Three window shots

San Francisco Bay
from the plane

Five days ago we began our return slog to Portugal with a one week layover in London, where we are at the moment.

Molly in the sky

Molly came with me this time, in my backpack. About 10 hours into the flight, the steward noticed her—gasp—then said, Oh my god! I thought it was a real dog! I assured him, she is.

London
from the bus last night
with reflections

We're creatures of habit so we're staying in a tiny flat near Finsbury Park again. There are grocery stores plus Turkish and Thai hole-in-the-wall restaurants near by, so we're set. Monday we head back to Portugal.

Night brings the fox

 This morning I lamented I hadn't seen a fox in London . . .

Nearly transparent fox

 but this evening there he was

graceful as a cat

checking out the neighborhood for scraps and rats.

Obviously his mum taught him
to look both ways before crossing.

For me, of course, it was love at first sight
followed by a series of blurry photos.

My street. My night.

A quick stop to mark perhaps the neighbor cat's poo?

Into the night

Then off into the night . . .

London but no foxes but a cat

I'm still waiting to see a fox or four in the backyard. M. Lee saw a mom and three juveniles when he was here in the spring so it's only fair but, so far, no foxes for me. The only critters who have graced the backyard of this airbnb is one American squirrel who eats the rose hips and the next door cat who drops by to poop.

Toledo for daggers

We're now launched on a 5.5 month stay in Europe. For the first three weeks my daughter and her family will be with us. Last week we stayed at an airbnb in Madrid. From there are three World Heritage sites within an hour of the city by train so it's an excellent base. Never mind the temperature hovered around 105° the entire time, the hottest in the city's recorded history, we visited a thousand year-old castle, 800 year-old cathedrals, 2000 year-old Roman walls, roads, and shrines stuffed with saints bones and the skulls of long dead Catholic Cardinals however, the big event was visiting Fabrica Zamorano, the shop of Mariano Zamorano, master sword smith of Toledo.

For just under $1000, Clark bought four daggers,
gifts for his two daughters, his wife, and one for himself.

Now we're in good old London where it's about 40° cooler and raining.

Stewart Lee and good-bye

Leicester Square Theatre - London

Last night we saw Stewart Lee at Leicester Square Theatre. A wonderfully outrageous fellow, I've been wanting to see him perform live for a few years now so this was a real treat. Tomorrow we leave London for the US thus ending this odyssey which began in London last July.

Angels on Regent Street - London

Firewords and another cemetery

4th of July Fireworks  -  Los Angeles
On the 4th of July flew from LA to London where we've been for the last few days, back in our old Finsbury Park neighborhood. This time we're much closer to our favorite halva place, Kofali Hot Nuts. The first day we bought a 2 lb block and have been working on it since. Also since arriving in London we've taken some good walks.

Lovely day in a London cemetery

For our first outing, needing a good walk to survive the stupor of  jet lag, we went to Kensal Green Cemetery. Nice place to visit. It's a charming mix of history, ruin and repair. Along with some 65,000 others, some English notables are laid to rest there including Charles Babbage, often referred to as the "father of the computer" and playwright and Nobel Laureate Harold Pinter.

Road's end

Quick catch up

We've been in London now for three weeks and I've barely made a note. The emphasis of this visit has been the National Gallery on Trafalgar Square. We went eight times, about four hours a visit, and saw everything. We've seen most of it before but after all the art in Italy, where the Renaissance began, we needed to take a another look at the Renaissance art here. So, done. And yes, it was different, more in context for one thing plus I had a better idea of who and what to look for.

Anyway, no time to go into details right now. I need to save my battery for Hampton Court. At the moment we're on the Overground headed there for a second look at well. For one thing, I want to get better photos of Henry's kitchen. Its fireplace alone is big enough to live in.

Pig in a Bentley

We've been in London for about a week now and today we went for a lovely five mile walk beside the Thames. Passing through a segment of a riverside park we met a woman on an outing with a gigantic, black and white, long haired pig and a little white dog. The pig was happily munching what looked like delicious spring grass and the dog was running around investigating everything. I'm not sure if the man leaning on the nearby black Bentley was her husband or her driver but he also smiled when I complimented her on the pig.

Poetry Unplugged

Poetry Unplugged's cave

Poetry Unplugged is the only open mic I've read at in London. It's not because I like the room which is the tiny basement of the Poetry Cafe. Yes, it has a certain funky charm but it also gets very crowded, stuffy and extremely hot. And it's not because everything read at Poetry Unplugged, or any open mic, spoken word or slam event, is wonderful because it's not. It's because Poetry Unplugged is early enough, it's not held in a shitty, noisy bar and, for the most part, the people who show up to read there are not pretentious dicks who swagger through their own reading then leave.

The credit goes to the MC, poet Niall O'Sullivan. He does a wonderful job of keeping things interesting, fair, fun and moving. That said, included below is a review of the event which, to my delight and his credit, Niall posted on his own blog.

One of the worst evenings I’ve ever endured was at an event called Poetry Unplugged. About 50 people were crammed into a sweaty basement, all perched expectantly on orange plastic chairs. How nice, I thought, to see such an enthusiastic audience for poetry. As one figure after another leapt up to read their doggerel, the truth dawned. They were all here not to listen, but to perform. They would suffer each other's poetic rants, but only for their moment of glory. A woman in a red wig recited a poem about her vagina. A man in a blue jumper did a lengthy lament on lost love. It was a very long night.

Duh. Of course people are there to read but it's not the feeding frenzy this nube describes. Generally people are pretty open to each other at readings but come on! Why wouldn't that include a little quid pro quo? Yet, for all the years I've read at these things, I am still prone to what is sometimes breath stopping shyness. At the reading two weeks ago it hit me full force. By my second poem I basically caught up with my breath but that night I never fully got into the words.

Uncle Monkey, Ugly Bear and Clarence
discussing my NaNo manuscript

This week I was more at ease. The difference? Before reading I acknowledged my nervousness to the audience. Simple, right? No. When I got to the mic it was all I could do to glance at people and whisper, "I'm really nervous". Still it was enough to break the tension. It also helped I read Jazz which is more a performance piece than anything else.

I extracted it from the NaNoWriMo "novel" I wrote a few years ago. In fact, thus far these four paragraphs are all I have used from that entire 50,000 word manuscript. No worries. I may even write a second one some November. I loved banging through a month of crazy intensity, 2000 words a day, the world be damned, though no doubt it helped that I had zero expectations and no plot. I naturally share the NaNo point of view, "No plot? No Problem!". 

The cafe is now closed until the first of September. We leave London in about a week so that's it for me this time around.

Windy Brighton

Yesterday was Kathy's last full day here so we went to Brighton to see the palace and today she leaves for Moscow then back to the States. Brave lady, 85 and traveling alone.

Kathy and M. at the Royal Pavilion

Brighton was windy as hell but, OMG, the royal pavilion was wildly and insanely extravagant. George IV drained the kingdom building it then, basically, ate himself to death there. Sorry, again, photos not allowed but you can get an idea here. Stingy policy, if you ask me.

Minerva at the beach

In any case, Minerva loved the beach.

.

Houses of Parliament - no photos please

I was wrong. We ordinary people did not get to run around the Houses of Parliament snapping selfies willy-nilly.

They only allow photos in the great hall so, on the way out, we snapped a couple.

Anyway, what little we saw of the place was quite impressive, arcane and antiquated.

Although the House of Lords is currently being rocked by a very juicy scandal complete with cocaine, prostitutes and salacious gossip compliments of Lord Sewel, or Lord Sewer as one journalist called him. Lord Sewel is of the last of the 90 some hereditary Lords still in the House of Lords and has lived down to our lowest expectation of aristocracy, proving himself to be yet another pompous, clueless dickhead.

Another cold day in London

Me and Swami
warmer days in Segovia

Another gray cold day in London. Accuweather, which "guarantees superior accuracy" promised it wouldn't rain today. But I just checked again, you should always check again when you're using Accuweather, and now it says "rain starting in 65 minutes" and counting. Rain with a high of 67°. I'm gobbling my oatmeal and swigging down my coffee. We leave in 20 minutes. We're walking over, picking up M's mum because today we're taking her to tour the Houses of Parliament. At certain times, they allow us ordinary people to swarm the place with our cameras to do our selfies in front of all the famous statues. Swami is coming. He loves that shit. Well, actually he just humors me.

DITL not in America

We saw the play Gypsy yesterday and Book of Mormon the day before. Great casts. Great performances and, best of all, M.'s mother adored them both, especially Gypsy. And yesterday, on the way home, there was a show on the bus. Some poor woman suddenly erupted because no one would open the window. Actually, she was yelling at M. Lee because he wouldn't open the window.

Look at you! It's "summer" and you're wearing jeans and three layers of tops. It's SUMMER. Open the window. Look at you all. I hate you all. You disgust me. You're maggots. You're despicable worms. It's summer and look at you all. Sitting there like that!

No one moved or said a word until, that is, a guy in the back of the bus, started yelling back.

Get off the bus you crazy bitch. GET OFF THE BUS. Get out of here. Shut up. Nobody wants to hear you.

Then, of course she really went off.

You don't know what I've been through. None of you know what I've been through. Look at you all, sitting there in your layers. It's summer. You don't know what I've been through. The life I've lived. What's happened to me. I hate you all. Do you hear me? I HATE you all, every rotten one of you. You don't know. I HATE you all. Shut up. Shut up.

And on it went, escalating with each exchange.

If this were happening in America, this is when the vigilante asshole big mouth in the back of the bus, who we all wished would just shut the fuck up, pulls out his gun and shoots her or, other way around, she pulls out her gun and shoots him or they both pull out their guns and shoot each other and/or M. who was sitting between them or miss him and each other but shoot us and/or we all pull out our guns etc. etc. I don't have a gun so I'd just get shot. But it's London so, what did happen is, I pulled out my camera but, just at that moment, she dashed off the bus, ran to the end of it and started wildly smashing at the asshole's window with both her fists, yelling at him all the while as he yelled back at her but, before she could punch the window in, and it did seem just in the nick of time, the driver eased the bus back out into traffic and drove away.

Ok. We gotta go pick up M.'s mom.

London lowdown

We got to London a couple of days ago and are staying in a flat near Finsbury Park which is about six miles north of city center. London is so expensive, we were lucky to find anything even this close in. It's an uncluttered, two room apartment with a tiny closet-like kitchen owned by a nice couple who only recently moved to their new place a bit further out. M. Lee, who compulsively follows these things, told me it's got a market value of almost two million dollars (US) and that a 292 sq. ft. studio apartment on the top floor here is valued at over a half a million US. London real estate is back to pre-crash prices of a few years ago and still going up. Even he thinks it's crazy and depressing.

Morning after another night at
El Raval's drunkie corner, Barcelona

 
What I like is that, unlike where we stayed in Barcelona, it is actually quiet here at night. Last night was the first good sleep I've had in a month. The bedroom opens onto a lovely garden instead of the drunkie corner. Also, the apartment is near both the Victoria and Piccadilly lines. Very handy for getting around town.

And last evening, to our delight, we discovered that nearby Green Lanes road is a multi-ethnic foodie gem. We're not exactly foodies but we are vegetarian and always on the lookout for healthy cheap veggie take away. After Istanbul, Turkish cuisine currently tops our list. The Turks actually like vegetables so many of their traditional dishes are vegetarian. Last night we discovered gözleme, a Turkish flatbread filled with various toppings (for us spinich and feta), sealed and cooked on a griddle. On Green Lanes they are only £2 which, today, is just over $3. In a town where even the price of a cup of tea makes you think twice, that's a bargain.

Ok. Gotta go. We're meeting M.'s mom who arrives today for one week.

God save the people

Graffiti on New Oxford St., London 2012

Just by way of rolling the front page on, here's a photo I took last summer during our stay in London.

London dog

One thing I loved about London, dogs are permitted on public transportation.



There are some restrictions but, in general, if you can carry your dog up and down the escalators and they are well behaved, then they can ride.



This fellow was having a great time. I'm not sure all the passengers were amused but some were, including me.



That is all.

Tooting Bec to Paris

Fond farewells in Tooting Bec.

Minerva, Ellie, Monkey Dude & Swami in Tooting Bec

We've come to regret bringing bikes on this trip.

Leaving London. Moving is a nightmare.

Home for the next five weeks.

In Europe, what we in the US call the 1st floor is called ground,
the 2nd is the 1st, the 3rd is the 2nd etc.

Elevator to the 3rd (or 4th) floor

John, this one's for you.

This is only half of the cheese selection at the grocery store

Swami

Swami at Tower of London

Poetry Unplugged

I finally got around to reading at Poetry Unplugged, the weekly open mic night at the Poetry Society's Poetry Cafe. Very good group. Friendly. Enthusiastic. Ten years running. London is a poetry friendly place. Once again, I think it's the difference in history. England has a grand history with some very great poetry while the US, well, we just don't have much history at all so, when it comes to poetry, not much to refer to or venerate. And West Coast poetry, especially Beat poetry which I inherited, was a lot about discovering there even was a world beyond America and protesting America's ignorance of it. Anyway, sadly not much time to write these days, even this blog. Time to hit the Tube, which does by the way, include poetry. Thank you London.

Napoleon's toothbrush

Napoleon and his beloved red toothbrush

In the way that ordinary items sometimes do if they happen to survive just long enough, one of Napoleon's toothbrushes has taken on a life of its own. But it is not in France. Like so many items of historical interest, it is in a British museum, in this case the Wellcome Collection where we were the other day. They call themselves "a free destination for the incurably curious" and that they are. It's a fabulous place.

As you might guess, in real life Napoleon preferred a silver handle.

Sadly, our time in London is quickly coming to an end though the trip is not over yet. Next Wednesday we move on to Paris for five weeks. I'm really going to miss London but at least the weather outlook is much better there than here. Small compensation but I'll take it.