Timmy came to us during the summer of 2005. He had been abandoned at the vet clinic where A. was working at the time, and initially, was a foster-rabbit. But when it became clear he was unlikely to be rehomed, we decided we'd better keep him.
Unlike his former cagemate Gnasher, who ended up with us because her aggression made her unattractive to potential new owners, Timmy had a sweet and loving temperament. But we knew it was unlikely he'd be rehomed because of his various handicaps. It was obvious that he'd suffered, when young, from a serious ear infection with left him with a permanent head tilt. He also likely had some sort of bacterial infection early in life, which led to a malformed jaw and nose. As a result, he leaned permanently to one side, and because he was lop-eared, he was effectively half-blind (as one eye was often covered by an ear). On top of all that, he was also largely deaf.
Though he became (after a few months of regular care in our home) healthy, his handicaps were permanent, making him less attractive to potential adopters; understandably, they worried about the cost of future veterinary care. So we kept him, and are very glad we did.
Despite his various problems, Timmy was a sweet, gentle little guy who always enjoyed a cuddle. Sadly, this meant that he was often bullied by the other rabbits in our house - at least, until we managed to bond them. He also wasn't the smartest rabbit we've ever had, as this videodemonstrates; one evening he upended a plastic basket over himself, and couldn't figure out how to get himself out from beneath it!
Kids, in particular, loved Timmy. They didn't mind that he was a bit crooked, and often smelly (as he wasn't quite capable of grooming himself fully, and needed regular bathing). He was just that lovely.
Timmy left us very quickly - taking a turn for the worse on Wednesday, and becoming very weak on Thursday. Despite extra care and feeding, when we came downstairs on Friday morning, he was gone. I'm glad he didn't have a long, drawn-out period of suffering - and truth be told, he lived far, far longer than we ever expected, given all of his health problems. We had him for seven years, and he would have been at least a year old when he was abandoned at the clinic - making him an elderly rabbit.
He was predeceased by his former cagemates, Fawn and Gnasher, and will be greatly missed.
Gnasher came to us sometime in 2005 - we can't recall the exact month. She had been dumped by her previous owner at the veterinary clinic where A. was working at the time. She initially stayed with us for a month or two that year, as a foster-rabbit, before returning to the clinic for a time in the hopes that a new home might be found for her - but eventually, she made her way back to us, in the summer/fall of 2006. At that stage, we estimate she was 1 or 2 years old.
It was pretty obvious why Gnasher was unlikely to be rehomed: she had quite the aggressive streak. Like the Killer Rabbit of Monty Python fame, she was possessed of "great, gnashing teeth" which she was not afraid to use (and which inspired the name we eventually gave her.) Who knows what was done to her when she was very young, to bring out such a nasty streak, but it made her a highly unattractive prospect to most, for rehoming. We thought we could give her a chance, though, and decided we were going to have to be the ones to take her on - since nobody else was likely to do it.
I have had many bunnies as pets, over the past 12 years or so, and I must admit that Gnasher was not my favourite of the bunch. Her temperament made her a difficult animal to care for. For the first two years we had her, I had to wear leather gloves any time I wanted to pick her up or even get close to her. When approached, she would hiss and honk in warning, then bite with little provocation. She bit me more times than I can count. Eventually, however, after several years of care, I learned to handle her without getting bitten (most of the time, anyway!). And we eventually bonded her to our other rabbit, Timmy - though not without a great deal of blood and flying fur at first! Poor Timmy really got the crap kicked out of him at times, but managed to hold his own.
Gnasher and the infamous "bunny corset"
Over this past winter, however, A. and I noticed that things were slowly changing. Gnasher didn't seem to be her usual self - but she was, after all, getting old. Her interest in food declined, and she began losing weight (not a bad thing at first, since she was always a bit of a porky critter and often stole poor Timmy's food). But more notably, her aggressive streak began to wane. In recent months she hardly ever honked or hissed at me when I approached her, and I could often pick her up with little fuss. A. examined her regularly and determined that she didn't appear to be in pain. Ironically, he had plans to take her into the clinic this weekend, and draw a blood sample to send away for analysis.
He never got the chance to do so. This morning, when he went down to the basement to feed our fish, he heard a thumping sound coming from the cage. It was Gnasher, in the midst of a seizure. A. picked her up and she immediately went limp. He examined her and attempted to resuscitate, but with no effect; minutes later, she was gone. Thankfully, it appears that she did not suffer. We'll never know what the true problem was, though A. suspects it was likely a liver or kidney issue (neither of which could have been treated effectively.)
Though Gnasher was definitely not an easy animal to love - she was what the late Steve Irwin might have classed as a "naughty little ripper" - we did care for her very much. Sometimes people and things come into our lives which are difficult, but we must nonetheless learn to live with them. She certainly taught me a thing or two about being more patient and tolerant. She is doubtless chasing other rabbits in Bunny Heaven right now, hissing and honking gleefully as she does so.
She leaves behind her cage mate Timmy, who will now live out his days unterrorized, but doubtless a lot more bored.
I've never been the sort to have naturally robust cardiovascular fitness. Growing up feeling tormented by Phys Ed classes, as as kid I hated endurance runs, team sports, and pretty much anything that involved getting sweaty and out of breath. As a teenager I made many abortive attempts at becoming an aerobics bunny, but could never manage to sustain a routine long enough for it to provide any real benefit. It wasn't until my late twenties that I discovered forms of exercise - first yoga, then Pilates - that I actually enjoyed and managed to stick with for more than a few months, before getting bored and giving up. But while both of those regimes are amazing for building flexibility and strength, they don't do much in the way of working the heart and lungs, and burning fat.
I've thought for some time now that I really should do something to address my rather pathetic cardiovascular capacity, but wasn't sure what this should be. Sprinting for more than two or three minutes left me wheezing, with a pain in my chest. The idea of running around a field somewhere until I collapsed still sounded as hellish as it did when I was a kid. But then, I found out about walk-to-jog programs; specifically, I found this:
Since I've always walked a lot (including regular four-mile return commutes to my office), I was intrigued and decided to give it a go. It felt realistic and achievable to start out by walking, but with a few short bursts of jogging thrown in. And I liked the fact that the increase in jogging time was slow and steady. Still, I was a bit skeptical - the thought of being able, at the end of twelve weeks, to jog for ten whole minutes at a time seemed unreal. Other people - fit, athletic types - do that sort of thing with ease, but not the likes of me!
Well. Fourteen weeks later (I took two weeks off the plan, due to travel and mild illness), I can report that I DID IT. I actually did it! When I started in mid-July, I jogged for just 3 out of 15 minutes (walking for the remaining 12). But by week 4, I was up to jogging 50% of the time - 12 out of 24 minutes. By week 8, I was jogging 24 out of 30 minutes. The last four weeks were the most intense, as the jogging time quickly ramped up. I was worried I wouldn't make it, but really surprised myself - it was nowhere near as strenuous or difficult as I thought it would be. And now that I've finished the program? I can jog for 40 out of 44 minutes.
To say I'm amazed is an understatement. While these workouts have undoubtedly been challenging, at no point did I ever find myself thinking, "This is just too hard...I'm not going to make it." Credit to the slow and steady nature of the training, I guess. Successfully finishing each week of the program felt great, and really motivated me to keep going. Plus, I'm seeing the benefits in my body, as well as feeling them - so far, I've dropped 5 lbs and 2.5% body fat.
Now that I've finished the program, I'm definitely not resting on my laurels. After so much effort, I'd hate to lose the conditioning I've built up. So I've joined a gym for the winter, and have moved indoors to work on the treadmills over the coming months. Now that I have some endurance, I'm going to start working on speeding up my slow, shuffling gait, as well as adding some inclines and interval training.
I never would have imagined that at the age of 37, I'd become a jogger and actually enjoy it. Just goes to show that if a wimpy gal with an aversion to getting sweaty and out of breath can do it, anyone can!
After all the hoo-ha in recent months about the move of the Halifax Farmers' Market from its old location at the Keith's Brewery to the new "Seaport" site at Pier 20, I've been meaning to check it out. With over a month having passed since the new site opened, I got up early this morning and headed down.
My verdict? Too soon to tell for certain; best to wait another six months to a year before passing final judgment. However, based on what I experienced this morning, I fear that the market may have sacrificed the charm and character of the old brewery location for little to no benefit. When I arrived at 8am, it was very busy - and when I left at 9.30, it was beginning to heave. The same could be said of the old location, however - and despite the new site being a cavernous open space, there are still bottlenecks in the flow of people at certain points (a major drawback at the brewery location). It seemed like pretty near all the vendors from the old location have made the move, though, and I was left to wonder who is still holding out over at the brewery. May need to go down there next week, to see. The market organisers tell us that it's early days yet, and in a few months, once the market is open several days a week instead of just Saturdays, the congestion levels will lessen. I certainly hope so. By the time I left this morning, I was reminded of why I don't often go to this market - I prefer to spend my Saturday mornings tucked up in bed, instead of battling the hordes. Based on today's experience, the new location isn't yet living up to its promise of making the market experience more enjoyable.
That said, there were definitely some positives. Obviously, there's a great selection available and I picked up some lovely Annapolis Valley goodies - beets, corn and apples (including two varieties I've never seen before: "Ginger Gold" and "Mollie's Delicious"), free-range eggs, and excellent yogurt from the Fox Hill Cheese House. The availability of ample free parking is a major bonus (though unless you arrive at the crack of dawn, you may have to walk 5-10 minutes between where your vehicle is parked and the market entrance). Also, the new space has a mezzanine level where most of the arty/crafty vendors are located - useful to have them separated somewhat from the food vendors. Finally, the lousy acoustics of the open hall have ensured that the legions of wailing hippie buskers - who plagued the Brewery Market with their dubious musicianship - have largely disappeared. Huzzah! (hehe)
In the final estimation, I think that for the short term at least, I will be sticking with the little mid-day Friday market at the Victoria General Hospital. It's just down the street from my office, has my favourite vendors from the Saturday market, and I rarely have to wait more than a minute or two at the stands. But if the new Seaport Market does what it's meant to, hopefully shopping there will become more pleasant and more convenient in future.
Having decided against going away for our holidays this summer (and in the interest of keeping things relaxed and low-stress), this year we opted instead for a three-day “staycation” down on the South Shore of Nova Scotia. I was a bit embarrassed by the fact that I’d never really been further southwest than Lunenburg, and knew there were some interesting sights to be seen. So early on Monday morning last week, we hit the road.
Two hours down Highway 103 got us to the village of Port Joli, where we veered off onto the side road to the Seaside Adjunct of Kejimkujik National Park. I’d heard lots of great things about the Adjunct (though I still have yet to visit the main park – maybe this fall) and we planned to spend the morning hiking to the beach there. It’s really a beautiful spot – a half-hour’s walk through forest and across bogs strewn with pitcher plants brought us to the seashore. The white sand beach stretches for several miles, and had just been re-opened to visitors after several months – access is barred for part of the year as endangered birds use the beach as a nesting place. The large rocks found just off the shoreline are home to lots of cormorants and other seabirds, as well as a colony of seals, who could be seen sunning themselves on the rocks.
The afternoon was spent doubling-back to the town of Lunenburg, where we’d planned to spend the night. We took the scenic option, however, following the Lighthouse Route east along the coast from Port Medway – a very pretty stretch of road, passing through lots of small fishing villages (and a nice local coffee house in the middle of nowhere, at Broad Cove). At LaHave, we queued up to take the cable ferry across the river (sailing time: 10 minutes), then drove into Lunenburg via its southern back roads.
That evening we’d booked dinner at the much-lauded restaurant Fleur de Sel, which last year opened a suite for overnight guests on its second floor. As a treat, we booked a package which gave us a night’s accommodation in the suite, the chef’s seven-course tasting menu for dinner that evening, and breakfast served by the chef the following morning. The suite was lovely – nicely-decorated, spacious and very comfortable. I took a bath in the big clawfoot slipper tub, then dressed for dinner.
The meal was – unsurprisingly – outstanding. Unusually, A. and I were served different dishes throughout – I’ve never been served a tasting in a restaurant where all the guests weren’t served the same things. Of course, we also asked for suitable wine pairings – so in effect, over the course of the evening, we tasted 14 different dishes and 14 different wines between the two of us. The next day, the restaurant emailed me the full menu (posted here), which was a good thing as I'd never have remembered it all! The biggest surprise on the menu was definitely the pig’s head roulade - sounds appalling, but it was absolutely delicious. Also, the Nova Scotia wines – God knows we produce a lot of nasty plonk in this province (I’m looking at you, Jost Wineries), but there are a couple of small vineyards which are beginning to produce some remarkably nice wines. But the entire meal was superb – save the pig’s head, there was nothing weird or exotic about it. Just good, fresh, local food, cooked perfectly and served with style. A memorable meal.
Tuesday morning we awoke to pouring rain, thunder and lightning. It didn’t bode well, so we hibernated at the restaurant (breakfast/reading/packing up) until 11.30 am, when the worst of the storm had passed us by. Then we headed west again, this time bombing down the 103 until we got past Port Joli (where we’d headed into the park the day before). Then we turned towards the coast and followed the scenic route once again.
On a whim, we drove into the town of Liverpool – lured by a sign on the highway that promised an Outhouse Museum. I’m a great fan of eccentric museums, and this seemed like just the spot to check out on a potentially rainy afternoon. The Rossignol Cultural Centre turned out to be an odd place, housing several small museum collections and galleries under one roof. We got natural history collections, guiding/hunting/trapping collections, a Mongolian collection, a stately panelled room purchased wholesale from an auctioneer in England, and a replica of Maud Lewis’s house. Oh, and the outhouses, of course – not only full-size examples, but a collection of outhouse-themed memorabilia as well. It was wonderfully bizarre, and we passed a head-scratching hour or two. Well worth the $5 admission fee!
Back on the road that afternoon, we headed for our most westerly stop on the trip: Birchtown. It was once home to the largest settlement of black Loyalists(American colonists who did not support the Revolutionary War with Britain) in North America. At its peak (in the 1780s) it was apparently the largest community of free black people in the world, outside of Africa. Nowadays there is a cultural centre on the site of the original settlement, which relays some of the history of the place itself and the bad deal that the black Loyalists received at the hands of the British. Instead of the promised grants of arable land for each man and woman, the people were dumped at Birchtown, which had poor soil for farming and where almost no ownership of land was ever granted. Onsite are reconstructions of the “pit houses” where the original settlers would have lived for the first few years (basically holes dug in the ground, with log roofs). We also visited the burial ground and church used by the community through the 19th century. A very interesting and historic spot, which not enough people know about.
From Birchtown, it was just a few minutes’ drive east before we reached the town of Shelburne, our stopping place for that evening. I knew a few things about Shelburne’s remarkable history, but had never visited. Its heyday was over two centuries ago – it was first settled in the 1780s by a group of 3,000 (mainly white) Loyalists , and within a couple of years further Loyalist settlement meant the population of the town had swelled to 10,000 - making it the fourth-largest settlement in North America at that point. But its excellent harbour and convenient location for ships sailing up the Eastern seaboard couldn’t make up for the lack of arable land in the area (a problem also experienced by the black Loyalists in nearby Birchtown), and when the local authorities stopped providing provisions to the townspeople in 1787, the Loyalists began moving on to Upper Canada and England. By the 1820s, the population had dwindled to just 300 or so.
Arriving in Shelburne late that afternoon, we went straight to the historic centre – a small area one block wide and about 6-7 short blocks long, peppered with beautiful Georgian buildings constructed by the Loyalists during the boom years of the 1780s. First, we hit the Ross-Thomson House and Store – a well-preserved example of a late eighteenth-century store, with a Georgian house attached that served as home to the Loyalist storeowners, the Ross brothers. Afterwards, we picked up a map and guide to the historic district, and toured around the little “lanes” running between Dock Street on the waterfront and Water Street (the main street of the town). These streets retain some of their eighteenth-century character and are little more than a single lane wide.
I took lots of pictures, and the architecture was wonderful – but the town still had an odd, almost creepy character to it. Even on a sunny summer evening, it was so quiet – it felt like a ghost town. It also felt like a film set – which, in fact, it once was. Most famously, in 1994 the movie “The Scarlet Letter” starring Demi Moore, Gary Oldman and Robert Duvall (based on the novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne) was filmed in the historic district of Shelburne. Two structures built as sets were left standing, and can still be seen today. I suspect that the filming of that movie was one of the last major economic boosts that the town received, however - there’s not much industry left in the area, and nowadays, it’s so remote. I’m glad we visited though, as it’s definitely a special place.
After a comfortable overnight at the B&B, we were dispatched with a hearty breakfast, then hit the highway back to Halifax. En route, we stopped at Ross Farm in New Ross – again, a place I’d never visited before (though it’s less than an hour’s drive from the city). It serves as a living agricultural museum for the province and made for a pleasant enough stop for the afternoon. Fun to check out all the different farm animals, and we took a ride around the farm in a wagon pulled by two lovely big working horses.
Only three days away, but it felt longer. Had some fun, saw lots of interesting new things, and ate some great food. What more could be asked for?
I almost forgot! (Sorry, Blogger.) Our kitchen reno is all finished!
Since my last update, several more finishing touches were applied. In September, we decided against the glass mosaic tile I picked out last summer, after the supplier refused to do a custom blend for us (too small a job, apparently). Which is fine, except that they took three months to make that decision and communicate it to us - argh. So I chose another, similar, mosaic pattern, with 1"x1" glass squares in greens, whites, greys and light browns. As it turned out, this is an almost-perfect match for our quartz countertops, so I'm very pleased with the end result. By October, we had a tiler come in to do the work of installing our tile backsplash. Unfortunately, we hadn't done a very good job of measuring, so he got about 90% of the work done before running out of tile! We had more delivered a few weeks later, but by then he'd moved on to other work...and it was mid-February before he returned!! Tradespeople - what can you do?
But with that job completed, we can truly say that the Great Kitchen Renovation is finished. It took nearly 14 months from start to end, but we are so happy with the end result!
My kitchen reno photo diary on Flickr has been updated and is now complete, and can be viewed here (latest pics on the second page).
We adopted Fawn, along with her mother, Ginger, from the Dublin SPCA in May 2001. She was one of four kits in the litter; her other three siblings were all red, just like Ginger, but Fawn was "agouti"-coloured, like all European wild rabbits (greyish-brown on the fur's surface, sooty black beneath). The photo below shows Fawn (on the right) with one of her siblings, at the DSPCA - aged about five weeks, in May 2001.
She was the smallest of the litter, but made up for it with a sometimes bullish temperament; as a youngster she would often "box" with us, retreating to a corner, getting up on her back legs and swatting with her front paws when we tried to pick her up against her will. She was very active and curious, always getting into scrapes. When she was a year old, her hijinks resulted in the dislocation of her hip, which fortunately healed (though as we discovered later, it left long-term damage).
When we left Dublin in 2004, Fawn made the journey with us back to Halifax - even though it meant thirty days in quarantine (at my in-laws' home) before her import papers could be stamped by Canada Customs!
Many domestic rabbits live for a period of 8-10 years (sometimes more) and certainly in the last year or two, we noticed that she began to slow down. But fortunately for her, as the years advanced and she became elderly, she remained healthy. It was only this past July that we noticed she had developed a limp in her left hind leg. When the limp had not resolved itself after a few weeks, A. took an x-ray which confirmed his suspicions. The hip joint was badly degraded, and Fawn was suffering from arthritis - brought on almost certainly by the dislocated hip she'd suffered in her youth.
As the months passed, her mobility became more and more impaired, to the point that by November, she was unable to use either of her back legs. It was very difficult to watch her struggle. Over the past week, however, it became clear that she was experiencing pain. We knew it was time to do the kind thing, and put her to sleep. Earlier this evening, we said our goodbyes to Fawn, then stayed with her as she was sedated. Finally, A. administered an injection that stopped her heart. Her passing was quiet and peaceful.
Fawn was a wonderful, much-loved pet - the longest-lived of any of our rabbits. We will miss her very much.
A few weeks ago, when I found out that Blondie were coming to town to play two shows at Casino Nova Scotia, I decided to check it out. Sure, they're well past their heyday, but with such a wealth of brilliant, classic songs, it seemed like a show not to be missed.
It didn't disappoint. We checked out the show last night at the Casino's Schooner Room (my first time in that venue, which seats 1,000 and is quite pleasant). The set was a shortish one, being just shy of 90 minutes. But the performances were solid and they cranked out lots of classics - "Call Me", "Hanging on the Telephone", "Maria", "The Tide is High", "Atomic", "Rapture", "Heart of Glass", "(I'm Always Touched by Your) Presence Dear", "One Way or Another". Granted, Deborah Harry's voice isn't quite what it used to be, but at 64 (!!) that's to be expected. She looked fabulous in a tight, sequinedfuschia dress with matching eyemask (it being Halloween night and all). And I nearly snagged the mask as a souvenir at the end of the night! Debbie tossed it into the crowd as they left the stage, and both me and another girl grabbed it. That person wouldn't let go, so I told her we'd play Paper, Stone, Scissors for it. She won...bugger. Ah well.
My only real complaint about the show had nothing to do with the band - but rather, with the lethargic audience. Most of the people in the crowd sat on their arses the entire time! Which I could understand if the place was mainly full of old folk, but it wasn't. I ended up leaving my seat and heading down to the front after the first couple of songs, to dance with the rest of the people with pulses - which was a lot of fun, and livened up the mood considerably.
It also allowed me shoot a couple of surreptitious videos. Herewith a clip from "The Tide is High":
For their three-song encore, I was surprised to find that the band performed two covers. The first was a tongue-in-chic, very Blondified version of "My Heart Will Go On" (yes, the Celine Dion song...hehe). The final number was a tribute to Michael Jackson - "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough"! A very cool end to a very fun show. Here's a clip:
Ah yes, the kitchen reno. To the casual observer, not much has happened since we started being able to use the new kitchen back in March. As you can imagine, after so many months of hard work and disorder, we felt like taking a bit of a break from kitchen stuff, and just enjoy the new space. In the interim, though, we got on with lots of other jobs that needed doing - painting the front hall, getting some guys in to paint the aluminum siding outside, and having our driveway paved (three years after it was first torn up!).
Still, since my last update, we've done lots of little jobs in the kitchen that needed finishing up - like installing a new pendant fixture in the dining room (to match the ones in the kitchen) and the last of the cabinet hardware (which was backordered and took three months to arrive). The door and window frames (some of which were removed and altered during the reno work) were re-installed and painted. But a couple big jobs got finished too:
Paint: Argh. What a palaver. Over the winter, before the cabinetmakers came in, I painted the empty shell of the kitchen in "The Thames" by CIL - a pale green I thought I'd love. It turned out to be too minty, however. So the search began for a suitably neutral sagey-greeny-grey colour. Six test pots later, I finally found a winner - "Blue Gray" by Farrow & Ball. Despite the name, it's much more greenish than bluish! And it's very soft, as well. I was worried that grey paint might look too cold, but this one is anything but. And it goes fantastically well with our countertops, too.
We used the same colour in both kitchen and dining room. Originally, I had planned to leave the dining room with its original yellow paint, which I really liked. But as our kitchen designer/neighbour advised us months ago, once the renovation work was done we could see that with our new open-plan design, the kitchen and dining room would really look best if they were painted the same colour. Luckily, I think the "Blue Gray" looks nice in there too:
Crown moulding for the dining room: another case in which we should have listened to our kitchen designer/neighbour. When planning the work for our cabinetmaker, she suggested that we replace the existing crown moulding in our dining room with something that would match what was being installed in the kitchen. I poo-poohed the suggestion, however, as I thought the existing moulding was perfectly nice, and at that stage I was determined to keep unnecessary costs to a minimum. So the cabinetmakers went ahead, installed new moulding in the kitchen only, and made the transition between the two rooms as neat as possible. Once the job was done, however, I could see that our designer was right, and that since the space was now essentially one big room, it would look much better if everything matched. So in April, the cabinetmakers came back to take out the old crown moulding from the dining room, and install the new one. It makes for a much neater, cleaner finish - no doubt about it. The moral of the story? When you've put so much time, effort and money into a big job like this, you shouldn't cheap out on the finishing touches.
So those were the biggest accomplishments of recent months. Still several big things left to do, though:
Backsplash Tiling: ARGH. OK, granted, the delay on this is my fault as midway through the reno, I changed my mind about the kind of tile I wanted. But by mid-April, I'd decided on a variation of this glass tile design, from Olympia Tile:
I asked Olympia to customize this standard pattern, replacing the blue tiles with a mid/dark green. Along with the greenish-white, grey and brown colours in the pattern, it looks as though it would be a perfect complement to my quartz countertop (which has all those same colours in it). I also love the mini-brick shape (the individual tiles are 1"x2"). Being a custom order, however, we of course wanted to have a sample made, before making a final decision. Placed that sample order at the end of April...waited...and by the end of July and much hassling of our designer to find out what the hell was going on, Olympia admitted that they'd lost the sample order. (Why it took three months to find this out is another matter altogether.) So - currently, I am awaiting my sample, and hoping very much that it will arrive in the next week or two.
Floors: When we had the kitchen floors refinished in March, we planned to have the guys come back later and give the dining room a light buff and re-coat, as it's got a few scratches. We'd hoped they'd be able to do that this month, but (surprise) there have been delays, and they will come sometime in September now. In the meantime, my buffet and hutch (and everything in it) have been moved into the spare bedroom, in preparation.
Heating: back in June, we ordered new radiators - European-style, thin ones from Runtal. Given the tight space at the end of the kitchen (and the need to be sure that we had enough clearance to open the door of our lower oven) we couldn't go with standard radiators. However, the good thing about a custom order, of course, is that you can get exactly what you want. The three new rads arrived last week - one will go in the entryway, one under the far window in the kitchen, and one in the bathroom next door (as the baseboard heater in there has never done a good job of heating the room - it's freezing on winter mornings). So a call will be put in to the plumber shortly, to get them hooked up - and voila! We will have heat this winter!
So, that's where we are at the moment. Next time I update this reno diary, I hope I'll have pics of my new tile backsplash to post!
Last time we visited, we focused mainly on the central part of the Island. I had very much wanted to see some of the eastern side, and in particular, to stay at the Inn at Bay Fortune as I'd heard good things about it. But you can't do everything all at once, of course, so we resolved to go back another time. It took us four years, but we finally made it! We booked a two-night package at the Inn, and headed over this past Saturday morning, catching the 10.30 am ferry from Pictou County to Wood Islands.
From there, it's an easy drive to get to wherever you want, as PEI is so small (you could drive the island end-to-end in less than four hours). As with our last trip, we had wonderful weather, and I was struck once again by how pretty and tidy the province is - Islanders take so much pride in their properties. On Saturday morning, we did a meandering coastal drive around the southeastern end of the province, stopping at the Panmure Island lighthouse, before pressing on for the Inn at Bay Fortune. It was really hot by mid-afternoon, and we wanted to get to the beach ASAP.
After checking in to our small (but still comfortable) room in the South Tower, we got changed and headed for Bay Fortune's back beach, just down the road from the Inn. It was a lovely spot, with a long stretch of red sand scattered with seashells. Hardly anyone on it, either, which surprised me (on a Saturday afternoon, you'd think it would be full of kids - but then Islanders are spoilt for choice when it comes to excellent beaches). Spent a lovely couple of hours paddling in the water, strolling, and crashed out on deck chairs with a book, before heading back to the Inn to get changed for dinner.
The package we'd booked at the Inn included dinner on both nights, as the place is famed for its cuisine (and rightfully so). On the first night we had a great three-course meal - I had scallops, followed by veal, and a "reimagined" (!) fruit salad for dessert. The dining room (which is located in the glassed-in veranda of the Inn) is open to residents and non-residents, and was pretty packed that evening. Afterwards, we lay out on the big Muskoka chairs on the front lawn, looking up at the incredibly bright stars (not much light pollution on PEI!). Not only was the Milky Way very clear, but we even caught the tail end of the Perseid meteor shower. I saw four shooting stars in the space of about ten minutes - but then we high-tailed it back inside as the mosquitoes were fierce!
On Sunday, we had a lovely breakfast (lots of fruit, yogurt, yummy homemade muffins, and PEI blue-potato pancakes with poached eggs and spinach), then picked up the picnic lunch we'd ordered from the inn's kitchen before setting off for the beautiful white-sand beach at Basin Head. It's one of the nicest and most famous beaches on the Island, and is known for the curious natural phenomenon of "singing sands". As we discovered, the sand squeaks when you walk across it. We got there before noon, but the main beach was already busy with families, and plenty of teenagers. Luckily, a five-minute walk up the beach took us far away from all that, to a deserted stretch where there were few other people. The perfect spot to set up our chairs and just relax - though the sun was fierce and I was wishing we had one of those big umbrellas! Luckily the water was fairly bracing, so it was easy to cool off by taking a quick dip. We spent the remainder of the afternoon strolling along the water's edge, swimming, and reading, in between bouts of applying sunscreen (though I still managed to get a bit of a burn on my back!).
By 4pm a few clouds had rolled in, so it seemed like a good time to pack up and head off. On the way back to the Inn, we took a detour north of the town of Souris and drove a couple of the waymarked Scenic Heritage Roads that have been designated throughout the province. These are all so pretty - unpaved, red-dirt roads in the middle of the countryside, often used as shortcuts in years gone by, and many are canopied by large trees. They all make for very peaceful drives.
Soon it was time to go back to the Inn, shower away all the sand and sunscreen, and dress for dinner. As it was our last night in PEI, we were booked to partake of the chef's five-course tasting menu in the restaurant. It didn't disappoint. We had a lamb broth with scallops to start, then a garden salad, followed by a lovely piece of swordfish. A scoop of grapefruit sorbet was followed by the main course - roulade of veal topped with salt-cured oysters in tempura, the same dish I'd chosen to eat the night before! Oh well, good thing it was delicious - I didn't mind eating it again. And for dessert, a glass of port and a very nice chocolate mousse. A fine meal - and surprisingly, I didn't walk away from the table in pain! The portions were just right.
Monday morning, after a final breakfast in the dining room, it was time for packing up and checking out. As we weren't planning to get the ferry back to NS until the afternoon, we decided to spend the morning visiting one of the local historic sites - the MacPhail Homestead in Uigg, not far from Charlottetown. I wasn't familiar with Sir Andrew MacPhail, but it turns out he was quite an accomplished physician, scholar, and man of letters in early 20th-century Canada. The house in which he was born, and later spent his summers with his children, is now a national historic site and open to the public. We had a little tour around (a rambling old place, and quite pretty), before taking a stroll around the grounds. The estate still comprises about 140 acres and is now home to an ecological forestry project. There are several waymarked trails through the woods, which made for nice walks.
Soon, it was time to head for Wood Islands and the afternoon ferry crossing back to Nova Scotia. Although we were away for only two nights, it felt longer - always a good thing. A fun and relaxing trip - the sort of thing we should all be doing more often!
After such a promising start in June, July has been a bit of a damp squib out in the garden. Most of the month, it rained - causing many of the flowers to droop, rot and break. Also, the lawn has suffered because of so much water, with the old bald patches under the big maple tree re-emerging.
Still, we have had some good displays (photos on Flickr). The stalwart daylilies are as robust as ever, and the deck planters are nice. I also got foxgloves to bloom, after three years of trying!
Poor lil' Panopticon-blog - you are very neglected these days, now that I spend most of my time posting to Facebook instead.
I forgot to note on here (for the handful of readers who do not see this via the blog import feature on Facebook) that my holiday photos from England and Ireland are now posted over here on Flickr.
On Friday morning (22 May), we were up early and practically rolled out of our beds into the famous Bermondsey Antiques Market - located just over the road from our flat. It's an outdoor market, and luckily it was a lovely morning, perfect for strolling the stalls. It's very popular with antique sellers themselves, who get there before dawn to snap up the best stuff for their own inventories. Given that, I thought it might be a bit overwhelming, but in fact it was very unpretentious, not too large, and with a cool variety of stuff on offer. I even picked up a little something for myself - this very pretty framed papercut, ca. 1830 or thereabouts. It's on display in my living room now, and I get a kick out of imagining the lady of leisure who whiled away the hours snipping at this, with a pair of tiny scissors:
Later that morning, it was time for another London Walk. We got the Tube to South Kensington, where we met a wonderful guide who took us around "The Wonders of the V&A". The Victoria & Albert Museum is my favourite museum, and has the finest decorative arts collection in the world. I've visited many times in the past, but still haven't even seen half of the enormous collection. The great thing about this particular tour was that we spent two hours with our guide (a V&A lecturer, no less) who showed us about a dozen key objects, and discussed them in depth. None of them were things I'd seen before. Our visit also reminded me of how wonderful the building itself is. After the tour, we had lunch in the fabulous museum restaurant (partially designed by William Morris!), and afterwards bombed around the always-awesome fashion and costume gallery and a fab exhibition of hats curated by the milliner Stephen Jones. By that point, however, I was seriously flagging, so I left J. to explore the museum some more before I headed back to the flat and crashed for a few hours. I knew I'd need energy for the evening, as we had tickets to go see a show that night. We got the Tube to Brixton and walked over to the legendary Brixton Academy, where we saw...the Ting Tings. Hahaha! I was actually more excited about the venue than the band, but the Tings put on a pretty fun, high-energy show. And shockingly, we were not the oldest people in the audience - not by a long shot!
Saturday morning, I had a little lie-in, while J. went out for some last-minute shopping. We planned to meet at 11am for our final London Walk of the week, "Old Westminster". But I forgot the Jubilee line on the Underground was closed for engineering works that day, and so had to detour, arriving at the meeting point just in time. J. didn't make it, though, and so we had a frantic flurry of text messages before she arrived at the station in a cab and we hurried to catch up with our tour group. Luckily, we didn't miss much - we had a great two hours strolling the streets of Westminster, looking at the Houses of Parliament, the Jewel Tower, and the Abbey. Then we ducked into some of the back streets, visiting enclaves like Smith Square to see where many of the MPs live while Parliament is sitting. Not only were the rows of Georgian terraced houses beautiful in themselves, but their facades carried fascinating echoes of the past - from 18th-century street signage, to faded public notices dating from the Second World War. Off Smith Square, our guide pointed out this notice, which reads "Public Shelters in Vaults Under Pavements in This Street". It showed passersby where to go if an air-raid siren went off and a bombing raid was imminent:
After our walk finished, we hightailed it back to Westminster Abbey, which was closing to visitors at 1.30 pm. Luckily, we just made it inside - there was quite the queue, and we waited about a half-hour to gain entry (and paid £15! It used to only be a fiver...still, the place needs money to keep it going, so we didn't mind paying up). It was my second time visiting the Abbey, but it's a place no one could ever get tired of - so much to see, and so evocative. The royal tombs, the stonework, the wood carvings, the windows, the layer on layer of the most incredible history. And to top it all off, while we were there the choir began to rehearse, sending shivers down the spine.
Afterwards, we got some lunch and walked to Victoria Embankment, where we sat in the garden for a bit and ate, before heading home. The busy pace of sightseeing was starting to catch up with us and we were feeling pretty zonked, so we took a few hours of R&R back at the flat, and did some packing as well.
Then at 7, we headed out to meet friends for dinner in the East End, on our last night in London. We decided to walk, and spent an hour strolling over Tower Bridge (on a beautiful, warm, sunny evening no less), up the Hill past the Tower of London itself, to Aldgate. From there we went up Whitechapel High Street, past beautiful Spitalfields Church, Spitalfields market, and the Ten Bells (a Victorian-era pub known to have been frequented by several of Jack the Ripper's victims). We were bound for a curry house at the north end of Brick Lane. Once home to London's Jews and the Hugenots before that, nowadays Brick Lane is the heart of the Bangladeshi community and the street is lined with curry houses, all of which have (sometimes very pushy) touts out front trying to lure you in. So we came in from the western side, to avoid all that, and met up with my friends C., P. and baby J., as well as some other folks who we holidayed with in Venezuela two years ago. C. had taken me to eat at this particular restaurant, Aladin, last time I was in London, and I loved it. Fabulous food, great service, and you can BYOB which is another plus! We ordered a ridiculous amount of food (which cost almost nothing) and wolfed it all down. It was a great evening, which ended with a stroll back to Liverpool Street with C., P. and baby, and we all caught a night bus back to Southwark!
Next morning, J. (without a watch to hand) was awake at 5 am and got herself packed up and ready to go. Since she was already up, she decided to go attend the 8.30 am service at St. Paul's Cathedral, so we said our farewells, and she went on her way for the day. Later that afternoon, she got a flight from Heathrow to Barcelona, where she continued her trip with a few days of sightseeing and then a conference for her work.
I, on the other hand, had a flight to Dublin to catch. I packed up and checked out of our lovely flat, and was then picked up by the executive coach at 9am. It took two hours to get to Gatwick, as the driver had a couple other pickups in the West End - good thing it was a Sunday and there were no roadworks or traffic. In the end, it didn't matter too much, as my flight was delayed by two hours because of an electricity failure on the luggage carousel (airline staff were taking all the passengers' luggage away on trolleys!).
But by 4pm, I had arrived in Dublin. My friends (and former co-workers) E. and A. kindly picked me up at airport - great to see both of them again! The drive into the city was fascinating - building works have continued apace since I left five years ago, with all kinds of new developments everywhere. Ominously, though, some projects - including a second terminal for Dublin Airport - have ground to a halt due to the credit crunch.
I was even more surprised to arrive in E.'s neighbourhood, near the Grand Canal Docks in Dublin 3. It was an area that was only just beginning to be developed 10 years ago, but it's got lots of impressive offices and apartments now - some newly-built, and others converted from old industrial buildings. E.'s apartment complex includes an old gasworks, which has been converted into smart flats, to quite stunning effect:
On Monday, after breakfast, E. and I headed out so I could undertake an inspection tour of my old haunts. We got the DART from the new station at Grand Canal Docks to Tara Street, then connected to the LUAS (the new light rail service) in Abbey Street. The entire time I lived in Dublin, the lines for the LUAS were being constructed and causing all kinds of traffic disruption. Since I left the city just one month before the service started up in 2004, I was keen to go for a ride and check it out. I was pretty impressed - it's clean, efficient, and seems to work very smoothly. The consensus among Dubliners seems to be that it was well worth all the trouble. We took the Tallaght line across the southwest of the city, intending to get off somewhere along the Long Mile Road so we could walk down to my old digs, but I made the mistake of not looking at a map beforehand. We got off in Drimnagh, but I didn't recognise the neighbourhood at all, so we ended up calling a taxi - we got less than a mile down the road before I figured out where we were! Haha. The cab deposited us at Crumlin Cross and from there we walked down to the old apartment in Perrystown. When A. and I left Dublin, we'd joked that the neighbourhood was going to the dogs and we'd probably find a smoking hole in the ground where the building used to be - but not so! Actually, other than the gardens being a little overgrown, the development looked to be in pretty good shape.
Not wanting to haul ourselves back to the LUAS stop, we hopped the no. 150 bus back into town. The neighbourhoods we passed through are still largely the same, except for some smart new condos in the Liberties (which continues to be gentrified). We got off in the city centre, and E. and I did a little wandering in Kilkenny Design and some of my other favourite shops, before heading for Avoca, where we had arranged to have lunch with our old boss and another work colleague. Lovely to see them - and the lunch was fabulous, as always! Manoman, I love the Avoca cafe. To start, E. and I shared an order of chunky chips, cooked in duck fat and served with horseradish mayo (!!!!!!!!!). Then I had my usual order of yummy soup, served with three chunks of my fave Avoca breads (wholemeal, fruit & seed, and cheese soda). The crowning glory of any Avoca cafe visit is always the pudding, though. I had a slab of lemon curd cake with cream - delish.
After lunch, I did a little pre-emptive Christmas shopping on the lower floors of Avoca, then did some more strolling and shopping in Grafton Street, picking up various gifties. Before we knew it, the afternoon had slipped away, and it was time to head for A.'s house in the Liberties. She lives in a cottage on one of the squares built by Guinness for its brewery workers in years past. A couple years ago, she had the place completely gutted and renovated into a very smart open-plan studio, which ended up being featured in an Irish design mag. She and E. cooked up a fab dinner and we spent another very fun evening drinking wine and chatting.
I made sure to turn in relatively early, though - as it was the last day of my trip. The following morning I was picked up by a taxi at 4am, and whisked to the airport to catch my flight to Gatwick and connection back to Halifax later that morning. I wished I'd spent another couple days in Dublin, but it was nice to get in a quick visit with my friends, and check out my old stomping grounds. All round, it was a great trip - some fantastic sights, good friends, food, and shopping. I will never stay away from Europe for so long again!
Finally! We've had our driveway repaved - the last of the jobs remaining to be done from the re-landscaping of our property. The driveway was torn up two years ago, when we had structural work done on our shed. It's been a mess of patchy, broken asphalt and gravel ever since.
Here's the driveway (bisected by retaining walls and a new brick path) just before the work started:
Here's how it looks now (photographed while the asphalt was still steaming hot!)
Very good, when guests come over, to have parking for 3-4 cars again (since our street has almost no visitor parking). And it'll be a hell of a lot easier to clear snow now, in the winter. Plus, it just makes everything look nicer. Except the door to the shed - boy, does it look shabby now in comparison. I'll be putting the scraping and repainting of that on my To Do list - it never ends, when you're a homeowner!
June's garden pics are now posted hereat Flickr. I think June is possibly my favourite month in the garden. I get lilacs, lilies of the valley, and lupins - what more could you ask for?
On Wednesday morning (20 May), I went back to Bloomsbury to meet my other doctoral supervisor, P.T., at the Institute of Historical Research, where she works now. While J. struck out for Covent Garden and some shopping, I had coffee and a chat with P.T., who is now a senior, very highly-regarded professor at the University of London. She told me a bit about her current research on unwed motherhood in the early 20th century, for which she is delving into the archives of a British NGO representing the interests of single mums, but which had its historical foundation as a charitable society for so-called "girls in trouble".
On my way back to the Tube station, I was tickled to be approached in Russell Square by a pair of Japanese tourists, who asked me for directions to the British Museum (which of course I happily gave). Then I went to meet J., took a spin around Covent Garden, and had lunch before heading to Sloane Square for another fab London Walk. This one was through Chelsea - formerly an artists' haunt, now characterised by exclusive, gazillion-pound properties (I believe our guide said the average property price in the area is around £2m). We walked all sorts of little back streets, filled with exquisite homes marked with more Blue Plaques (designating that a significant person had once lived there) than you could shake a stick at. We also bypassed both the Chelsea Physic Garden (ca. 1673) and the Royal Hospital (ca. 1682 and designed by Christopher Wren), where we beheld the queues for the Flower Show being held on its grounds that week. When we saw the big banner indicating that the show was sold out, we felt all pleased with ourselves for having booked tickets months before. There was even a tout outside the gate, flogging show tickets and asking if anyone had tickets to sell! As J. remarked, only in England could this happen for a flower show, of all things!
We had another busy evening planned, so we zoomed back to our flat for a quick pitstop, before heading to Waterloo station and London Studios on the South Bank, where Graham Norton awaited us! We got to the studio and joined the queue about an hour beforehand, and as it turned out, just in the nick of time. We were among the final group admitted, and were seated in the very back row - there were probably at least 100 disappointed people behind us!
Still, we made it. It was pretty neat to see what goes on behind the scenes, when making a show like that. After Graham came out to chat with us before the taping began, we found out that the guests were the actress Isabella Rossellini and Alistair McGowan (a well-known mimic in the UK). Surreptitiously-snapped photo (pics were verboten on set) here!
Rossellini talked quite a lot about her latest "artistic" project, Green Porno (!), in which she directed and starred in a series of short films about the reproductive lives of animals. Seriously. J. thought it must surely be a joke, but it is not!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6s2HfSHHsQ
You can watch the rest of them, should you be so inclined, on the Sundance Channel or YouTube!
The evening's musical guest was, of all people, the rather loopy actress Juliette Lewis, whose performance was, uh, interesting (she's nowhere near the badass rawk chick she seems to think she is). Still in all, getting to see the show taping was a pretty cool experience - not as funny as some of the episodes I've seen, but still a lot of fun. Given the high culture of our previous evening at the Globe, we had unquestionably gone from the sublime to the ridiculous, in the space of 24 hours. ;-)
We decided to devote the following morning to some shopping in Oxford Street, as we didn't want to battle the weekend crowds. En route, we took a half-hour to visit the wonderful, medieval (and underappreciated) Southwark Cathedral, which is right across the road from London Bridge station and which we'd been walking past all week. Soon, however, we arrived at Oxford Circus, ground zero for all the big UK and European high-street chains. While J. attained fashion nirvana at Karen Millen, I headed for Bravissimo where I had a professional lingerie fitting. As I have been an aficionado of their catalogue for many years, I was rather shocked to discover I am not the size I thought I was! Eeps. So of course I had to buy some new things (haha) including that elusive item, the well-fitting bikini. I do wish they had an equivalent in North America. On that note, I also ended up in H&M (still waiting for one of those in Eastern Canada), where I bought a fantastic peacock-print wrap dress designed by Matthew Williamson. Later, I got another lovely 'origami' dress at Principles, at 70% off. Yah!
All in all, a profitable morning. We skipped home to dump our bags and get changed, then headed back to Piccadilly in the West End, and Browns Hotel. I had booked us in for afternoon tea that day - and what a meal it was. Unquestionably, the finest hotel afternoon tea I've ever had. Other top hotels in London should take note - originally, I'd hoped we could have tea at the legendary Palm Court at the Ritz, but trying to make a reservation there was ridiculous. Even as far back as February, the only times they could offer us were 11am or 7pm! Are they kidding? It's called afternoon tea, after all - obviously, they're just trying to get as many bodies as possible through the door, which is terrible.
At Browns, tea is served as it ought to be, between 3 and 6pm, in their elegant, classic, yet unpretentious English Tea Room.
They had an extensive tea selection (with an in-house "tea sommelier" on hand to advise) and the food was truly excellent - classic, with a few innovative flourishes. Given that we were there the week of the Chelsea Flower Show, we were served a floral-themed tea, which was delightful. The menu was:
Sandwiches (roast beef, smoked salmon, turkey, egg) Scones with rose and strawberry jam, and clotted cream Violet blueberry macaroons Orange-blossom cake Victoria sponge Strawberries and elderflower cream
Not only was the food wonderful, but the service was faultless. During our meal, we were offered more sarnies and scones if we wanted them (unusual, especially at a high-end hotel). And when the server came round partway through our meal to ask if we'd like our tea refreshed, I assumed he'd just give us more hot water. But no - he took away the pots and refilled them with fresh leaves. And at the end of our meal, we were even given little bags to take away, with samples of the particular tea we'd chosen that afternoon (I went with the Brown's Afternoon blend). So many thoughtful touches - I was extremely impressed. Just goes to show that when it comes to afternoon tea, it's really best to keep it simple, stick to the classics, and do them well. If it were up to me, staff at the Peninsula in Hong Kong would be sent there for training!
Well-stuffed with this fine repast, we gathered ourselves together and got ready to head off to our next stop - the Chelsea Flower Show itself. (While waiting for J. to return from the ladies, I watched an archetypal fat-cat Russian oligarch roll in for tea, accompanied by his modelesque girlfriend dressed head-to-toe in designer gear and carrying a massive status handbag. Pretty funny.)
We thought we'd walk to the Flower Show, so that we could cut through Green Park and so J. could have a gawp at Bucks Palace. But by the time we'd done that, it was getting late and we wanted to maximize our time, so we hopped into a black taxicab which deposited us near the entrance to the show. I was excited about attending, since it's such a big deal (and strangely, a major fixture on the British social calendar, as well). I had never attended before, as it's a bit expensive if you're not a member of the Royal Horticultural Society - we had evening tickets, for admittance between 5.30 and 8pm, and they were the cheapest at £18. It turned out to be quite the event! The site itself is absolutely enormous, and a bit overwhelming - you would probably need 1-2 days to see absolutely everything. So we concentrated on seeing the main exhibition hall (where all the prize specimens were on display, from growers around the British Isles), as well as the 'show gardens' which are designed by famous gardeners, by invitation.
I took pictures feverishly, until my camera battery died!
Of course, we saved time for shopping - probably half the show is taken up by vendors, selling every kind of garden-related paraphenalia you can think of. It was all simply gorgeous, and we were lucky also that the weather cooperated and it was mild and sunny. A fantastic day, all round - hard to imagine how it could have been better! ________________________________
Next: Bermondsey, Brixton, Brick Lane. And wonderful Westminster.
Four years ago, I made Roman blinds for both our living room and the French doors in the dining room. While I was really happy with how the dining room ones turned out, I thought the ones in the living room were just OK. They looked like this:
The central one is a little too wide to be practical - plus, they don't do much to keep out cold draughts during winter. So last year, I started thinking about hanging proper lined curtains there instead.
Over the winter, I bought some fabric I really liked, on sale. And then I decided to hire a professional to do the actual work. ;-) Not only would it take loads of time and patience for me to learn how to make lined curtains, but I had no physical space to do so over the past few months. So based on the recommendation of some friends, I got them made up at the local fabric store. It cost a lot less than I thought it would, and I think they look great!
On Monday (this would be 18 May), we took a day trip down to Brighton. Other than a one-day visit in 2000 to attend a ceremony for my graduation from the University of Sussex, I hadn't been back for nearly 11 years - and J. had last visited me there in 1997. The drive down was lovely and it was wonderful to see the South Downs coming into view as we drove towards the coast.
On arrival, in need of sustenance, we headed for the Mock Turtle, a landmark teahouse just off the seafront of which I have fond, fond memories from my student days. We were gutted, however, to find that it is closed on Mondays! Argh! And I had so been looking forward to some hot buttered toast, a morsel of cake, and a lovely cuppa, served on their wonderful collection of faded, chipped, mismatched china. Ah well. We had to make do with coffee in Bartholomew Square instead, before setting off for an hour's wander around the wonderful Lanes. They are unchanged (except for many of the shops, of course) and as atmospheric as ever. I was impressed with the whole town, actually - it's smartened up a good bit over the past decade, while keeping its distinctive, rather hippyish and bohemian air.
While J. contented herself with lunch at the Hotel du Vin, I hopped on the no. 25 bus (just for old time's sake) and headed out to the Sussex university campus in Falmer village, about 20 minutes away. I walked up to the far end of campus, to the Brighthelm residences where I lived for the first few months after I arrived in England in the autumn of 1995. I headed straight up the hill behind the house where I lived, but was surprised to see that the hillside was under cultivation and there were wire fences everywhere. Eventually I found a way through and was able to climb to the top of the hill, and look down at the wonderful view across the campus and away over the South Downs. I will never forget waking up my first morning there, and looking out my bedroom window at that view. The "green and pleasant land", indeed.
After I took a bunch of pictures, I headed for the Arts block and went to the office of one of my old supervisors, C.D. It was lovely catching up with her again - she's a great person and quite inspirational in many ways. She showed me the manuscript she has just submitted for a fabulous-looking book on the social history of glamour! I can't wait to read that - hell, I wish I was the one who'd written it!
After our lunch, I got the bus back into town, then walked up North Street and Western Road, popping into the shops and noticing all the changes that have taken place over the past decade. Eventually I turned right and walked up to York Avenue, and the house where I lived during most of 1998. I knew that the former owners had sold up and moved on a few years ago; as a result, the place has really changed, and sadly not for the better. The beautiful garden at the back of the house, which my studio overlooked and which the owners kept so meticulously, has been torn up and gravelled over to create tenant parking spaces. And the whole house had a whiff of neglect about it, which was sad. Feeling a bit melancholy, I went two blocks further along the road to Brunswick Place, and checked out no. 66, where I lived during 1996-97 - unlike York Avenue, it is still much the same as I remember it and retains an air of genteel shabbiness. ;-)
By then it was time to catch up with J. again, so I headed back to The Lanes and a "bar duchocolat" called Choccywoccydoodah. Silly name, oh-so-serious gourmet chocolatier. We rolled out the boat and ordered the "Decadent Chocolate Lovers' Banquet" which was so, so delicious...ooh. By rights, we should have walked back to London that evening, just to burn off the calories!
It was so nice to see Brighton again, though it also felt a little strange. My years there seem like they were a whole lifetime ago, and so much has changed. (Weirdly, over the past year I've had several vivid dreams about re-visiting the town and going to see the places where I used to live - only to find that, instead of the familiar streets I remembered, the area was all open fields. Very odd.) At the same time though, by the end of the day, I was definitely getting my bearings again, and remembering why it's such a popular and attractive place to live. I'd like to visit again sometime!
The following day, Tuesday, was the first full day in London together for J. and I. In the morning, we stayed in the neighbourhood and visited the Old Operating Theatre, about a ten-minute walk from our flat. With J. being a doctor and my interest in medical history, it made for a very interesting visit. The theatre is located away up under the rafters of what used to be the women's wards of St. Thomas' Hospital, and dates from the early nineteenth century. This was the pre-anaesthetic era, when medical students would have crowded in to watch as surgeons dosed some poor soul with alcohol or opiates, before commencing surgery. It's remarkable that it survived at all.
Afterwards, we hit the local Sainsbury's for some groceries (so nice to have our own kitchen!) before heading for Holborn tube station and the first of several wonderful London Walks we took during the week. This particular walk was "Literary Bloomsbury and the Old Museum Quarter" and it was excellent, taking us to see sights we'd never have found on our own. I love Bloomsbury, especially its wonderful squares (Red Lion, Russell, Gordon). It doesn't require much of an imaginative leap to picture Virginia Woolf, TS Eliot, and Ted and Sylvia living there...not to mention great artists like Rossetti, Morris and Burne-Jones, among others. We finished the walk with a stroll past Senate House at the University of London (inspiration for the Ministry of Truth in Orwell's 1984!) and then the forecourt of the British Museum - both places I know so well and spent a great deal of time in, as a student.
But the day was not over yet! We raced home to our apartment, made some supper, then headed out again, walking along the riverside to the Globe Theatre, about a mile away from our flat. I had never been, but after learning about it on my last trip to London and being intrigued, I suggested to J. that we give it a go, and got tickets for a performance of "Romeo & Juliet". I knew the Globe was a pretty faithful reconstruction of a theatre that had stood on the site in Shakespeare's day, but thought that it might be a bit twee and touristy. I was very happy to be wrong about that! I knew from the moment we entered that it would be something very special - members of the cast were on stage as the audience filed in, in costume, playing music and generally clowning around.
And once the performance started - well, it was unlike anything I've ever seen before. The atmosphere was magical, and the production itself very, uh, earthy (hehe...Shakespeare really did write for the common folk). We really got a sense of what it must have been like, to see these plays performed as Shakespeare himself would probably have intended. Truly, a fantastic evening! ______________________________________
In the next installment, flowers, fairies, shopping and sipping (tea, that is).
