taking the gloomy bank holiday monday by the horns Tweet

After two days of pottering inside (mainly) and ruined hopes that we'd be walking in the sun on the third, we decided to go out, still, but close enough to home that the rain threatening to fall any minute could not drench us before getting back home. When one puts it so simply, we're spoilt for choice: there's Regent's Park, and Regent's Park, and then there's Regent's Park. We'll surely miss it when we move out next month, but knowing every nook and cranny in it isn't the greatest USP. Though when you come across a runaway bride/ Asian lady with a great sense of fashion (humor?), hope is born again that some level of excitement can be found on the previous hunting grounds of the aristocrats. Like pink chestnut flowers. Not quite the impact of the Asian flame trees, but certainly more striking than the white chestnut flowers in Romania.



Walking round the lake, I stopped and marveled at this white wisteria, while Chris theorized that beyond the net covered in blooms, where the garden looked more wild and appealing (I want to go there!) is not an area opened to commoners, but rather part of the American Ambassador's Residence.



The minaret has always caught my eye from across the lake, but only from this angle could I take in more of the mosque. If this isn't London, I don't know what it is. The playground of swans silently gliding in and out of private waters, perhaps.



In the peddle boat, many a nature scene seemed novel: mothers and fathers feeding offsprings, tiny moorhens in nests perched on every available branch, and even baby seagulls struggling to swallow the rare fish. For a while it even got interactive, as we followed a duck places, until both the duck and the audience got bored.



And before heading to a pub, even farther away, we feasted our eyes on the only rays of sun about, water irises and buttercups. In the end, the ever threatening raindrops spared us. What did we learn? That bank holidays will be enjoyed even if it takes the extra jumper. Or furry gloves, in Northern parts, I'm told.

chez gorgeoux: when life gives you shrimp... Tweet

...better make something new each time. Today I was thinking coconut, and I was chewing on some tasty dried papaya (the only EVER tasty papaya) so it didn't take long to see all three together. I started with a cup of water and veggie stock, added a spoonful of fruit, a teaspoon of dried chili, a teaspoon of turmeric powder and two spoonfuls of coconut flakes. I added the shrimp and a teaspoon of coriander seeds, then boiled everything down to a stew. Once I turned the fire off, I added a spoonful of double cream, mixed, and served in wraps with fresh basil.



My obliging guinea pig and I couldn't believe just how sweet the outcome was! Papaya is to be feared. So I figure that next time I'll use half the quantity. Other improvements? Sky's the limit. I hear that there's room for even more heat and some sourness. Pickled green chili was the suggestion, and I'm also thinking, as ever, that sour cream is X times better than double cream. Also, I'm tempted to use coconut milk, reduce the broth less, add the juice of a lime before serving and present it over rice next time. And knowing me, I'll be trying as many of those ideas as I can... at the same time. Fooling around in the kitchen FTW.

nothing much I can do Tweet

When it rains on my babies, no matter how much they'd love a bath, most flowers become translucent and frayed. I watch as their beauty fades and forget all about being stuck inside on yet another wet bank holiday weekend. But I do muse about the rain. Blimey, I'm becoming more British than ever intended. Enough about the weather already!

then there's the moon Tweet

And one of the things I'll miss about this flat when we move out: surveilling the whole sky from my windowsill, and smoking while at it, as some TV plays in the lounge and I can dip in and out of both worlds as I please. Sometimes a bird will chirp in its sleep, and other times the milk float will pass by, its electrical engine gearing up in my ears minutes before, and minutes after.

chez adrideo: mushroom & bacon tortilla Tweet

I wonder whether I'll ever cook a tortilla when I live with someone who excels at it. This is the last rendition, cooked last night, and as always, we realize it tastes even better the day after. Not to mention you can slice it really nicely and worry not about what's around that would compliment Friday evening beers at home. OK, some sort of nuts exist, but where's the style in that?

I saved its life Tweet

All you want when you work from home, as I did today, is that extra bit of excitement. Well, the universe listened, and delivered. This bee came awandering and helping it get out while protecting myself took a bit of ingenuity. It's not as if you can pick the bee up, or give it directions. Also, I couldn't go back to work in that sad buzzing only to listen carefully in case it became desperate. In the end, the same sash window that confused the poor bee in the first place turned into a one-way out labyrinth, doubled up as witness protection. Half a meter away from the creature, I safely watched the drama advance and resolve. And felt confident enough to take a photo. I'm rather pleased with myself. If only the same method worked with wasps!

nowhere to go Tweet

In less than a week, the morning glory blooms reached the top of the tree. I took the vine all the way back to the bottom of the support plant once, and I wonder whether I should do it again. Had this happened at the office, I'd be in way too much trouble. Yes, the trees are at least twice as tall, and twice less leafy, but still—training several vines up and down three umbrella trees would easily become a second job. And my current job would get extremely jealous.

may flower a bit late to the party Tweet

But at least it's not June. The roses also a bit later than last year (or so says trustworthy Photojojo's Time Capsule) but enough of this, or you might take me for a serious gardener or something. Yes, I deleted a long rant about weather (being much better this year overall). What are THESE PEOPLE doing to me?!

daily nonsense: your card has been expired Tweet

Due to the fact that the following card, from which you credited funds to your Royal Mail Online Prepay Account, is nearing its expiry date, the following credit, of unused funds, has been made [...]. Credits can continue to be made to your Royal Mail Online Prepay Account with any valid credit or debit card by logging onto www.royalmail.com and clicking on "My Profile".

My card has been expired? Credits can continue to be made? This twisted, wooden English has been inspired by Yoda and can continue to be amusing me.

sunkissed skin, if slightly burned Tweet

I woke up late, as it often happens in a weekend of no plans and reaffirmation of freedom by reading into the wee hours. The sunshine was obliterating the contour of things and blinding sleepy eyes. It was very fortunate, then, to be invited to the first picnic this year over the phone, rather than through a note. I can get dressed without seeing, but reading a note would've been problematic. Mind you, I'm not going to win any speed or fashion contest while getting dressed without the use of my eyes, but how much could've gone wrong while preparing oneself for a laid-back, two-guest loll in the sun? The bathing suit mattered, and then some pieces of cloth had to cover it for the comfort of the masses of people heading to the same park for the same reasons. That sorted, we packed a lot of Pimm's with homegrown mint, British strawberries, chopped lemons and several bottles of lemonade. We added a lot of ice to our new (and soon to prove helpful but impractical) cool bag, crossed our fingers for the new blanket, pulled out the old plastic glasses, grabbed a large bottle of sparkling water, and topped everything with simple bites—cured meats, queen green olives, soft cheeses, crispy poppy seed bread and sea salt chocolates. When we left the house, we were loaded like two Greek donkeys and, luckily, just as patient.

Some six hours passed on the too small picnic blanket chatting, gobbling, snoozing and baking ourselves in the fierce sun. My back itches now, as I refused to apply sunscreen, but what a smashing tan I'll have! Except the lower half of my body needs another picnic, despite employing the bathing suit for most of the time. Before this gorgeous sunset kicked in, we took one too many trips to the public loo five minutes away, where I queued endlessly and risked missing the sunset altogether. And after the evening settled in with its customary chilliness, we managed to get out of the park right as gates were being locked with little to no warning to those lingering inside. Obviously, the Queen has limited tolerance for strange ideas her subjects have about her parks—expecting public loos, and the use of the parks past sunset. That aside, the softer, tastier highlights of the day are captured below: said sunset, impromptu photo sessions, the early moon among the fluffy clouds on the bright blue dress of the sky, a small amount of the overall consumption of Pimm's (snoozing in the back), the lonely, empty shoes in rare demand, period drama costumes, the tiniest yellow ladybug in the world, a delighted shrieking girl running around in her pampers, and the most amazing tree flower yet spotted in Regent's Park—the tulip tree might look like anything else, but you can judge its flower by yourself when you reach the tenth and last photo in the slideshow below.

Turn on JavaScript to see these photos.

Do you read this in Google Reader? Then you might want to see the ten photos on Flickr. If you're viewing my post on an iPhone/ iPad, do tell me in a comment how this slideshow works for you. It seems like a good idea to evolve past Flash, but flickrshow by Ben Sekulowicz is in beta and I'm still pondering whether to employ it more often.

domesticated morning glory Tweet

Last year I planted morning glory in every pot that already hosted a larger plant so that the resident would serve as support for the climber. At the time, the outdoor collection of plants included an umbrella tree that nearly died over the winter, which made me move it inside. Little did I know that some seeds had stayed with it. But ever since the vine started climbing, we've been holding our breath for this day: the first bloom. And what a satisfying sight! Chris even suggested (requested?) that I plant some morning glory with the umbrella trees at the office! But, hey, I've used all the seeds I collected, and it's a bit late in the year unless we're rooting for fall and winter blooms. Perhaps that'd be the real test: morning glory blooming for Father Christmas.

one of the best yet, but who's counting? Tweet

Chris, laughing in his sleep: Yes! Of course! It is in the middle of the horn! Where it expands!
Me: The horn?
Chris, still laughing: Yes!
Me: What expands?
Chris: The horn! In the middle!
Me: ...
Chris: I'll draw you a diagram.

that's what he said Tweet

A couple of minutes before, when I could swear he was sleeping.

Chris: I think the date got pushed due to good weather.
Me: When is it now?
Chris: Next week.
Me: Remind me, what is next week?
Chris: ...

A couple of minutes later, when I could swear he was sleeping.

Chris: How many seats?
Me: How many seats?!
Chris: Yeahhh...
Me: Eight, I think.
Chris: OK. Eight.

breaking passerine news Tweet

As we got home some time past 8pm and managed to simultaneously get dinner going, pick up work from where we left it around 6pm, and catch up on Gordon Brown leaving No. 10 with his kids while David Cameron entered No. 10 without his kids, Chris yelled FUCKING HELL convincingly enough that I turned to face the TV presently. He, however, was looking out of the window! So after more head turning and vigorous yelling—WHAT?! WHAT?! A BIRD JUST FELL! WHERE? WHERE?—we moved straight to whispers. As I approached the window, Chris cautiously moved back. The PMs, old and new, stood unnoticed. We had a casualty on our balcony, some believed (and that's why local news take the biscuit, even for very bright professionals).



The creature moved! It was breathing, too! Two solid reasons to observe it closely for a while, so I reported back anytime it took a step or turned its head, holding my ground firmly against BBC News. Why, this was a thrush! Just like the friendly creature last year, though a few weeks early. Maybe that chap wasn't friendly either, just fallen? Will we EVER find out?! Right now I've just about managed to only check on the bird every couple of hours (still more than the case with national news), and coo SWEET SOUL to the very reason I can't smoke on my lounge windowsill tonight. It's still sleeping on our railings as I write, between two pots, all puffed up—and Chris just got up from the floor, having checked on it through the rosemary sprigs. However, the question stands: is the bird HURT? Is it tired? Paying a visit? Carrying a divine message? A terrible disease?



Now I'd love to turn (much a turn about nothing tonight) to the panel and debate the matter at hand. But, what do you know, limited resources on local news, so I bid you good night instead. Tomorrow morning both this feathered home invasion and the new government will be sorted one way or another. If the butterfly effect on the financial markets lets you sleep, that is.

Update, later morning: The new government has taken off, and so has the bird. We can still tell it was for real, as it left a very healthy poop behind, possibly a third its size. Then, it was all a matter of digestion! While where I come from, bird poop means good luck, we hope the new government has better legacy.

bye bye, rebecca hossack Tweet

Not long ago, a letter arrived from Camden Council, detailing the pains and penalties we would suffer if we put our garbage outside the house, for collection, any other day but Tuesday—was there a mention of Friday? Because Friday is equally official (after much fiddling with the council website). Having the pleasure to hear waste trucks pass by at pretty much any hour of day and night (how's 2 a.m. just now?), any day of the week, we were... intrigued. So someone always keen to speak to council reps over the phone took the initiative, and we soon learned that, well, the future really wasn't as black as painted in the official letter. We don't know exactly what happened, but the name Rebecca Hossack came up. Ooh la la, that made perfect sense!

A Tory ward councillor for Bloomsbury, good at arriving late at meetings, Rebecca Hossack is quite something. She runs an art gallery up our street (with a branch in Charlotte Street), she spearheaded the amusing (read doomed) allotment project for turning Noho (or was it Ho No?) into dead veggie beds and run down sheds, and she entered the Adidas competition for guerilla gardening—sweet, but is that legal? This week, Rebecca Hossack no longer has a seat in the Camden Council. I'd say she made quite an impression.

no silver bugs this time Tweet

He turns around in his sleep, and strikes a conversation just like that.

Chris: I think I know pretty well what it is.
Me, having waited patiently a few seconds: What is it?
Chris: Well... a... viewfinder... for watching visitors.
Me: What does it look like?
Chris, whispering: Small... and... round.

You should always whisper when watching visitors through a small and round viewfinder.

in the loop: rokhsan Tweet

Perfect Sunday music via Al and thanks to the MySpace Band Player Generator, so make sure you hit that play button! Rokhsan's music rocks, especially the new tracks—I'll Be Your Lady, Soldier, Your Time—and seeing her live should be sweet. She needs better management, however: YouTube options are limited, Glastonbury was two years ago, and so was her two-tracks single, I found nothing about her SXSW show last year, most updated info is on Facebook and she more or less just got on Twitter. Beyond label and agent companies, Rokhsan could ask a sibling/ close friend to record bits and bobs during live shows and upload them on YouTube. Then she could post those to Facebook and Twitter, and make it clear that a. these is where she connects with people and b. everyone gets a reply :) It feels sad to see such a promising artist have so little representation online, and even that, terribly fragmented and unstructured. School should teach all of us a thing or two about marketing and sales.

Update, May 12th 2010: Why does Nelly Furtado come to mind, now that these have looped and looped to the point where the listening count should have tripled, at least? I have mixed feelings about Nelly Furtado, and I've never listened to her in a loop.

sepuku sounds lovely Tweet

It's so easy (and generally pleasant, if you avoid Oxford Street and the likes) to walk around Central London that one doesn't think much of it. But after a day of carrying a 7kg handbag here and there and here again to the point where I had to think of anything but walking while will alone put a foot in front of the other and brought me home, I sat down to make a Google Map of those wanderings: home -> key cutting -> polling station -> office -> estate agent -> Pret -> office -> meeting -> pub -> home. To my surprise, a bit over 4 miles!


View my wanderings on election day in a larger map

Trying to swallow the figure (6.6 kilometers? really?) and think of anything else but sepuku, the following come to mind (next to this was a pretty normal day): I could easily carry beers/ wine in a backpack AND wear heels on my next Thames Path/ countryside walks. Food for thought. I cannot really jump with pride anymore at the thought of having walked 5 miles on a weekend day. Is there any way I could move closer to the office any sooner? If I keep it up, I'm gonna end up dead or fit, and either outcome seems cut to my measure.