But before I start, do you remember my Food Tag? I have been quoted on the restaurant's website!
Cumin Indian Restaurant
**********
And now on to yesterday's excitement. After work I went to see American Boy; I was already dressed for the evening out, but he had to get all prettied up. You know how Americans like to go smart casual in khaki pants, navy blue blazer, nice tie (yellow), loafers. OK first off, he's 27, but when we met him G and I thought he was in his early 30s because on his best behaviour he acts that way. When smart, he's a Ralph Lauren/Brooks Bros/Jermyn Street kinda guy, but proper dress down is the college uniform of frayed jeans, t-shirt or polo shirt and baseball cap with matching boyish humour. Like two totally different people looking about 10 years apart and two vastly different personalities.
By the way, a lady at House of Fraser yesterday thought I was 18 or 19. And you all know I am not. I can have this conversation with people every day, for some reason.
[Now it is YOUR turn to tell me about your dual personalities...I dare you!]
You may have noticed that the day was gloomy but it did not rain - well, the moment we stood on the kerb/curb to hail a taxi, the rain came down in sheets, and an empty taxi did not appear for at least 10 minutes. We had a big umbrella but were still damp and crinkled when we finally got into one. And then the driver would NOT shut up, he went on and on about things I need not afflict you with. R played along with a few comments which only fuelled the fire, and then after we got out he said, "Good lord, that driver would not shut the **** up."
It had taken ages to get to the Tower via the traffic diversions, and then we only had about 45 minutes to eat. We chose an old establishment that claimed to serve steaks but did not, and to top it all off it was the sort of bland English food that I thought no longer existed. Cold ham with piccalilli, grilled sea bass with nooo seasoning whatsoever...it was quiet, wood-panelled, dreary and with the rain, quite depressing, and the other people in there were American which actually ticked off R quite a bit, as we were forced to overhear the girl at the other table tell silly stories about giant cockroaches from Texas. Not that there aren't any, but we did not appreciate hearing about them whilst eating, ugh...And then there was the older lady who came in and nasally announced that she just haad to orderrr fish and chips.
As quick as we could we hot-footed it to the Tower. How can I stop R from carrying the umbrella even when we are not using it? He wields it rather too well and I have to be quick or he'll hook me with it. We got to the gate where W (from last Friday's double date, remember) and the Yeoman warder were waiting to let us in, and then we met W's relatives on holiday here from Virginia. W's wife O had dropped out, being too tired from all the walking around they did in the day. As soon as we got in the Yeoman put all his arms around me and teased me, and R said he could have me, and I made as though to punch R, and the Yeoman predicted a little domestic at the Tower tonight.
We went to the Yeoman's club on the grounds, where I guess the Tower's residents meet to socialise. It is full of memorabilia and plaques from all the official visitors such as police departments and clubs and the like worldwide. We joined about 15 other people on the same special tour. We had a sit down and some drinks while we waited for the Yeoman of the Guards to take us out. We remained a little apart from the hoi polloi, the general public there for the same spectacle, and our group of 7 received a special welcome for some reason.
It was hard to see, but W's aunt placed me and her daughter near the front. R stood on the short wall over the water at Traitor's Gate and was motioning me over to join him, but I am not sure I wanted to stand there, though later he said he would have prevented me from falling in. Yeah right.
I am faffing about because I can't quite tell you what happened. Let's see. It was getting dark; the rain had ceased. A cadre of Royal Marines came marching in to challenge the Chief Yeoman Warder bearing the keys. Once they had shoutily established in a longish back and forth that he was indeed a friend not a foe and that they were the keys of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, the marines escorted him to the outer gate which he locked, then the inner gate, also locked, then we followed them all to the steps where they did a bit of marching about, a bugle call sort of like taps, and then they marched off. And we returned to the club for a last drink and chat.
W's relatives were tired as it was now nearly 10.30 pm, but the Yeoman once again took to attacking me, this time in an attempt at strangulation. R took a photo though we were on better behaviour then. Whilst I was talking to W's cousin, I overheard my name and asked what was going on, and R said "Nothing, just stand there and look pretty" but in the meantime I was being reserved for another double outing this weekend, and a few minutes later I overheard W ask, "Is she going?" and R looked over at me and said, "Yes, she is." I said, "To what?" Apparently, a July 4th do at a place that will be a story in itself so you will just have to come back and find out.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Wild Child
Thursday, though he didn't get off work as early as he'd hoped, American Boy did still take me to dinner in Chinatown. He did not like sending me home past midnight in the bus, and always pays the taxi fare.
So there I was yesterday thinking we'd meet at around 7 for dinner on Friday. However, mid afternoon he called to ask if I'd be ok getting off work at 5 or 5.30. I was fine with that. At 4.30 I got a text saying to meet him now! So, at 4.35, I walked out of the office - that was clever, giving me a double fare yesterday in anticipation of today. He was already at the restaurant - Tuttons, where we had been last week at the opera. When I asked how he had managed to get out of the office so early, he said he'd "just up and left". We sat at the bar with drinks and olives until our 5.30 table reservation came up with a nice view over the square. He doesn't really like olives and fed them to me, so when I said he should have mentioned that when the barman gave me a choice of munchies, he said it was alright because if I'm happy he's happy. How cute is that?
When we got our table, he ordered wine and a plat de charcuterie; I guess his German side rules there. W & his wife O were nearly an hour late, so I was already nicely mellow by then. R said they were lovely, and they were; very sweet, slightly shy, with an air of innocence (though R says W has a raunchy sense of humour - well, don't all military boys when they are together?); a nice couple. I had ricotta and sweet potato tortellini, R had rare tuna steak, O had grilled sea bass, and W had pork loin. They enjoyed the food and O filled out a comments card. When it came to dessert, only we girls ordered, which is the wrong way round, isn't it? I had a brownie with ice cream and she had a sticky toffee pudding and licked the plate clean, whereas I, having had a head start on the eating with the charcuterie plate, halted halfway through and remained full for hours afterwards.
Covent Garden was unusually dead for a Friday night, and that was definitely not because a few thousand people had gone off to Glastonbury...and surely not because there was a bit of rain. Where were the tourists? We were at a loss as to what to do - W was sure he would fall asleep if he sat down at a show or the cinema, so we stopped in a very pretty pub with high ceilings and amazing plaster friezes along the ceilings. O and I sat on a very high, slippery banquette and the only thing keeping us on it was the fact that we were leaning on the table. At first when we sat, a group of 3 guys oohed and aahed at us until W and R came back with their beers.
As we walked up the road with the boys holding the umbrellas, I backchatted R, and we got into a scuffle in which he lifted me up and I whacked him with my jacket. O and W, walking behind, threatened to report domestic violence. :)
Then we parted ways and R took me to a casino, the wicked boy. A nice one with no tourists, and a jazz singer. It was the first time I've ever used my Texas drivers license as ID in this country. What would I have used otherwise???
Anyway, we ordered G&Ts and found a blackjack table for about an hour and won a bit. When W called to say that Glastonbury was live on TV, R actually made me answer the phone which discombobulated both W and me for a couple of seconds! I rarely answer other people's phones. I was somewhat out of it for about an hour or so also, because I really had eaten too much and was unpleasantly stuffed and slightly queasy.
After blackjack we moved to poker. I have played blackjack before in the past at a spring formal but with no money: we were given an allotted number of free chips and I won an imaginary $40,000. By the time we got to the poker table, I was coming back to myself, but have never been able to grasp the concept of poker. So R tried to teach me with utmost patience because although I began to get it after a while, sort of, I think I am a hopeless case. He was impressed that I kept us going for a couple of hours though. It's nice winning on someone else's money. He cashed in the chips and gave me a cut, and forced me to admit that I found it "vaguely interesting" because he noticed the point at which I got this look of concentration on my face...
Good lord have mercy, the boy is just a bundle of mischief and really keeps me on my rusty old toes. And he wants to know why he gets so many dark looks shot his way?!
So anyway, I have won £50. What should I do with it???
P.S. I have a headache.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Idle chatter
One week left at this job. I did a handover briefing yesterday. Now working on archiving stuff. Nevertheless I was so bored today, I felt queasy. Has that ever happened to you?
Oh, and bad news. I didn't get the coin department job. Ugh.
I have said "ugh" a lot today. This job is turning me into a neo-troglodyte.
The weekend will be great, though. I am going off to see the old gang in Reading. We haven't seen each other in months, since Diva was very (and is still quite) ill with her pregnancy and the M.E. But she will put a brave face on and do the BBQ she has been looking forward to for so many weeks.
American Boy worked very late a couple of days this week and to make up for it wanted to get us both out of the office as early as 3pm today so we could paint the town red; is currently trying, but has not succeeded so far. The demands of serving one's country...
Though tomorrow, there is a double date with his friend and wife, planned since last week.
Oh look, something popped into my Inbox...some more artists applications. That will kill some time. Must be off.
Oh, and bad news. I didn't get the coin department job. Ugh.
I have said "ugh" a lot today. This job is turning me into a neo-troglodyte.
The weekend will be great, though. I am going off to see the old gang in Reading. We haven't seen each other in months, since Diva was very (and is still quite) ill with her pregnancy and the M.E. But she will put a brave face on and do the BBQ she has been looking forward to for so many weeks.
American Boy worked very late a couple of days this week and to make up for it wanted to get us both out of the office as early as 3pm today so we could paint the town red; is currently trying, but has not succeeded so far. The demands of serving one's country...
Though tomorrow, there is a double date with his friend and wife, planned since last week.
Oh look, something popped into my Inbox...some more artists applications. That will kill some time. Must be off.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Two Works
Antony Gormley's Angel of the North, 1994 - on a hill overlooking Gateshead, Tyneside, UK
Arturo Ballester, Loor a los heroes, Confederacion Nacional del Trabajo poster response to the 1936 Spanish Revolution.
What do you think? Discuss.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Donnnn Giovaaaaaaannniiiiii
By the way, 12 June was the day we emigrated to the US 18 years ago. It's funny that my parents never remember. I always have to remind them.
***
So OK, I have not been blogging. No time!
On Wednesday, Capt America picked me up at work early and we reached Covent Garden in time to snag seats on a restaurant terrace with good views of the big screen. The Royal Opera House was putting on a live screening of its production of Mozart's Don Giovanni (it is CA's fave opera, and one of my preferred because I love Mozart).
Tell you what, don't ever eat smoked salmon with just lemon and black pepper again. He made a champion choice ordering a starter: to the above, add finely chopped red onion, capers, and rocket (arugula) leaves. Very yum.
A bottle of fruity chablis followed by two floral-berry rose wines kept us from being kicked out on the two hour time limit. We stayed for 5 hours and ate steak and duck breast, a brownie with ice cream, and hot chocolate.
How was the performance? I liked watching it outdoors, as I could hum along whereas in the stuffy confines of the opera house, silence is the order for the audience! The bit where Don Giovanni is consigned to hell is still my favourite part. I love the minor key, I really do.
During the last hour it started to rain and I had the umbrella gallantly held above my head. By the end though, the weather was right back to normal and as we are really good walkers, we marched from Covent Garden to Marble Arch. It is too easy.
***
So OK, I have not been blogging. No time!
On Wednesday, Capt America picked me up at work early and we reached Covent Garden in time to snag seats on a restaurant terrace with good views of the big screen. The Royal Opera House was putting on a live screening of its production of Mozart's Don Giovanni (it is CA's fave opera, and one of my preferred because I love Mozart).
Tell you what, don't ever eat smoked salmon with just lemon and black pepper again. He made a champion choice ordering a starter: to the above, add finely chopped red onion, capers, and rocket (arugula) leaves. Very yum.
A bottle of fruity chablis followed by two floral-berry rose wines kept us from being kicked out on the two hour time limit. We stayed for 5 hours and ate steak and duck breast, a brownie with ice cream, and hot chocolate.
How was the performance? I liked watching it outdoors, as I could hum along whereas in the stuffy confines of the opera house, silence is the order for the audience! The bit where Don Giovanni is consigned to hell is still my favourite part. I love the minor key, I really do.
During the last hour it started to rain and I had the umbrella gallantly held above my head. By the end though, the weather was right back to normal and as we are really good walkers, we marched from Covent Garden to Marble Arch. It is too easy.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Des Mots
Hier, c'est l'histoire
Demain, c'est le mystere
Aujourd'hui, c'est un cadeau
Yesterday is history
Tomorrow is a mystery
Today is a gift
(I need to practise my Frensh.)
I couldn't think of anything else to blog about! I am going to have to write an educational one soon. I had a compare/contrast blog planned for months but looked for the second image tonight and can't find it. Must be on my old laptop.
Oh, the other day on the way to work I saw a woman in a delivery van and just before she pulled away, I watched her perch a young magpie on her shoulder. Imagine, a hand-reared magpie.
Demain, c'est le mystere
Aujourd'hui, c'est un cadeau
Yesterday is history
Tomorrow is a mystery
Today is a gift
(I need to practise my Frensh.)
I couldn't think of anything else to blog about! I am going to have to write an educational one soon. I had a compare/contrast blog planned for months but looked for the second image tonight and can't find it. Must be on my old laptop.
Oh, the other day on the way to work I saw a woman in a delivery van and just before she pulled away, I watched her perch a young magpie on her shoulder. Imagine, a hand-reared magpie.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Tightened Policy
Now on a need to know basis... :P
So. On Friday evening we went for a drink, got lost, had another drink, got lost again, had dinner, and another drink, and walked across half of London (I love how interconnected this city is) on the way home. Drink is such a silly word when you say it too often. But I have learned that a G&T is best if made with Bombay Sapphire and 3 pieces of lime, and that the London bar staff need special instructions on this...
Saturday it was a trip to Richmond for fish n chips. We walked a couple of miles along the river, chilled in the park, went to a biergarten and had a nice meat and cheese platter, travelled back into town, got lost, and then saw Ocean's 13 which was very retro-modern, sophisticated, and surprisingly funny in parts.
1) Getting lost can be fun if it's with someone you like.
2) Taxis are helpful for becoming rapidly unlost, though.
3) Especially if you've both left your maps at home.
4) Being picked up and dropped off at my door is the way it should be done. It is a particularly American habit that would never catch on here for reasons I don't need to specify.
Sunday...take a guess? He came by for lunch and ice cream at a French cafe in my neighbourhood before reluctantly going to a work function nearby, and then texting from there to say it was boring and that he'd MUCH rather be spending time with me. That was such a lovely thing to say.
Much packing I got done this weekend! And my Americanisms are coming back. I ought to try some of 'em out on y'all sometime. ;)
So. On Friday evening we went for a drink, got lost, had another drink, got lost again, had dinner, and another drink, and walked across half of London (I love how interconnected this city is) on the way home. Drink is such a silly word when you say it too often. But I have learned that a G&T is best if made with Bombay Sapphire and 3 pieces of lime, and that the London bar staff need special instructions on this...
Saturday it was a trip to Richmond for fish n chips. We walked a couple of miles along the river, chilled in the park, went to a biergarten and had a nice meat and cheese platter, travelled back into town, got lost, and then saw Ocean's 13 which was very retro-modern, sophisticated, and surprisingly funny in parts.
1) Getting lost can be fun if it's with someone you like.
2) Taxis are helpful for becoming rapidly unlost, though.
3) Especially if you've both left your maps at home.
4) Being picked up and dropped off at my door is the way it should be done. It is a particularly American habit that would never catch on here for reasons I don't need to specify.
Sunday...take a guess? He came by for lunch and ice cream at a French cafe in my neighbourhood before reluctantly going to a work function nearby, and then texting from there to say it was boring and that he'd MUCH rather be spending time with me. That was such a lovely thing to say.
Much packing I got done this weekend! And my Americanisms are coming back. I ought to try some of 'em out on y'all sometime. ;)
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Small updates
Just thought I'd slap together a blog before I leave the office, as when I go home I will be shredding shredding shredding, and filling black bin bags with rubbish/clothes to give away, and filling suitcases with things. I aim to have all things tucked away by the 13th because that is when a prospective new "guest" will come to look at my room and I want it looking its best so that she will want to move in and not run away waving her arms in the air :)
***
And to think, when I started this post I had no idea what to write.
***
Ooh, if you haven't been following the saga from the previous post, I will be texting somebody my number tonight. I have never chased anyone's number before, so...I don't know where that burst of proactivity came from.
Fingers crossed, ok?
***
I enjoyed a wonderful Japanese lunch again, of wakame salad, takoyaki, and shrimp tempura maki sushi. They were happy to see me again. Next time I will try a different combination. Keep up, people, I have blogged about this place before...
***
After lunch, I stopped in the discount bookshop and bought 4 heavy books. PLEASE make me stop buying books. Since working in this area I must have bought at least 15...my mother will kill me if we haven't enough space. You see, we might ask Dad to ship out the other half of my library...oh the horror, the horror...
***
Tomorrow I am going to a big dinner event at Taratai, one of those Pan Asian restaurants that was opened amidst fanfare with big names in attendance. Apparently their motif is the lotus and the menu is taken from destinations along the old Silk Trail. How romantic. I suppose I will be blogging about that next.
***
And to think, when I started this post I had no idea what to write.
***
Ooh, if you haven't been following the saga from the previous post, I will be texting somebody my number tonight. I have never chased anyone's number before, so...I don't know where that burst of proactivity came from.
Fingers crossed, ok?
***
I enjoyed a wonderful Japanese lunch again, of wakame salad, takoyaki, and shrimp tempura maki sushi. They were happy to see me again. Next time I will try a different combination. Keep up, people, I have blogged about this place before...
***
After lunch, I stopped in the discount bookshop and bought 4 heavy books. PLEASE make me stop buying books. Since working in this area I must have bought at least 15...my mother will kill me if we haven't enough space. You see, we might ask Dad to ship out the other half of my library...oh the horror, the horror...
***
Tomorrow I am going to a big dinner event at Taratai, one of those Pan Asian restaurants that was opened amidst fanfare with big names in attendance. Apparently their motif is the lotus and the menu is taken from destinations along the old Silk Trail. How romantic. I suppose I will be blogging about that next.
Monday, June 04, 2007
American Escapade
I have met so many people over the past month that the conversations are getting muddled in my head - who lived/travelled/worked where, favourite towns/foods/music, studies, stories, siblings...whew!
So anyway, Friday night housemate G and I went to the Embassy party at the Marines House and I had a wonderful time (although she is English she worked there last year). I had not been there since we applied for emigration. Somebody paid our entrance cover, which gets you a Marines stamp on your hand for the bar. I had forgotten how interesting international Americans are. I felt like...I was..."back home" BUT also that I was at all the college parties I had never been to (our university was Catholic and had no Greek system). The only difference here being that everyone was well-behaved and no one was noticeably drunk despite the drinks being free, and it was all over by 1am. No one even paid attention to the "last call"!
The bartenders were Marines and looked like grown up frat boys, but they were considerate in that they did not put too much alcohol into my drinks, they said so :) Hehe, Malibu and coke...which brings me to my next point - the loos, as I had to go quite often :)
You may laugh, but I couldn't help but notice that, after a while the M and F toilets were soon in use by both sexes, but what amazed me was that everyone without fail closed the toilet lid before leaving. I began to wonder if that had become part of basic training or something.
G and her ex-colleague J introduced me to a guy called R, highly attractive in a preppy ex-Army sort of way. (I've never met an American who served in Iraq before.) Also, I did not know I could have anything in common with a boy from Tennessee but I found that I do! Catholic uni education, Italy, art, psychology, intelligent conversation. I have to take notice of someone who compliments me for using the word "dichotomy". It's funny how when you're at a buzzing party, what people say just falls out of your head later on. He hadn't explored "downtown London" yet and mentioned that he wanted to go to the Tate Modern. Said something about the Marine formal ball, and embassy cars being fun! Argh!
All I know is, I wish I had given him my number when I thought of it. I keep learning, when you think of something, never hesitate or you will miss out. (G wouldn't stop asking me if I liked R, and observing how straight down the line he seems. Yes.)
I had also forgotten that well-educated southern boys were brought up to be such gentlemen. I would not know most of this because in Texas I was only ever friends with them. But a day after I told G, "He was like the grown up version of all the boys I knew at university" I slapped myself because I realised that they were all very lovely boys! Some of you may remember how excited I was about the Aussies. Well, now I am all excited about Americans. Ha, as if I didn't spend enough time over there. So to be finally treated like a woman worthy of notice by one....I was absolutely impressed.
After the party, the four of us went back to J's flat - gosh, the embassy puts its people into some lush properties - in our neighbourhood there are lots of Americans because of the American school, so you can imagine how nice it is. This place was impeccably decorated, with original artworks and sculptures. Couldn't see too much as it was dark and I only found the bathroom light switch after I left, hehe! But even in the bathroom there was a ship in a bottle on the window sill. All so picturesque.
We collapsed on the comfy sofas and fell asleep watching Seinfeld on DVD (I hadn't remembered it was SO funny, I thought I was going to turn inside out). R was out like a light as he'd been up since 5am the day before. G and I snuck out at 2am and walked the few minutes back to our house. :))
Next day my mother (yes I tell her all the gossip) in short, said, "Why didn't you do all that when you were at university?!?!?"
So anyway, Friday night housemate G and I went to the Embassy party at the Marines House and I had a wonderful time (although she is English she worked there last year). I had not been there since we applied for emigration. Somebody paid our entrance cover, which gets you a Marines stamp on your hand for the bar. I had forgotten how interesting international Americans are. I felt like...I was..."back home" BUT also that I was at all the college parties I had never been to (our university was Catholic and had no Greek system). The only difference here being that everyone was well-behaved and no one was noticeably drunk despite the drinks being free, and it was all over by 1am. No one even paid attention to the "last call"!
The bartenders were Marines and looked like grown up frat boys, but they were considerate in that they did not put too much alcohol into my drinks, they said so :) Hehe, Malibu and coke...which brings me to my next point - the loos, as I had to go quite often :)
You may laugh, but I couldn't help but notice that, after a while the M and F toilets were soon in use by both sexes, but what amazed me was that everyone without fail closed the toilet lid before leaving. I began to wonder if that had become part of basic training or something.
G and her ex-colleague J introduced me to a guy called R, highly attractive in a preppy ex-Army sort of way. (I've never met an American who served in Iraq before.) Also, I did not know I could have anything in common with a boy from Tennessee but I found that I do! Catholic uni education, Italy, art, psychology, intelligent conversation. I have to take notice of someone who compliments me for using the word "dichotomy". It's funny how when you're at a buzzing party, what people say just falls out of your head later on. He hadn't explored "downtown London" yet and mentioned that he wanted to go to the Tate Modern. Said something about the Marine formal ball, and embassy cars being fun! Argh!
All I know is, I wish I had given him my number when I thought of it. I keep learning, when you think of something, never hesitate or you will miss out. (G wouldn't stop asking me if I liked R, and observing how straight down the line he seems. Yes.)
I had also forgotten that well-educated southern boys were brought up to be such gentlemen. I would not know most of this because in Texas I was only ever friends with them. But a day after I told G, "He was like the grown up version of all the boys I knew at university" I slapped myself because I realised that they were all very lovely boys! Some of you may remember how excited I was about the Aussies. Well, now I am all excited about Americans. Ha, as if I didn't spend enough time over there. So to be finally treated like a woman worthy of notice by one....I was absolutely impressed.
After the party, the four of us went back to J's flat - gosh, the embassy puts its people into some lush properties - in our neighbourhood there are lots of Americans because of the American school, so you can imagine how nice it is. This place was impeccably decorated, with original artworks and sculptures. Couldn't see too much as it was dark and I only found the bathroom light switch after I left, hehe! But even in the bathroom there was a ship in a bottle on the window sill. All so picturesque.
We collapsed on the comfy sofas and fell asleep watching Seinfeld on DVD (I hadn't remembered it was SO funny, I thought I was going to turn inside out). R was out like a light as he'd been up since 5am the day before. G and I snuck out at 2am and walked the few minutes back to our house. :))
Next day my mother (yes I tell her all the gossip) in short, said, "Why didn't you do all that when you were at university?!?!?"
Friday, June 01, 2007
Silly exchange
This sort of exchange irritates and frustrates me. The essence of it trickles down into every facet of the organisation. Despite the early rant, I am in a good mood today :))
(Boss - 5pm Wednesday)
Hi there, just checking if IT responded to the email you sent? I know A**** is away until next week and really don't want to leave it switched on until then! So if you could make sure someone has a look at it that would be great...
(Me - a few minutes later)
Hi
I asked, they logged it, I asked again, and then they called, but they haven't been up yet...
I will ask again tomorrow though.
(Boss - 8.38pm Wednesday night)
Thanks, if you could pursue that would be helpful
(Boss - 8.39pm Wednesday night)
sorry, just thought that it would probably be worth having a look at it in the morning before getting in touch with them again in case its turned itself off! (though they might still need to check it anyway I guess).
[Turns out it was a general network problem and everyone else had the same issue.]
***
Now why is it a gay guy can shower me with compliments an hour after meeting me the way no straight man ever has? (I was at a going-home party for a gay Aussie friend of mine.) If he were straight I would think he wanted to marry me right there. Should have seen his face when I said I was single. Scandalised, it was. Said the men were blind. :) He is Spanish. He said, "Go to Spain, they will loooove you there."
We texted today, he said he would love to get to know me better - keeps saying I have a lovely soul (so does he) - so we may meet up again soon for a drink or a meal.
***
My lunch today was wonderful. Have you ever eaten food that made you feel like you had been blessed? There is a tiny Japanese sushi bar nearby on a modest market street full of cafes and sandwich bars and the like. You would totally miss it if you didn't spot the menu just inside the doorway because the restaurant itself is downstairs. The staff are adorable in their Japanese way, always smiling and sweet.
The last time I was there, I had been feeling down but after my miso soup, mixed sushi (maki and nigiri) platter, and a delicate hot sweet mochi (daifuku), my tum was happyyyyyy. And so was I.
Today I was already pretty chipper, owing to my growing collection of good experiences, which is why after I ate there I felt not merely happy but blessed.
I ate the yummiest wakame salad ever, a plate of warm octopus doughballs (takoyaki), and a plate of tasty softshell crab maki (rolled) sushi. The flavours are all so distinct, the ingredients so fresh and perfect. I am never going to a chain sushi restaurant again!
The wakame salad, with seaweed, cucumber and beansprouts was in the most sublime dressing, just the right sweet and tart because the vinegar was balanced by sprinkled sesame and sesame puree (yum!) which lent a fine toasty-nutty flavour to the mix. I wanted to drink it afterwards.
The takoyaki, well, you have to like octopus because it is a warm ball of fried seasoned loose dough and there is a piece of octopus in the centre. The next to last ball contained a nice row of tentacles. These balls are sprinkled with takoyaki sauce and shredded bonito (smoky flying fish flakes). Very comfy food that and I am amazed I managed all 6.
Finally, my 4 softshell crab maki sushi were most delicious, with the texture and flavour making a harmonious blend. I love the way the fish roe rolled on the outside pops in the mouth.
I was too full for mochi :(
**********
And tonight, I am off to a BBQ at the US Embassy, yep yep!
(Boss - 5pm Wednesday)
Hi there, just checking if IT responded to the email you sent? I know A**** is away until next week and really don't want to leave it switched on until then! So if you could make sure someone has a look at it that would be great...
(Me - a few minutes later)
Hi
I asked, they logged it, I asked again, and then they called, but they haven't been up yet...
I will ask again tomorrow though.
(Boss - 8.38pm Wednesday night)
Thanks, if you could pursue that would be helpful
(Boss - 8.39pm Wednesday night)
sorry, just thought that it would probably be worth having a look at it in the morning before getting in touch with them again in case its turned itself off! (though they might still need to check it anyway I guess).
[Turns out it was a general network problem and everyone else had the same issue.]
***
Now why is it a gay guy can shower me with compliments an hour after meeting me the way no straight man ever has? (I was at a going-home party for a gay Aussie friend of mine.) If he were straight I would think he wanted to marry me right there. Should have seen his face when I said I was single. Scandalised, it was. Said the men were blind. :) He is Spanish. He said, "Go to Spain, they will loooove you there."
We texted today, he said he would love to get to know me better - keeps saying I have a lovely soul (so does he) - so we may meet up again soon for a drink or a meal.
***
My lunch today was wonderful. Have you ever eaten food that made you feel like you had been blessed? There is a tiny Japanese sushi bar nearby on a modest market street full of cafes and sandwich bars and the like. You would totally miss it if you didn't spot the menu just inside the doorway because the restaurant itself is downstairs. The staff are adorable in their Japanese way, always smiling and sweet.
The last time I was there, I had been feeling down but after my miso soup, mixed sushi (maki and nigiri) platter, and a delicate hot sweet mochi (daifuku), my tum was happyyyyyy. And so was I.
Today I was already pretty chipper, owing to my growing collection of good experiences, which is why after I ate there I felt not merely happy but blessed.
I ate the yummiest wakame salad ever, a plate of warm octopus doughballs (takoyaki), and a plate of tasty softshell crab maki (rolled) sushi. The flavours are all so distinct, the ingredients so fresh and perfect. I am never going to a chain sushi restaurant again!
The wakame salad, with seaweed, cucumber and beansprouts was in the most sublime dressing, just the right sweet and tart because the vinegar was balanced by sprinkled sesame and sesame puree (yum!) which lent a fine toasty-nutty flavour to the mix. I wanted to drink it afterwards.
The takoyaki, well, you have to like octopus because it is a warm ball of fried seasoned loose dough and there is a piece of octopus in the centre. The next to last ball contained a nice row of tentacles. These balls are sprinkled with takoyaki sauce and shredded bonito (smoky flying fish flakes). Very comfy food that and I am amazed I managed all 6.
Finally, my 4 softshell crab maki sushi were most delicious, with the texture and flavour making a harmonious blend. I love the way the fish roe rolled on the outside pops in the mouth.
I was too full for mochi :(
**********
And tonight, I am off to a BBQ at the US Embassy, yep yep!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Last May Bank Holiday [updated]
I started this blog two days ago on Blogger and saved it, only Blogger decided not to save it after all *sigh*
So I am here at work, and starting again - on Yahoo.
**********
Only...what did I say?
After a glorious warm May, our second bank holiday of the month turned out to be rainy and cold, as cold as February. All I wanted to do was hibernate, but I got out and started the weekend with a cozy birthday bash with Adie and two of her uni friends.
Sunday it rained like nobody's business and I stayed in and did laundry. Monday I was supposed to go to dinner at a friend's house, but they were just back from holiday and had caught a cold. What's new?
**********
Jojo in Australia, who has been reading my blog for over two years and seen all my ups and downs, insisted that I tell you this:
British men are all lame for not going out with Olivia.
He says, "Come to Perth, you won't be single for long."
Isn't it funny how only the people I know tell me these things, and the people I am trying to date just don't get it?
By the way, if anyone is looking for a curly-haired lad with a cheeky smile, ask for Jojo :)
**********
And then I got a wonderful e-mail from my Dad, who rediscovers my blog every few months:
Baby,
I have been wandering around your Blog.
Absolutely fascinating the way you describe simple things and events with such illumination and enthusiasm.
I know one thing about my baby: she exudes love and caring in all she does....which makes her Daddy very proud, because love is 'the essence' of the universe.
The astrophysicists are welcome to seek the 'absolute truth', 'The Theory of Everything' and 'The Grand Unification Theory', but I am convinced that the ultimate common denominator will NOT be a waveform, particle, string or worm, but an emotion called "LOVE".
It's been around so long they can't see it.
Praise from Dad is like manna from heaven and I am grinning like a fool even now.
I don't know how he found it after this length of time, but the post he is referring to is either this one from March 2006:
I can follow the Volcano post!
Or this one from March 2005:
Snow and castles and the universe
Both posts show a side of me that hasn't been seen on this blog for many months, a facet I have neglected of late, but something my father nurtured in me from an early age. When you click on the links, be brave, be brave :)
**********
After everyone's lovely comments, I called Dad this afternoon to tell him I love him, and of course he did that wonderful laugh of his and I said I missed him and he said he'd come visit before he end of the year (Yay! To see mum and me in our apartment?) - and he said he didn't know I had blogged about those theories I mentioned. He was recalling a conversation he and I once had on the long drive between Houston and Dallas, about string theory. (I vaguely recalled it, and I don't remember when it was, but I know it was the first time I heard of it! I mean, goodness...the first time he introduced me to parallel universes, I was definitely under 10. I love how he never underestimated what I could understand.)
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Tagging, tagging...tagged!
I. Thank you ML for tagging me. I will do my best!
7 Things that happened to me as a Teen:
1. I turned 13 on our 2nd year of US residency and went into 8th grade (when the going gets tough). The schoolwork was SO much harder than what I was used to, even at my private school in London, plus the culture shock of a co-ed school in a new country, and added to that the mess of hormones as I crept into puberty, I cried so many afternoons when my mother picked me up from school.
2. So of course I didn't understand this whole "will you go out with me?" thing. By grade 8 I was totally nonplussed, having had a juvenile hall guy mock my innocence the year before, and had no idea what to say to whom. But there was this really cute boy called Kevin in my drama, art and honors English classes (yes 3!). He was preppy, in chinos and horn-rimmed glasses (hey it was 1990), and he was trying to be my friend and was really being very nice, but I kept telling him to leave me alone, and if he didn't I would get in the plane and go back to England. Way to go Olivia for overdoing it. I still wish I could apologise to him...
3. I remember feeling suddenly terrified at the end of 9th grade, of the level of work we would begin in 10th grade. Just a moment I remember, as we were driving out of a parking lot, and I absently focused my eyes on a newspaper dispenser, and had that thought.
4. When I was 14 we bought a silky chicken (small, black with white fluff not feathers, a powder puff on legs). She started out ugly and hairless, then sprouted stubble which eventually went poof! She was our darling and would come into the house, select the best chair to lay an egg on, with us running around behind her to lay a cloth wherever she chose to lay her bum. Anyway, one day she disappeared and I was devastated and cried buckets. I put a poster up on the fence, and a couple of afternoons later a boy whose route to school took him past the house knocked on our door. He said he had taken it because his aunt kept silkies and he thought it had strayed off. So we drove to their house over a mile away to pick up our Silky. We knew her because she was prettier than the others and she came to us when we called.
5. Only three more to go! In 11th grade French class we learned two dances: a Haitian thingummy (I don't remember what it was called) and a Bach minuet. I like the minuet, the measured steps, the graceful motions. Plus I couldn't do the Haitian one. My book bag was so heavy and being on one shoulder, it had put my lower back out of alignment and it caused the most amazingly sharp pain in certain positions. So I couldn't lift my leg to do the ragdoll-style steps of the Haitian dance. In fact, one day I sat down bouncily as you normally do on the edge of your bed to put on a sock, and it jolted my sore spine into a spasm. I couldn't dress any further and ended up sliding to the floor and crawling about for a few minutes.
6. In 7th grade I used to get student of the week/month, and then student of the year - awarded at a ceremony by the mayor of our town, who went on to the state Senate and then US Congress. In 10th grade I received a Presidential Academic Fitness award with Clinton's signature on it, and the next year, one with the elder Bush's. I was a sickeningly good student, which is why I am not an entrepreneur today and hence not a millionaire.
7. In 11th grade Calculus class, one of the boys in the baseball team passed me a note asking for my number and if could he see me after class. It was the time of year when everyone was preparing for Prom. I wrote on the other side of the note that I did not give my number to boys. I was mortified at the thought of a boy calling my house and asking to talk to me. Fool! My parents would have been thrilled but I was damned self conscious. I am no longer shy, but is it any wonder the pattern continues today? There must be a sign not visible to me written on my forehead. Of course I don't know what it says..."No trespassing" or something..."Violators will be prosecuted". Hahahah! Oh can you think of any??? This is funny!
Sorry...got off topic there.
Sorry...got off topic there.
**********
I've also been tagged by Um Naief (the blogger formerly known as Tooners) who seems to back on full blogging form now that her baby son has settled in.
II. 10 Simple Pleasures
1) The wafting scent of a rose garden in June.
2) Getting bunny kisses.
3) Eating homecooked food.
4) Watching hummingbirds fight over a feeder.
5) That perfect cup of tea.
6) Birdsong in the evening.
7) Contagious laughter.
8) Reaching "the view - it'll be worth it" after a long, steep hike.
9) That nice feeling you get when you are just drifting off to sleep.
10) A Big Warm Hug.
**********
By the way, I put a deposit down for the modern luxury flat last week...
Did I miss any tags?
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
House Hunter
I went to see house number two from the previous post - the cute cream stucco one. It is not a houseshare.
Most large houses in London have been split into flats but you may not see that from the outside. Sometimes there is an addition with an entrance to a part of it, like that on house 2. Sometimes instead of one large original door, there are two doors, one to the ground floor flat, and the second has stairs to the first floor. And most houses now have had the basements and lofts converted into flats too. London houses have always had steps down to the lower ground floor (basement) entrance from the days when that's where the kitchen and scullery were, and where grocery deliveries were made - tradesman's entrance I guess. When a LGF flat is called a "garden flat" it means the tenants in the basement have sole use of the back garden.
In addition, in grander neighbourhoods, there are mews conversions. Mews are the old stables and workshops from the days when wealthy families living in the houses fronting the street owned a horse and carriage and kept household staff. Mews are cobbled alley ways behind the residential streets. I find them much cuter and desirable than the overly high-ceilinged homes they once served. Mews houses feel more cottagey, or they are sometimes completely refurbished into great contemporary open spaces. You still need to put down a million to own one, though.
So, who wants to hear about the cute house on Byron Hill Road (cute name eh?)
When I walked in I said "wow". The entrance is tiled with slate, and off to the left is a cloakroom (half bathroom). To the right is a pair of steps - one going up, and one going down. Here's the worst bit. The part that goes down is partly subterranean, a half basement, and there is damp in the wall. The estate agents are waiting for money to come through from the landlord to have it "cured" and repaired, and it will be a big job as they will need to tear out the downstairs bathroom too. (Funny enough, the landlord is moving to Houston, but lived in that house for 10 years.) So the second bedroom is downstairs and a very good sized one for an English house. The bathroom is ok and has a mixer tap.
Taking the second steps up you enter the wow space. The ceilings are so high you couldn't reach with a ladder. There's a lounge with two couches, dining area with table and six chairs, and open kitchen. Big American fridge. Very big living areas for over here, and hence the practical side of me says it will be difficult to heat in our bone-chilling winters, which are colder on the hills, mind you. All the warmth will rise to the heavenly ceiling and we will pay for it.
Off the lounge area there is a spacious master bedroom with double bed. What amazed me was the opposite wall covered with doors of all shapes and sizes, behind which are shelves and closets for storage, and then one narrow door at the end houses a ladder to reach it all! Another wow.
Were it not for the damp and the high ceilings, I would take it. Also, the long walk to the station. Yesterday, my mother said she will start driving over here and get a car, and drop me off...Oh my. I said we'd cross that bridge when we get to it. She hasn't driven here in nearly 20 years, but fortunately, Harrow on the Hill is not as manic or relentless as the rest of London. Some streets up there don't see a car in motion for 5 minutes at a time, maybe even more!
Tomorrow I am going back to Platinum House to see some larger apartments. I was comforted by the fact that water, gas and heating are included (and use of all those great facilities) in rental price except for electricity, phone, and council tax. Hopefully the slight hike in price of the places I am seeing will mean the kitchen comes out of the closet into an open plan, and gets us more floor space for the boxes we have...
I'll keep you "post"ed.
:P
Most large houses in London have been split into flats but you may not see that from the outside. Sometimes there is an addition with an entrance to a part of it, like that on house 2. Sometimes instead of one large original door, there are two doors, one to the ground floor flat, and the second has stairs to the first floor. And most houses now have had the basements and lofts converted into flats too. London houses have always had steps down to the lower ground floor (basement) entrance from the days when that's where the kitchen and scullery were, and where grocery deliveries were made - tradesman's entrance I guess. When a LGF flat is called a "garden flat" it means the tenants in the basement have sole use of the back garden.
In addition, in grander neighbourhoods, there are mews conversions. Mews are the old stables and workshops from the days when wealthy families living in the houses fronting the street owned a horse and carriage and kept household staff. Mews are cobbled alley ways behind the residential streets. I find them much cuter and desirable than the overly high-ceilinged homes they once served. Mews houses feel more cottagey, or they are sometimes completely refurbished into great contemporary open spaces. You still need to put down a million to own one, though.
So, who wants to hear about the cute house on Byron Hill Road (cute name eh?)
When I walked in I said "wow". The entrance is tiled with slate, and off to the left is a cloakroom (half bathroom). To the right is a pair of steps - one going up, and one going down. Here's the worst bit. The part that goes down is partly subterranean, a half basement, and there is damp in the wall. The estate agents are waiting for money to come through from the landlord to have it "cured" and repaired, and it will be a big job as they will need to tear out the downstairs bathroom too. (Funny enough, the landlord is moving to Houston, but lived in that house for 10 years.) So the second bedroom is downstairs and a very good sized one for an English house. The bathroom is ok and has a mixer tap.
Taking the second steps up you enter the wow space. The ceilings are so high you couldn't reach with a ladder. There's a lounge with two couches, dining area with table and six chairs, and open kitchen. Big American fridge. Very big living areas for over here, and hence the practical side of me says it will be difficult to heat in our bone-chilling winters, which are colder on the hills, mind you. All the warmth will rise to the heavenly ceiling and we will pay for it.
Off the lounge area there is a spacious master bedroom with double bed. What amazed me was the opposite wall covered with doors of all shapes and sizes, behind which are shelves and closets for storage, and then one narrow door at the end houses a ladder to reach it all! Another wow.
Were it not for the damp and the high ceilings, I would take it. Also, the long walk to the station. Yesterday, my mother said she will start driving over here and get a car, and drop me off...Oh my. I said we'd cross that bridge when we get to it. She hasn't driven here in nearly 20 years, but fortunately, Harrow on the Hill is not as manic or relentless as the rest of London. Some streets up there don't see a car in motion for 5 minutes at a time, maybe even more!
Tomorrow I am going back to Platinum House to see some larger apartments. I was comforted by the fact that water, gas and heating are included (and use of all those great facilities) in rental price except for electricity, phone, and council tax. Hopefully the slight hike in price of the places I am seeing will mean the kitchen comes out of the closet into an open plan, and gets us more floor space for the boxes we have...
I'll keep you "post"ed.
:P
Sunday, May 20, 2007
10 Green Bottles...
...Sitting on the wall...And if one green bottle....Should accidentally fall...there'll be 9 green bottles...sitting on the wall.
Who remembers that song???
**********
Soooo let's see what I did this week.
Monday...viewing.
Tuesday...viewing.
Wednesday...
You get the picture.
And rather than checking blogs (you may have noticed I was not about), I have an array of constantly open Firefox tabs with properties that I plan to book for viewing.
Next week I shall put off the property viewing for a couple of days, and start the week with social activities. On Sunday I will go to see my grandmother in SW London, where I will do a dinner of duck legs, courgettes (zucchini), potato croquettes, followed by carrot cake.
Oh, and how will I spend my Saturday? Seeing a few properties of course (with an old friend who lives up there). Yes, London is so all-consuming that some estate agents stay open all week. Makes sense, as some people work 50 hour weeks. They must do all their grocery shopping, laundry, errands, and sleeping (it's true!) on weekends.
And where have I set my heart on living? Why, near where I used to go to school...An historic hill town just half an hour outside the centre of London on the tube. It still feels like a village but it's not even on the end of the line. You Londoners probably know exactly where I mean now, with all the glaring hints.
Off to peep at a couple of blogs now. Will it be yours? Who knows?
**********
Saturday Update:
Went to see a couple of properties in Harrow with my old friend Angela. I am sorely tempted to go for the luxury block - the flat was small but it had two bedrooms and two bathrooms (a big deal in the UK), and is furnished in contemporary style. It has a designer (albeit compact) fitted kitchen with Neff appliances and granite counters, air conditioning, long balcony, solar activated blinds, roof gardens, concierge, and for residents use of a small gym, sauna, steam room, jacuzzi...It is 5 minutes walk from the station, which is important as it's further out of London, about 20 minutes into the almost-centre.
On second thought, it is more like a kitchen in a cupboard. I kid you not, my walk-in closet in our first apartment in the US (before we got back into 4-bedroom houses) was bigger than this kitchen!
It's not a bad-bad area, I've been in worse, but I didn't feel that great walking about in the shopping centre. I got stared at a lot for some reason and it does feel a bit ghetto. Surrounding this block there are some ugly 1970s office blocks that look like they are about to be converted too. Well, at least it's not an ex-local authority block - they are in depressing 1960s and 70s slabs or towers, and are still pretty dire. Even when refurbished they look sad, and are only slightly less expensive than private "purpose built" blocks.
So there's that. Or a few minutes away in Harrow on the Hill proper is this 2 bedroom, 1.5 bathroom flat:
Which is a part of this house:
(see it's tucked into the right side there and the other photos show it has some surprisingly large spaces.)
Or just round the corner there's this 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom cottage:
Only downside is the two pretty places (haven't booked to see yet) are about a 20 minute walk from the station....Or the bus takes about 5 minutes, but you have to wait up to 15 minutes for it. Ha!
The whole area of Harrow on the Hill is like a village. London is made up of villages, but the ones farther out such as H-on-the-H, Hampstead and Highgate have been able to retain some of their identity and all three are on hills, raised above the grime of the city. The two latter are a bit closer to town and very exclusive as quite a few celebs live there. Harrow on the Hill's claim to fame is the renowned Harrow Boys School which is the second best public school in the UK behind Eton, of course. Old Harrovians of note include Winston Churchill, James Blunt (the singer), Cary Elwes (yes, the actor), more actors James and Edward Fox and Benedict Cumberbatch (mentioned him in a previous blog), Lord Byron and a host of other titled nobility including other former prime ministers and politicians, Jordanian princes, Earl Grey, a Rothschild and two Earls Spencer, some of the Queen's cousins, lords, marquesses, viceroys, dukes, loads of writers, Indian P.M. Nehru, adventurers, spies, industrialists, and so on...I have radar: It always turns out that the actors I find cutest are ex-public school boys (like Elwes and Cumberbatch)...!
It was quiet up there today. I think they were all down in St John's Wood at the cricket test matches.
The lettings agents say I am working with a pretty good budget for outer London, but still, I know that a few hundred more per month would get me more than I can choose from, even closer into town. As it is, I can find a very limited number of fairly decent properties at this distance. If money were no object...ah, but this is London.
So many people in their 30s live at home with their parents because they can't afford their own place, or even sometimes a houseshare. But I don't have that luxury anymore, and my mother is essentially homeless. We give up. We cannot live apart anymore. Independence is overrated, and all we have is each other - we have always been best friends. Even my cousins are disappointed in me for giving up my independence - well, they left home before 18, for many reasons. I, on the other hand, am different. And in the absence of a relationship and little prospect of one on the horizon (God knows I've tried), what else can I do? I am tired of the lonely struggle in the big city. We make each other laugh like no one else apart from my father does, and he is thousands of miles away and rarely calls. I can't have both of them that far away. Like I said, I am tired, and I know my mother is too. In my heart of hearts, I reproach him for putting us both in this very difficult position. Money was never, never, never an issue until our family split up.
Our relationship is such that we impart confidence to each other, and after all we have both been through since the divorce, we haven't lived together. I think we need to do that, so we can heal together too, at last.
Who remembers that song???
**********
Soooo let's see what I did this week.
Monday...viewing.
Tuesday...viewing.
Wednesday...
You get the picture.
And rather than checking blogs (you may have noticed I was not about), I have an array of constantly open Firefox tabs with properties that I plan to book for viewing.
Next week I shall put off the property viewing for a couple of days, and start the week with social activities. On Sunday I will go to see my grandmother in SW London, where I will do a dinner of duck legs, courgettes (zucchini), potato croquettes, followed by carrot cake.
Oh, and how will I spend my Saturday? Seeing a few properties of course (with an old friend who lives up there). Yes, London is so all-consuming that some estate agents stay open all week. Makes sense, as some people work 50 hour weeks. They must do all their grocery shopping, laundry, errands, and sleeping (it's true!) on weekends.
And where have I set my heart on living? Why, near where I used to go to school...An historic hill town just half an hour outside the centre of London on the tube. It still feels like a village but it's not even on the end of the line. You Londoners probably know exactly where I mean now, with all the glaring hints.
Off to peep at a couple of blogs now. Will it be yours? Who knows?
**********
Saturday Update:
Went to see a couple of properties in Harrow with my old friend Angela. I am sorely tempted to go for the luxury block - the flat was small but it had two bedrooms and two bathrooms (a big deal in the UK), and is furnished in contemporary style. It has a designer (albeit compact) fitted kitchen with Neff appliances and granite counters, air conditioning, long balcony, solar activated blinds, roof gardens, concierge, and for residents use of a small gym, sauna, steam room, jacuzzi...It is 5 minutes walk from the station, which is important as it's further out of London, about 20 minutes into the almost-centre.
On second thought, it is more like a kitchen in a cupboard. I kid you not, my walk-in closet in our first apartment in the US (before we got back into 4-bedroom houses) was bigger than this kitchen!
It's not a bad-bad area, I've been in worse, but I didn't feel that great walking about in the shopping centre. I got stared at a lot for some reason and it does feel a bit ghetto. Surrounding this block there are some ugly 1970s office blocks that look like they are about to be converted too. Well, at least it's not an ex-local authority block - they are in depressing 1960s and 70s slabs or towers, and are still pretty dire. Even when refurbished they look sad, and are only slightly less expensive than private "purpose built" blocks.
So there's that. Or a few minutes away in Harrow on the Hill proper is this 2 bedroom, 1.5 bathroom flat:
Which is a part of this house:
(see it's tucked into the right side there and the other photos show it has some surprisingly large spaces.)
Or just round the corner there's this 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom cottage:
Only downside is the two pretty places (haven't booked to see yet) are about a 20 minute walk from the station....Or the bus takes about 5 minutes, but you have to wait up to 15 minutes for it. Ha!
The whole area of Harrow on the Hill is like a village. London is made up of villages, but the ones farther out such as H-on-the-H, Hampstead and Highgate have been able to retain some of their identity and all three are on hills, raised above the grime of the city. The two latter are a bit closer to town and very exclusive as quite a few celebs live there. Harrow on the Hill's claim to fame is the renowned Harrow Boys School which is the second best public school in the UK behind Eton, of course. Old Harrovians of note include Winston Churchill, James Blunt (the singer), Cary Elwes (yes, the actor), more actors James and Edward Fox and Benedict Cumberbatch (mentioned him in a previous blog), Lord Byron and a host of other titled nobility including other former prime ministers and politicians, Jordanian princes, Earl Grey, a Rothschild and two Earls Spencer, some of the Queen's cousins, lords, marquesses, viceroys, dukes, loads of writers, Indian P.M. Nehru, adventurers, spies, industrialists, and so on...I have radar: It always turns out that the actors I find cutest are ex-public school boys (like Elwes and Cumberbatch)...!
It was quiet up there today. I think they were all down in St John's Wood at the cricket test matches.
The lettings agents say I am working with a pretty good budget for outer London, but still, I know that a few hundred more per month would get me more than I can choose from, even closer into town. As it is, I can find a very limited number of fairly decent properties at this distance. If money were no object...ah, but this is London.
So many people in their 30s live at home with their parents because they can't afford their own place, or even sometimes a houseshare. But I don't have that luxury anymore, and my mother is essentially homeless. We give up. We cannot live apart anymore. Independence is overrated, and all we have is each other - we have always been best friends. Even my cousins are disappointed in me for giving up my independence - well, they left home before 18, for many reasons. I, on the other hand, am different. And in the absence of a relationship and little prospect of one on the horizon (God knows I've tried), what else can I do? I am tired of the lonely struggle in the big city. We make each other laugh like no one else apart from my father does, and he is thousands of miles away and rarely calls. I can't have both of them that far away. Like I said, I am tired, and I know my mother is too. In my heart of hearts, I reproach him for putting us both in this very difficult position. Money was never, never, never an issue until our family split up.
Our relationship is such that we impart confidence to each other, and after all we have both been through since the divorce, we haven't lived together. I think we need to do that, so we can heal together too, at last.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Wednesday Wonders
On Sunday morning as I was waking up, I had the distinct impression that it was actually Tuesday, and that I should have finished an assignment that would be due on Wednesday. Probably because I had been sleeping facing my bookshelf with all the art books on it...
I haven't been a student for nearly 3 years now. It was a familiar feeling, but I don't know where it came from. It has just occurred to me that perhaps I anticipated an email I got on Monday for an interview on Wednesday afternoon, for something requiring a little knowledge...time for me to brush up on some terms, eh?
**********
I have been looking at properties and it is a mighty tiring business. So many listings, so many areas, so many estate agents. So many fine lines between an area that feels good and one that doesn't...
**********
So I was in another Porsche today, black this time. Surely a lettings agent doesn't make all his potential clients get into it to drive them from the office to the property - he nearly had to come over and get me out - and then dropped me back off at the station. It is good exercise. It's so low, he said extra low. It was like sitting on the floor grazing your bum on the road.
Also, I had to guard my facial expressions (I know, I am particularly expressive) because he read them and replied as if I had actually said something - and spent not enough time looking at the road. And then when we parted he squeezed my hand too hard. Oh yea, squeezed not shook. I think I will have a small bruise tomorrow where his thumb went.
**********
Went to a coveted interview today at one of the auction houses. Ahem. I never know how well I do but I left feeling somewhat unhappy. They liked the fact that I am a bit of a perfectionist, with attention to detail, analytical, and in possession of a psychology degree, but...I didn't get to say as much as I would have liked because the director of a related department who sat in on the interview did most of the talking. The specialist who interviewed me seemed a bit shy, but studied my CV in detail whilst his older colleague waxed loquacious. They didn't even ask about my interest in the objects in question, so I got that in myself, though they did ask if I was interested in learning about them...But they also asked if I have a drivers license; as I have a US one I don't think they were too put off by it, but that could count against me despite my willingness to convert it.
Plus I was the first person they saw, is that a good or a bad thing?
I will let you know in two weeks or so what they decided...fingers and toes and eyes crossed!
**********
OOH guess who I saw opposite the Houses of Parliament yesterday?
Laurence Llewlyn-Bowen, the style and fashion guru and interior designer (whom some of you may originally know from Changing Rooms) - and his wife Jackie. The reason I spotted them is because they were standng at the side of the road and she was tying a scarf over her hair.
He is known for his trademark visible cuffs - the pair seen in the pic above are subdued. When he was first on the scene they were very frilly, as were his neck ruffs. He was like Lord Byron leaping off a horse. But yesterday I don't think I saw any cuffs...
**********
The other day I heard complaints that the global warming debate is just a British ploy to force the rest of the world to talk about the weather.
Gettit?
So yes. It's positively chilly here for May. Or maybe it's as it should be, and the past few springs have been so warm that this feels cold. Grey, drizzly, breezy. Fairly mild, but still not good enough though the sun when it does break through the clouds is surprisingly warm (ah there's the greenhouse effect). We are two and a half weeks away from June...
'Night all.
I haven't been a student for nearly 3 years now. It was a familiar feeling, but I don't know where it came from. It has just occurred to me that perhaps I anticipated an email I got on Monday for an interview on Wednesday afternoon, for something requiring a little knowledge...time for me to brush up on some terms, eh?
**********
I have been looking at properties and it is a mighty tiring business. So many listings, so many areas, so many estate agents. So many fine lines between an area that feels good and one that doesn't...
**********
So I was in another Porsche today, black this time. Surely a lettings agent doesn't make all his potential clients get into it to drive them from the office to the property - he nearly had to come over and get me out - and then dropped me back off at the station. It is good exercise. It's so low, he said extra low. It was like sitting on the floor grazing your bum on the road.
Also, I had to guard my facial expressions (I know, I am particularly expressive) because he read them and replied as if I had actually said something - and spent not enough time looking at the road. And then when we parted he squeezed my hand too hard. Oh yea, squeezed not shook. I think I will have a small bruise tomorrow where his thumb went.
**********
Went to a coveted interview today at one of the auction houses. Ahem. I never know how well I do but I left feeling somewhat unhappy. They liked the fact that I am a bit of a perfectionist, with attention to detail, analytical, and in possession of a psychology degree, but...I didn't get to say as much as I would have liked because the director of a related department who sat in on the interview did most of the talking. The specialist who interviewed me seemed a bit shy, but studied my CV in detail whilst his older colleague waxed loquacious. They didn't even ask about my interest in the objects in question, so I got that in myself, though they did ask if I was interested in learning about them...But they also asked if I have a drivers license; as I have a US one I don't think they were too put off by it, but that could count against me despite my willingness to convert it.
Plus I was the first person they saw, is that a good or a bad thing?
I will let you know in two weeks or so what they decided...fingers and toes and eyes crossed!
**********
OOH guess who I saw opposite the Houses of Parliament yesterday?
Laurence Llewlyn-Bowen, the style and fashion guru and interior designer (whom some of you may originally know from Changing Rooms) - and his wife Jackie. The reason I spotted them is because they were standng at the side of the road and she was tying a scarf over her hair.
He is known for his trademark visible cuffs - the pair seen in the pic above are subdued. When he was first on the scene they were very frilly, as were his neck ruffs. He was like Lord Byron leaping off a horse. But yesterday I don't think I saw any cuffs...
**********
The other day I heard complaints that the global warming debate is just a British ploy to force the rest of the world to talk about the weather.
Gettit?
So yes. It's positively chilly here for May. Or maybe it's as it should be, and the past few springs have been so warm that this feels cold. Grey, drizzly, breezy. Fairly mild, but still not good enough though the sun when it does break through the clouds is surprisingly warm (ah there's the greenhouse effect). We are two and a half weeks away from June...
'Night all.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Song of My Heart
Another tag from Selba:
This tag is a nostalgic one which really does bring back the old memories.
Here are the rules:
1. Go to http://www.popculturemadness.com/Music/Number-One-Songs-90s.html
2. Pick the year you turned 18
3. Get yourself nostalgic over the songs of the year
4. Write something about how the song affected you
5. Pass it on to 5 more friends
I turned 18 in 1995.
Back then, I paid no attention to current music, preferring to flop on the couch on Friday after school and immerse myself in Beethoven.
However...a few years later, I heard the following song of 1995 (the only one I recognised from the list provided on the website), and thought it touchingly beautiful.
Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman - Bryan Adams
To really love a woman
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside
Hear every thought - see every dream
And give her wings - when she wants to fly
Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms
You know you really love a woman
When you love a woman you tell her
that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that it's gonna last forever
So tell me have you ever really
- really really ever loved a woman?
To really love a woman
Let her hold you -
till you know how she needs to be touched
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her
Till you can feel her in your blood
And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes
You know you really love a woman
When you love a woman
you tell her that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that you'll always be together
So tell me have you ever really -
really really ever loved a woman?
You got to give her some faith - hold her tight
A little tenderness - gotta treat her right
She will be there for you, taking good care of you
You really gotta love your woman...
Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms
You know you really love a woman
When you love a woman you tell her
that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that it's gonna last together
So tell me have you ever really
- really really ever loved a woman?
interlude
Just tell me have you ever really,
really, really, ever loved a woman? You got to tell me
Just tell me have you ever really,
really, really, ever loved a woman?
**********
That is really and truly a song for women, and it has a beautiful and seductive Spanish touch.
When I first heard it, the lines that really stood out for me were:
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her
Till you can feel her in your blood
And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes
You know you really love a woman
(I mean....wow...)
**********
I tag...
1) Anyone
2) Who
3) Has
4) The
5) Time
This tag is a nostalgic one which really does bring back the old memories.
Here are the rules:
1. Go to http://www.popculturemadness.com/Music/Number-One-Songs-90s.html
2. Pick the year you turned 18
3. Get yourself nostalgic over the songs of the year
4. Write something about how the song affected you
5. Pass it on to 5 more friends
I turned 18 in 1995.
Back then, I paid no attention to current music, preferring to flop on the couch on Friday after school and immerse myself in Beethoven.
However...a few years later, I heard the following song of 1995 (the only one I recognised from the list provided on the website), and thought it touchingly beautiful.
Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman - Bryan Adams
To really love a woman
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside
Hear every thought - see every dream
And give her wings - when she wants to fly
Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms
You know you really love a woman
When you love a woman you tell her
that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that it's gonna last forever
So tell me have you ever really
- really really ever loved a woman?
To really love a woman
Let her hold you -
till you know how she needs to be touched
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her
Till you can feel her in your blood
And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes
You know you really love a woman
When you love a woman
you tell her that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that you'll always be together
So tell me have you ever really -
really really ever loved a woman?
You got to give her some faith - hold her tight
A little tenderness - gotta treat her right
She will be there for you, taking good care of you
You really gotta love your woman...
Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms
You know you really love a woman
When you love a woman you tell her
that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that it's gonna last together
So tell me have you ever really
- really really ever loved a woman?
interlude
Just tell me have you ever really,
really, really, ever loved a woman? You got to tell me
Just tell me have you ever really,
really, really, ever loved a woman?
**********
That is really and truly a song for women, and it has a beautiful and seductive Spanish touch.
When I first heard it, the lines that really stood out for me were:
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her
Till you can feel her in your blood
And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes
You know you really love a woman
(I mean....wow...)
**********
I tag...
1) Anyone
2) Who
3) Has
4) The
5) Time
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Freaky Friday
Bloody hell. Have you ever posted a personals ad online? And depending on the site, got absolutely nothing except on the first day or two when you turn up at the top of the new members list, or a flood of everything the opposite of what you asked for? Including some pretty naff-looking guys, despite their well-written responses. Or one-liners like Joey's "How you doin'?". Or a reply in text-speak from someone who calls himself educated, u no wot i mn. Or barely legible English.
I don't think they actually read my ad...Probably zero in on one phrase, one word, or just the pic.
So what happens to all the smartly turned out cuties I pass in the street?
**********
And have you noticed I'm not averse to discussing the obstacle course of dating now? Some people dedicate their entire blog to it. I'd never do that to you. It would not be cool.
**********
Have you also noticed how in old spy thrillers, the baddies conveniently have no peripheral vision so the goodies can get away with doing stuff in it?
**********
Saturday Update:
So, a day after the ad posting plus a second slightly different one, these are the results:
1) foreigners with barely a smattering of English probably playing a numbers game as they send out a few terrible lines with their phone number and a photo that looks like it was taken in 1983 - either that or some overly sentimental claptrap
2) a copy and paste of their own personals ad, rather than an email to ME
3) a photo with merely the line: if u like this mail me bak
4) old guys who look old
5) English guys with barely a smattering of English
6) more guys playing the numbers game who have sent the same cut and paste reply to both my ads, probably not even realising they replied to the first one
7) one who said it's a shame he was in another country but would think of me when playing with himself
8) hate mail for anything or everything I've said
**********
Oh, and I never hear back from the ones I am really interested in. This is not new, it has been happening for years, and it happens whether I am on my best behaviour or just being myself.
I cannot tell you how fed up I am of the world and everyone in it.
I don't think they actually read my ad...Probably zero in on one phrase, one word, or just the pic.
So what happens to all the smartly turned out cuties I pass in the street?
**********
And have you noticed I'm not averse to discussing the obstacle course of dating now? Some people dedicate their entire blog to it. I'd never do that to you. It would not be cool.
**********
Have you also noticed how in old spy thrillers, the baddies conveniently have no peripheral vision so the goodies can get away with doing stuff in it?
**********
Saturday Update:
So, a day after the ad posting plus a second slightly different one, these are the results:
1) foreigners with barely a smattering of English probably playing a numbers game as they send out a few terrible lines with their phone number and a photo that looks like it was taken in 1983 - either that or some overly sentimental claptrap
2) a copy and paste of their own personals ad, rather than an email to ME
3) a photo with merely the line: if u like this mail me bak
4) old guys who look old
5) English guys with barely a smattering of English
6) more guys playing the numbers game who have sent the same cut and paste reply to both my ads, probably not even realising they replied to the first one
7) one who said it's a shame he was in another country but would think of me when playing with himself
8) hate mail for anything or everything I've said
**********
Oh, and I never hear back from the ones I am really interested in. This is not new, it has been happening for years, and it happens whether I am on my best behaviour or just being myself.
I cannot tell you how fed up I am of the world and everyone in it.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Not neglecting you
Very odd. Someone in France Googled these two words: gilgamesh olivia. I doubt that those two words have been placed together before.
Do you ever wonder sometimes...?
Who is out there looking for what, and did they mean to find you? And if not, then what?
**********
Oh, and the Queen's state visit to America. Interesting that the last time she visited, G H W Bush was president, and now she has chosen to visit his son. Not the next president next year or the year after, but this one.
**********
At work I helped run an event on Tuesday at the Royal National Theatre hosted by an artist having a conversation with a government minister's secretary about art and climate change. Hope I don't get googled for this one. Then today it was an international project board, but my attention wandered throughout, even though I had to take notes. I found myself looking at the features and accents and matching them with the names on the list that I hadn't caught at the beginning. People from the offices oop north were very different from we southerners - and everyone in the room was British, and 90% were white.
So by today I am tired. It was interested to see that of all the sandwiches made to feed 55 people at the Theatre event, not one slice of white bread was to be found. All brown. The sandwiches at the meeting today were only white flour because they were soft Italian buns.
The rest of this week ought to be quiet, but fortunately we got the two events out of the way as the rest of this week will rain. It started when I was on my way back to the national office from the meeting today at the London office. It's a good space, but something annoyed me. Every entry and exit door could only be opened by pressing a big metal plate in the wall. Disability accessibility. This org is very PC and have taken it to the max in this building, which is in a very nice modernised warehouse, so you get brick arches set at random in walls. The office I am in, the same doors just open automatically.
There was a puzzling feature in the meeting room we used. Under a skylight, painted on the white wall in big colourful letters were the words:
Women:
search all over the building
dressed as
Then followed the names of 5 notables, one of whom was Salvador Dali. I have forgotten the rest, though only one was unfamiliar.
And below each name hung a costume on a hanger, looking much like what each might have been found wearing.
Dali's was a purple silk jacket over an embroidered floral waistcoat. I could very easily see him and his little moustachio in it. I am pretty sure another was Ernest Hemingway because I remember a woollen cable fisherman's jumper under an oiled canvas coat.
**********
Oh, what I did on Saturday, the only decent day out of the whole 3-day weekend: Went to Woodland Wonders, the country fair at Kew Gardens.
Katja blogged about it here.
Maybe I will tell you about it tomorrow...but here is a teaser:
Do you ever wonder sometimes...?
Who is out there looking for what, and did they mean to find you? And if not, then what?
**********
Oh, and the Queen's state visit to America. Interesting that the last time she visited, G H W Bush was president, and now she has chosen to visit his son. Not the next president next year or the year after, but this one.
**********
At work I helped run an event on Tuesday at the Royal National Theatre hosted by an artist having a conversation with a government minister's secretary about art and climate change. Hope I don't get googled for this one. Then today it was an international project board, but my attention wandered throughout, even though I had to take notes. I found myself looking at the features and accents and matching them with the names on the list that I hadn't caught at the beginning. People from the offices oop north were very different from we southerners - and everyone in the room was British, and 90% were white.
So by today I am tired. It was interested to see that of all the sandwiches made to feed 55 people at the Theatre event, not one slice of white bread was to be found. All brown. The sandwiches at the meeting today were only white flour because they were soft Italian buns.
The rest of this week ought to be quiet, but fortunately we got the two events out of the way as the rest of this week will rain. It started when I was on my way back to the national office from the meeting today at the London office. It's a good space, but something annoyed me. Every entry and exit door could only be opened by pressing a big metal plate in the wall. Disability accessibility. This org is very PC and have taken it to the max in this building, which is in a very nice modernised warehouse, so you get brick arches set at random in walls. The office I am in, the same doors just open automatically.
There was a puzzling feature in the meeting room we used. Under a skylight, painted on the white wall in big colourful letters were the words:
Women:
search all over the building
dressed as
Then followed the names of 5 notables, one of whom was Salvador Dali. I have forgotten the rest, though only one was unfamiliar.
And below each name hung a costume on a hanger, looking much like what each might have been found wearing.
Dali's was a purple silk jacket over an embroidered floral waistcoat. I could very easily see him and his little moustachio in it. I am pretty sure another was Ernest Hemingway because I remember a woollen cable fisherman's jumper under an oiled canvas coat.
**********
Oh, what I did on Saturday, the only decent day out of the whole 3-day weekend: Went to Woodland Wonders, the country fair at Kew Gardens.
Katja blogged about it here.
Maybe I will tell you about it tomorrow...but here is a teaser:
Monday, May 07, 2007
TWTWTW
A Thought On Nicolas Sarkozy: How did a conservative, pro-American sympathiser win the presidency of France, a nation "bitter at American dominance"? Not only that, but he has a tough anti-immigration stance, and his victory caused little stir in the banlieus.
Although, I did note the irony of France reflecting the USA again*, in the first occurrence of a female and a minority running for president in both nations.
*Cf. French revolution inspired by the American one.
**********
Yes, pigs fly, Olivia has mentioned politics in her blog. Well...I don't usually like the vehemence of the discussions, that's all. I don't mind debate, but some people really take this stuff personally.
**********
The busy past week:
At the start of the week I discovered that another, possibly more distinguished academic organisation wants to interview me for their same department that I am in at the arts org. International Strategy - and it's from a totally different agency as the one that put me here...what a coincidence. So, interview possibly middle to late this week, as the head of the department is away.
The week at work will start off stressfuly, as there are two events, which have remained muddled in my mind for the two weeks I've been there. Friday afternoon was tough because my boss left as she always does, at 4pm, leaving me to allocate money for an event from a budget even she couldn't find on the system, and the London office had no idea. So I just went through and (carefully) PICKED ONE that looked somewhat related to the department and the purpose and had enough funds available, and emailed all concerned, including one of the budget holders...who approved it a few minutes later, to my immense relief, as it was nearly 6pm on the eve of a long weekend.
**********
Wednesday I met up with some bloggy friends and acquaintances at the bar under the Soho Curzon cinema. Or movie theatre, just to wind some people up...
Thursday, though...now that was a night to remember. I went on a [should I admit it?] dinner dates event at Gilgamesh in Camden. Good Lord. You've been to a palace, and you've been to a restaurant. Well, this restaurant was more of a palace. Come to think of it, no detail was overlooked, but then that was the way at the turn of the 20th century in the "pleasure palaces". That thought has only just occurred to me. Take for instance the Egyptian-themed Cafe Royal on Piccadilly. The ceiling is of gilded papyrii..sorry - off topic.
Have you read the Epic of Gilgamesh? (Wiki summary here / Online text here.) You should, it is the oldest written legend.
Ian Pengelley's Gilgamesh (the venue) leaves no surface untouched. Every wall is made up of carved and sculpted friezes of curly-bearded Mesopotamian warriors and camels and palm trees. It was like being at the Assyrian section in the British Museum. The tables are inlaid with brass foliage. The chairs, that's another story. They are like small thrones, plush, velour, damask. The arms really are arms with hands that wrap around the front legs which come up to arm level and end at a knop. Were it not for the knop, the throne would fit under the table and we girls wouldn't have to sit on the edges of our immensely comfortable seats. The DJ music was chilled and never overpowering. The only thing that disagreed with me was the LED lighting on a continual slow cycle of pink, green and indigo, which hurt my eyes.
Not a morsel of middle eastern food appeared on our set menus. We had chopsticks from beginning to end as apparently the menu is Pan-Asian (my fave!), starting with salted edamame, shrimp tempura sushi, Thai green curry chicken, and finally fruits and dessert. Every dish was truly delicious. Edamame is pretty foolproof, so I'll skip that. The sushi was delicious, and they provided pleasantly light soy sauce, rather than the usual dark salty one. I think I will buy light soy in future. I usually avoid Thai green curries as I find them too heavy on the coconut milk and too light on the fragrance, but this one was just right, and spicy too. They used pea aubergine and egg aubergine. (Both shaped like their namesakes.) Even the jasmine rice was perfectly steamed, not too sticky, and fell apart with the right pressure. The dessert was cleverly done. Large sharing bowls of totally exotic fruits sliced into finger food sizes: dragonfruit, starfruit, kiwi, pineapple, melon, passion fruit. In addition, small boats of banana and peanut butter crumble. Yes, you read right. Banana and peanut butter, and it was delicious.
Now on to the dinner guests. We had assigned seating with placecards, alternating males and females. Across from me was a very cute and pleasant young lady, who I am sure received a lot of interest the next day. At the head of the table to my left was an intellectual and talkative young man in advertising. He knew a lot about the sorts of things I can talk about, so we got on well, except he talked too much about it all. You know, he could tell me all about the history of the Persians' beards and the whole Spartan mentorship of young boys, etc. Just wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise about it, so therefore didn't realise I knew almost as much. So, intelligent, but a bit too much so and as a result a fringe-nerd.
On the other side of me was a fellow with whom I had only one exchange after shaking hands, and that was when he ID'd my surname as being Greek. Other than that, he was a sap with a terrible lisp, and he talked mainly to the other side of the table. Across from me next to the other girl was the guy I had chatted with during the drinks reception, something to do with telecommunications and living in Kensington.
The guys make the swap before the dessert course. Name cards are flipped over, but unfortunately someone messed with ours whilst we girls were on loo break. I was disappointed that the guy who was assigned to my left had been moved opposite but one because I found that he emanated so much kindness - I don't believe in auras but am sure he had one. I don't think I have ever said that about anyone. He was Serbian, born and educated here, tall and fair, and really easygoing and just really nice.
I was stuck instead with a calm guy who made no impression on me whatsoever (unfortunately he was interested in getting my number the next day), and then on my right a fit and compact type-A high-powered banker who was a bit drunk (obviously buying beer apart from the half-bottle wine allotted to each guest) and kept hitting on me. He asked me three times in the space of 15 minutes: a) what's a beautiful girl like you doing at an event like this? I said I wanted to expand my social network; b) why haven't you got a boyfriend? I said I could not answer that; c) Why don't guys chat you up? He answered that one himself. He said guys don't chat up girls like me because they're cowards.
After a while he realised we were not on the same wavelength, what with him being drunk and all, and started apologising profusely for offending me or having any other unsettling effect on my sensibilities. Not his words, but that's what he meant in a roundabout way. The calm guy on my other side took him - hehe - very calmly - even did his cufflinks up for him on his giant cuffs that came below his cashmere jumper sleeves (get the idea?). Apparently many of the guys know each other from previous events, and go skiing together and the like.
The reason I said earlier that the dessert was cleverly done was because we had to share 3 small banana crumbles between 5 people. Somehow the Serb offered to split with me. I dished out a bit at first, and he did that comfy thing that nice people do where he winked and wrinkled his nose and nodded in that kind way, whilst indicating I should take more. So I did, and we joked about the shape of the little boat being suitable for sliding the dessert out like an oyster, to which he replied he had had oysters the day before. Oh la.
When first introduced, the drunken banker had started off on the wrong tack with the Serb, with a reference to the old Yugoslav conflict, and the poor guy had to rebuff with nearly the exact thing I would have said, that basically that is so passe and that the new baddies are [from another part of the world]. I agreed and said that bringing that up was such a 90s thing anyway.
So, the 4 hours passed quickly, and I made my getaway at midnight, after everyone had moved to the bar and drunken banker had come over to me again and said we were being "continually thrust together". Sheesh.
Would you believe that to sit at the bar tables there is a minimum spend of £250? And all the tables were full. AND this is not Mayfair or Chelsea, it is Camden.
When I got outside there was a young homeless fellow ending a passing comment with two men who had left the restaurant about sinking and rising and heaven and hell...then attempting to bring me into it, he said how can you sink lower if you're already in hell/rise if you're not in heaven (I forget which). Walking slightly ahead of me as I went at a purposeful pace, he asked if anyone was bothering me (yes, him); I said no. He said, Would you like me to walk with you? I said no thanks. He said, If anyone tries to bother you just holler and I'll come. As he departed he said, "Homeless people can be nice you know." I would have liked to say that I didn't doubt him, but that I didn't need protection from anyone - as he was the only person on the street directing attention towards me - and that I had just spent the last 4 hours talking non-stop and didn't need another person to deal with...
Anyway, I have booked the next event at Taratai (where I nearly booked my birthday!).
**********
TWTWTW = that was the week that was. Did you guess?
Although, I did note the irony of France reflecting the USA again*, in the first occurrence of a female and a minority running for president in both nations.
*Cf. French revolution inspired by the American one.
**********
Yes, pigs fly, Olivia has mentioned politics in her blog. Well...I don't usually like the vehemence of the discussions, that's all. I don't mind debate, but some people really take this stuff personally.
**********
The busy past week:
At the start of the week I discovered that another, possibly more distinguished academic organisation wants to interview me for their same department that I am in at the arts org. International Strategy - and it's from a totally different agency as the one that put me here...what a coincidence. So, interview possibly middle to late this week, as the head of the department is away.
The week at work will start off stressfuly, as there are two events, which have remained muddled in my mind for the two weeks I've been there. Friday afternoon was tough because my boss left as she always does, at 4pm, leaving me to allocate money for an event from a budget even she couldn't find on the system, and the London office had no idea. So I just went through and (carefully) PICKED ONE that looked somewhat related to the department and the purpose and had enough funds available, and emailed all concerned, including one of the budget holders...who approved it a few minutes later, to my immense relief, as it was nearly 6pm on the eve of a long weekend.
**********
Wednesday I met up with some bloggy friends and acquaintances at the bar under the Soho Curzon cinema. Or movie theatre, just to wind some people up...
Thursday, though...now that was a night to remember. I went on a [should I admit it?] dinner dates event at Gilgamesh in Camden. Good Lord. You've been to a palace, and you've been to a restaurant. Well, this restaurant was more of a palace. Come to think of it, no detail was overlooked, but then that was the way at the turn of the 20th century in the "pleasure palaces". That thought has only just occurred to me. Take for instance the Egyptian-themed Cafe Royal on Piccadilly. The ceiling is of gilded papyrii..sorry - off topic.
Have you read the Epic of Gilgamesh? (Wiki summary here / Online text here.) You should, it is the oldest written legend.
Ian Pengelley's Gilgamesh (the venue) leaves no surface untouched. Every wall is made up of carved and sculpted friezes of curly-bearded Mesopotamian warriors and camels and palm trees. It was like being at the Assyrian section in the British Museum. The tables are inlaid with brass foliage. The chairs, that's another story. They are like small thrones, plush, velour, damask. The arms really are arms with hands that wrap around the front legs which come up to arm level and end at a knop. Were it not for the knop, the throne would fit under the table and we girls wouldn't have to sit on the edges of our immensely comfortable seats. The DJ music was chilled and never overpowering. The only thing that disagreed with me was the LED lighting on a continual slow cycle of pink, green and indigo, which hurt my eyes.
Not a morsel of middle eastern food appeared on our set menus. We had chopsticks from beginning to end as apparently the menu is Pan-Asian (my fave!), starting with salted edamame, shrimp tempura sushi, Thai green curry chicken, and finally fruits and dessert. Every dish was truly delicious. Edamame is pretty foolproof, so I'll skip that. The sushi was delicious, and they provided pleasantly light soy sauce, rather than the usual dark salty one. I think I will buy light soy in future. I usually avoid Thai green curries as I find them too heavy on the coconut milk and too light on the fragrance, but this one was just right, and spicy too. They used pea aubergine and egg aubergine. (Both shaped like their namesakes.) Even the jasmine rice was perfectly steamed, not too sticky, and fell apart with the right pressure. The dessert was cleverly done. Large sharing bowls of totally exotic fruits sliced into finger food sizes: dragonfruit, starfruit, kiwi, pineapple, melon, passion fruit. In addition, small boats of banana and peanut butter crumble. Yes, you read right. Banana and peanut butter, and it was delicious.
Now on to the dinner guests. We had assigned seating with placecards, alternating males and females. Across from me was a very cute and pleasant young lady, who I am sure received a lot of interest the next day. At the head of the table to my left was an intellectual and talkative young man in advertising. He knew a lot about the sorts of things I can talk about, so we got on well, except he talked too much about it all. You know, he could tell me all about the history of the Persians' beards and the whole Spartan mentorship of young boys, etc. Just wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise about it, so therefore didn't realise I knew almost as much. So, intelligent, but a bit too much so and as a result a fringe-nerd.
On the other side of me was a fellow with whom I had only one exchange after shaking hands, and that was when he ID'd my surname as being Greek. Other than that, he was a sap with a terrible lisp, and he talked mainly to the other side of the table. Across from me next to the other girl was the guy I had chatted with during the drinks reception, something to do with telecommunications and living in Kensington.
The guys make the swap before the dessert course. Name cards are flipped over, but unfortunately someone messed with ours whilst we girls were on loo break. I was disappointed that the guy who was assigned to my left had been moved opposite but one because I found that he emanated so much kindness - I don't believe in auras but am sure he had one. I don't think I have ever said that about anyone. He was Serbian, born and educated here, tall and fair, and really easygoing and just really nice.
I was stuck instead with a calm guy who made no impression on me whatsoever (unfortunately he was interested in getting my number the next day), and then on my right a fit and compact type-A high-powered banker who was a bit drunk (obviously buying beer apart from the half-bottle wine allotted to each guest) and kept hitting on me. He asked me three times in the space of 15 minutes: a) what's a beautiful girl like you doing at an event like this? I said I wanted to expand my social network; b) why haven't you got a boyfriend? I said I could not answer that; c) Why don't guys chat you up? He answered that one himself. He said guys don't chat up girls like me because they're cowards.
After a while he realised we were not on the same wavelength, what with him being drunk and all, and started apologising profusely for offending me or having any other unsettling effect on my sensibilities. Not his words, but that's what he meant in a roundabout way. The calm guy on my other side took him - hehe - very calmly - even did his cufflinks up for him on his giant cuffs that came below his cashmere jumper sleeves (get the idea?). Apparently many of the guys know each other from previous events, and go skiing together and the like.
The reason I said earlier that the dessert was cleverly done was because we had to share 3 small banana crumbles between 5 people. Somehow the Serb offered to split with me. I dished out a bit at first, and he did that comfy thing that nice people do where he winked and wrinkled his nose and nodded in that kind way, whilst indicating I should take more. So I did, and we joked about the shape of the little boat being suitable for sliding the dessert out like an oyster, to which he replied he had had oysters the day before. Oh la.
When first introduced, the drunken banker had started off on the wrong tack with the Serb, with a reference to the old Yugoslav conflict, and the poor guy had to rebuff with nearly the exact thing I would have said, that basically that is so passe and that the new baddies are [from another part of the world]. I agreed and said that bringing that up was such a 90s thing anyway.
So, the 4 hours passed quickly, and I made my getaway at midnight, after everyone had moved to the bar and drunken banker had come over to me again and said we were being "continually thrust together". Sheesh.
Would you believe that to sit at the bar tables there is a minimum spend of £250? And all the tables were full. AND this is not Mayfair or Chelsea, it is Camden.
When I got outside there was a young homeless fellow ending a passing comment with two men who had left the restaurant about sinking and rising and heaven and hell...then attempting to bring me into it, he said how can you sink lower if you're already in hell/rise if you're not in heaven (I forget which). Walking slightly ahead of me as I went at a purposeful pace, he asked if anyone was bothering me (yes, him); I said no. He said, Would you like me to walk with you? I said no thanks. He said, If anyone tries to bother you just holler and I'll come. As he departed he said, "Homeless people can be nice you know." I would have liked to say that I didn't doubt him, but that I didn't need protection from anyone - as he was the only person on the street directing attention towards me - and that I had just spent the last 4 hours talking non-stop and didn't need another person to deal with...
Anyway, I have booked the next event at Taratai (where I nearly booked my birthday!).
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TWTWTW = that was the week that was. Did you guess?
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Ding Dong
On the way from work - Big Ben chimes, just for you London lovers out there:
And then I went to the bar at the Curzon Soho cinema where I met up with a few bloggy peeps I know.
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Speaking of which, Pandy and I met up for dinner in London - with Reading nowhere in sight. We ate lots of yummy dim sum and sushi at Ikkyusan (recommended) - in fact, Pandy had her first sushi, helped by the fact that salmon is not as fishy as some others.
And then I went to the bar at the Curzon Soho cinema where I met up with a few bloggy peeps I know.
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Speaking of which, Pandy and I met up for dinner in London - with Reading nowhere in sight. We ate lots of yummy dim sum and sushi at Ikkyusan (recommended) - in fact, Pandy had her first sushi, helped by the fact that salmon is not as fishy as some others.
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