall in love with London all over again. Today was the day.

I went to the interview at the Arts Council this morning in bright warm sunshine. It was a straight shot down the Jubilee line to Westminster and barely took half an hour door to door. Whilst dodging tourists, I got to walk past the Houses of Parliament, ask a cute police officer if I was going in the right direction, and gawk at lots of exquisite architecture.

The building I went into was also lovely on the outside. Red brick with stonework, big vaulted wooden doors, and in the lobby there was a stone fireplace and oak "linenfold" panelling.

It was a casual interview with two people, so I was in for only 20 minutes. They liked some of the things I said. I was put on the spot a few times when I had to answer impressively about the role of art in modern life and why looking back at history is important. It's funny how in interviews you can come up with stuff you didn't know you knew. They made all the right sounds of approval. At the end I even asked some questions about which organisations were involved in the project and what they hope it will have become by the end of the year. They said that was a good question.

I got chatting with the receptionist. She is from Los Angeles, also with a master's degree in art history. She did a bit of finance here and nearly died inside, so she is happier earning less in a gentler environment.

I know I will miss earning that kind of money. It will be nearly half what I was getting at M-C, when all I did there was audio, and here I will be an actual project administrator. Oh bah humbug. The compromises we have to make...

**********

When I left the building, I wandered around soaking in the warm sunshine, and taking in the beauty of Westminster Palace and its environs. In fact, I wished I had my camera with me. It's a good thing my phone camera is good for blogging. Unfortunately, I ran out of space faster than usual since I had uploaded some MP3s onto my media stick, not leaving much room for photos.

And while I was out, I fell in love with London again, as I do one day every spring. Life begins again. There were miles of daffodils in St James's and Green Parks, blushing blossoms on the trees, courting pigeons underfoot. The air was light, the sky was blue, the sun was warm, and the breeze was soft. I felt happy.

I walked through St James's Park, crossed Pall Mall and passed Buckingham Palace (Her Majesty was at home), then through Green Park to Piccadilly and along there to Fortnum & Mason. I haven't been there in many months.

I saw my old friend, a lady who has worked at the deli since I was studying at Christie's. I used to go there for more affordable sandwiches and wraps than those offered at nearby Italian cafes, and she and I would chat. She missed seeing me and said I ought to go round more often. They no longer make sandwiches like they used to, but she offered to make me one anyway, and any time I ever want one. She said she would have liked it if I got a job at the Royal Academy across the road.

I always treat myself after interviews, I don't know why. I bought my usual medium box of assorted chocolates, and she even managed to fit in a couple of marrons glaces (glaced chestnuts), a box of Rose Pouchong tea, a jar of rose and geranium jelly, a jar of quince jelly (I had to stop there or else I would have brought home the violet jelly, lavender jelly, earl grey tea jelly, pomegranate jelly, and rose petal jelly too!), some Bahlsen choc and coconut biscuits, a box each of Duchy Originals sweet oat cakes (the best) and cracked black pepper oat cakes, a lemon for my smoked salmon (forgot yesterday, and have discovered that undressed salmon is a bit ick), a bottle of F&M chili tomato ketchup, some old fashioned sausages, and a box of freshly handmade asparagus and padano ravioli.

Oh, me spoilt, I know :P
Totally...

**********


Westminster Palace:



























Parliament Square



Thought the Americans would like this one. A bus, the bell tower of Westminster Palace (only the bell is called Big Ben!), and the London Eye across the river.



Westminster Palace peeping out from behind Westminster Abbey




Crossing Pall Mall between St James's Park and Green Park, Buckingham Palace is on the left. Her Majesty was at home...

Weekend Escapade

What a busy weekend I have had!

VIVA ITALIA

On Friday, Miss S and I went to the Viva Italia! exhibition. Ate lots of goodies and freebies. Alfa Romeo had a display area with two vintage models and three new ones.

There were two vintage Spiders with a new one, all three red. Beautiful cars. I was enjoying the aggressive front grilles. Ooooh and the new Spider was fitted out by Pininfarina!




**********

After parting with Miss S, I kept walking up Kensington High Street, up Kensington Church Street, all the way to Notting Hill Gate. I was looking for the new Whole Foods Market that supposedly opened on the high street, until after I returned home I found out that's not until summer.

I was surprised that Whole Foods has reached the UK. It started in Austin, Texas in the early 80s! No surprise that the world's largest organic/natural food retailer comes from Austin (if it had to be from TX), otherwise it would have been California.

Apparently they have a few outposts in London already called Wild n Fresh. I saw one in Camden today.

**********

FULL SPEED AHEAD

On Saturday, I went to see my favourite anonymous commenter, the former Delightful, to repeat what we did last year in his first new sporty car, only this time it was a Porsche 911 in electric blue. He is the boy with all the toys, I tell you.

But because it was so fast, the drive this year seemed shorter. We went over 100mph so many times I lost count, and the Porsche is so solid and grippy that you don't feel it and don't notice it unless you're staring a the speedometer. He might not like to hear it, but he drives just like I used to. Boy do I miss taking corners diagonally to the inside, and doing The Sweep on cars littering up the fast lane.

Guess the top speed we reached, busy British motorways allowing? 134mph. But don't tell anyone.

Since moving to St John's Wood, where one goes by every half hour, I have learned to recognise the big hollow grumble of a Porsche driving by. This car, when you hit that optimal speed just right, sounds like how the sweet spot on a tennis racquet feels....know what I mean? There's a sort of a long ping...which I first noticed with my Dad's car, only better.

We were back in the abbey town of St Albans, this time at a trendy restaurant where we shared a starter of corn cakes with fresh salsa and guacamole - well made, considering. F-D was very good and predicted that I would go for it, bless his cotton socks, so he ordered it.

For mains he had spaghetti with crab and chili, and I had the best cod ever. Moist, succulent, tender, and falling apart on a bed of bok choi, in a miso sauce sprinkled with sesame seeds.

Then we went for another rather fast drive with the music cranked up. F-D thought Muse's Hysteria was a good fast drive track, so we played that a few times and I sang my heart out, though it didn't work so well going over bumps with sports suspension.

We ended up at the cinema in Finchley where we didn't like the lineup, so F-D suggested the O2 Centre near me, where we plumped for Ghost Rider and then when it was over I got the blame for choosing a bad film. He's such a cheery bugger. Finally we stopped at Sainsbury's and did a bit of shopping - well, I mentioned everything else so there is no point leaving that out.

Ghost Rider ... hm, the fiery bits were ok, but there were also scary bits. I jumped about 4 times and screamed twice. The Texas talk made me laugh a whole lot. "...you're purdy and all..." There were quite a few laugh out loud bits.

I just knew it was Texas as soon as I saw the open country with the short trees and the meadows of bluebells. If you've lived there, you never get it out of your system. No sirreee.

**********

Tomorrow, I am going to a seafood restaurant for my 2nd cousin's 6th birthday. We go there every year for birthdays, so it will be predictable. Adults, kids, food, toys. And an aunt who will ask me too many questions that I don't want to answer.


I had better end this on a better note:



Yes, the Porsche has hips!

Bok! The Bunnies!

I love how the chickens

1) Run over to break up the fight with a few frontal shoves

2) Stare the bunnies down while tempers cool

3) Strut off together with a warning "bok!"

Keeping the mean streets safe from marauding lagomorphs.

post PMS PMS

Gosh, what did they put in the water? I laughed at all sorts of things today:

Tom Hanks in Money Pit when he gets stuck in a hole in the floor for a day and a night and his girlfriend is going all over the house calling for him and can't find him.


Mel Gibson in The Patriot when he watches the French general primping before going into battle, and the embarrassed face when he gets caught looking.

All the way through a couple of emails from two friends.

**********

What a busy day on the phone. A consultant called asking if I wanted her to put me through for a two-day temp at the Arts Council. I said yes please. She called back saying, tough luck, but the info to be dealt with was so sensitive that they didn't want someone who might potentially work for them again one day. (So when do I start???)

Later she called again asking if she could put me forward for a 9-day booking at an Italian oil and gas company (my dad worked for one of their subsidiaries once). But then she called back and even though recommending me first she said they chose someone with more PA experience. So she recommended me to a colleague who has a 2-month booking at the London Development Agency (2012 Olympics and all that!). Coincidentally, my landlord's organisation has regular dealings with them. I will hear by lunchtime tomorrow if I've got it.

**********


Random stuff:

Ever since I told my friends I like Family Guy, I've been forgetting to watch it. Stewie is priceless, oh absolutely yes.

I found out that racecar backwards is racecar.

Just before my birthday, I should receive my free upgrade to Windows Vista Premium (yes!), I suppose because I have Windows XP Media Center...

I briefly considered trying a few months in France as I was waking up this morning. My 12 years of language study needs hammering back into shape. And, you know, maybe French guys aren't as "fussy" as English guys about what they want in a girl.

**********

Speaking of which:

Trying to get a date is as hard as getting a job. Send a CV, no reply. Answer a personal, no reply. And the same principle applies to both: You can't get a job without experience, can't get experience without a job. Although by now, my job experience outweighs dating experience. What are they looking for???

And yet I get more replies from personals than from job applications, but it goes downhill from there. I am not tall, curvy, leggy, busty, blonde. I am also fed up of guys who say they want a girl with a brain and that looks don't matter. "You're smaller than I'd expected." "You've got short hair." Well, you knew that before, so what?

Recently a pretty good looking guy, my age, said that what I wrote him stood out "above all the rest" as something written by someone he would like to meet. After I sent my photo did I hear back from him? Well, let's just say how many times can someone claim not to have received your photos sent 3 times to both address?

Then there was the one who sounded just like Rupert Everett and shared so many of my more obscure old fashioned interests. He called me and promised an evening of dinner and the theatre after he finished marking his students' literature exams, and had even made up a fun nickname for me. Nada.

Who would be proud to have me on his arm? Probably someone I couldn't stand. For instance, a couple of years ago I went on at least 4 dates with an utterly boring man that I could not get rid of. He was nice in the worst possible way, but we had nothing in common and he had a very limited range of topics. He just seemed sort of intrigued by my way of life, and I started to feel like I was going to be his free ride into society. So I have learned that "just nice" doesn't work, there has to be something more.

Then there was the scary Slovak who practically stalked me for months. Well educated and intelligent, but so intimidating in an incessant Russian way. I didn't like something about his weak chin either. The worst thing is I met him through my aunt, who totally vouched for him. I didn't even date him, he just assumed I was and started calling me cringeworthy nicknames after the 4th time I saw him, and even assumed he could tell me what to do. When the sight of someone causes the smile on your face to drop, then you know it's time to escape. Like magnets repel.

And yet, after that I managed to wrangle 2 dates with a guy who looked just right for me, he played the violin, was Italian-Greek from France, and we had a load of things in common - very much with the same upbringing and foundation. His English was perfect as he had studied in the States, but we started to speak an English-French mix. He put me on the bus and I never heard from him again. A few weeks later I found his profile again, and guess what he had done? Essentially described me as his ideal match, down to the curly hair.

Only one normal, well brought up and very attractive person put up with me for 4 months, and I don't know why he bothered, as in the end it pretty much came down to the gap in experience between two similarly-aged people.

My barely recovered self confidence was shot for a year after that. It's back now, but I'm starting to worry about when I start going to those gatherings where people meet each other. Will my attitude be different to what it was a year and a half ago? My whole body of experience hasn't been very encouraging, and I am so behind...plus I lost every ounce of confidence after my parents divorced a few years ago, and many would say that it should have no effect on me, but I am an only child and we were unbelievably close; still are, just not as a trio - I actually had physical reactions to the situation, and now am more cynical and put less faith in what men say.

The longer I stay single, the more difficult it is not to panic when a guy I like pays me attention. They just don't understand. They think that the way I am acting is me playing games, when it is actually me not being able to figure out how to handle things. It takes me weeks to get over the fact that he wants to hold my hand! It took me many months after the breakup with the last guy to stop feeling nervous around him, and of course by then it was way too late.

Make no mistake, there was a time when I thought that I could go out with nearly any man I chose, but of course after finding out that wasn't true, and just how different I really was, and that inexperience counts against you, well that was a huge shock.

God, I am in trouble...

Sorry. It's not like me to complain about these things to you, but sometimes it does overwhelm me. You see, I have found out that I am the sort of girl that everyone wants to pat on the head and protect. And they end up just being friends. I have this sinking feeling of disappointment in the pit of my stomach at the moment.


(I think I'm going to regret posting this, and I know what you all are going to say. You're all going to be nice and say the right things, but I'm not even sure I want comments.)

Ugh. This is worse than last week when I actually had PMS.....

I promise to be more cheerful next time I blog. There will be lots to talk about, anyway.

Robomop

I watched I, Robot last night for about the third time. I've said it before, but I will say it again. I am intrigued by Sonny. I love the expression in his eyes, the vulnerability in his voice, and the way he makes us sympathise with him.
I also liked Teddy, the bear-bot in A.I.. But...they were not real...

Sony has discontinued its trainable robo-dog AIBO as well as the mini humanoid Qrio (cost: approx. $2500), and the Sega i-Dog (£12.99) is lame. Then there is the somewhat intelligent RoboSapiens (£200ish) by Wowee. But Asimo is pretty cool. You may have seen him in the last Honda ad. He's so adorable and seems so eager to please, you just want to bless his little rubber socks. And he looks like a wee little spaceman!

As long as they don't humanise them too much, I think robot helpers will be fine.

Check out the videos of what the lil' fellow can do, on the Honda Asimo website. He - I mean, it - can climb stairs, run fast and slow, run in a curve, sidestep, kick a ball, dance, recognise faces and simple gestures, walk backwards, respond to pressure by adjusting its stance, wait for someone to cross its path before continuing, hold a human hand and walk, carry a tray, push a cart...and it does have to learn these things on its own by making calculations and adapting.

**********

That wasn't what I really meant to blog about. Last week I had a joyful reunion with the writings of Michael Crichton. I read Timeline. It's sort of about quantum physics and time travel to the 14th century, only the developers in the book don't call it that because they say time travel, per se, is not possible. Instead, they talk about multiverses. More than one universe - I suppose what we know as parallel universes. So here is the question I scribbled on a scrap of paper in the Tube one morning:

If it is not time travel but MULTIVERSES, then how can the Professor travel to the 14th century AND leave a note that will be excavated in the 20th century to be found by his OWN team and not some other team in another multiverse - or not be found at all, if in one universe the site has not been discovered or is inactive?

Because the rep from the company that developed the quantum travel described it thus:

"...the universe we see...was just one of an infinite number of universes, existing side by side.
Each of these universes was constantly splitting, so there was a universe where Hitler lost the war, and another where he won; a universe where Kennedy died, and another where he lived."

Most of us have had that sort of conversation before - what if he did, what if he didn't - but it's the crossover here that confuses me. The Professor visiting in 1357 loses his glasses in the scriptorium and his colleague Kate in 1999 excavates them the day after he travelled there. The manuscript specialist finds a parchment note in his handwriting asking them for help, including the date and the solution to a code.

Fine, if it were mere time travel...but how can he be in another universe?

Another thing that was mentioned but not resolved was the fact that the time travellers are split at the home end, and they disappear, but it is not they but their counterparts from another universe that are reassembled at the destination - because in our universe they figured out how to transport them but not how to reassemble them, so our scientists are relying on those from another universe that have reassembly capability...body swap? So, where do our travellers go meantime, into the ether? And how come their counterparts know the same things as they do?

And if they compress not a person but the information equivalent of a person, as in a fax, then how does that person go and fight battles and draw blood on the other side?

This is making the idea of the Matrix sound simple. So, enough quantum mechanics for now because even the physicist Richard Feynman said in 1967: "Nobody understands quantum theory."


**********

Check out my new flipped hairstyle:

















When I first cut it short 7 years ago, it was drastic. I never thought I could keep it at this moderate length and that it would still be (somewhat) controllable. But I did miss my curls and really needed to feel softer and more feminine, and wanted to see how far I could push it. I've been growing it since last autumn with only a couple of reshape trims since then.

At the salon on Friday night, the stylist only chipped the weight off the back so she could work it. She styled it carefully with her fingers - no tools - and a hairdryer, working out the top, straightening the strands, pulling out the sides (which is where she utilised the natural fannish tendency of the left side, of which the right was easy to imitate). Still, that frontal wave refuses to go. It now insists on returning to a distinct curl. Ah well. C'est ma vie.

*Fanfare*

Pass out the chocolate cigars - I am a godmother! (Or in our family, a "nen". It's a Guyanese thing.)

My Canadian cousin Alyssa brought daughter Jada into the world today, weighing nearly 6 pounds, reportedly with long limbs like her Mommy. And it was by C-section because Baby hadn't turned and they delivered her a couple of weeks early so that Lyss wouldn't go into breech labour.

It was Alyssa whose boyfriend Roger (her best ever and the one she was going to marry) passed away tragically and unexpectedly last September aged only 25 of a brain aneurysm, and I wrote a very distraught post about it. His family is standing by 100% and treats Lyss just like a daughter in law. This is going to be one very loved baby - all the families involved are over the moon.

Lyss was one of those mums-to-be who chose not to find out the gender of the baby, having the inhuman ability to wait 9 months to find out. Most of us wanted it to be a girl, even Lyss's brothers Mike and Paul. At least now I am totally prepared, thanks to my own godmother Elizabeth, who is also my cousin.

I am going to give her one or two Beatrix Potter books every year, like my Nen did. She contributed greatly to my early library and love of books and reading, as well as to my love of handmade boxes (though that is not exactly something I plan to pass on!)

Here's to years of Winnie the Pooh, Beatrix Potter, Dr Seuss...suppose I should have brushed up on the new stuff too. Any suggestions?

Needless to say, I will be taking my place at the Christening.

Can't wait to see pics!

**********