Note to Self

It is generally not advisable to launder black trousers in a washing machine with another clothing item in which is concealed a Tube map...

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Poodled on over to London on Friday for the celebratory event of Helene's birthday at the Woolpack. Had absol. amazing weekend of walking and walking through gorgeous weather that it was (and visiting impressive number of pubs along Dick Whittington's Ale Trails)! Eamonn niftily booked a flat through his company -- it is magnificent to wake up to the bells of St. Paul's and look out one's 14th floor window to see the dome on one side of flat and see Monument, Tower Bridge and the Gherkin from the kitchen window! Perhaps if am well-behaved, will be invited out in public again :)

There is a really excellent exhibit, Satirical London, at the Museum of London, which got the weekend off to a cultured start. This after a nice lunch in Smithfield Park (where there was a surprising lack of seagull interference... in fact, NONE!). Then walked to St. Paul's via the newly completed Paternoster Square, which is named after a central route that medieval monks of St. Paul's would follow whilst chanting the Lord's Prayer. It is a more than acceptable modern addition in keeping with the Wren architecture which it complements. There are some interestingly chic little cafes to try.

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Saturday: wisely had gotten healthful amount of sleep and so were up and walking by 10am. Route past Monument; past new memorial to the Siege of Malta during WWII (I had no idea that Malta was so important or that it was the most bombed place in the entire history of war); past Tower (through masses of tourist sheep); small detour through St. Katharine's Docks so I could check on my yacht; across Tower Bridge (through masses of tourist sheep meandering without a purpose -- 'There is strolling... and then there is going backwards!'). Got sandwich from Butler's Wharf courtyard (right around corner from Helene's) and ate lunch on boardwalk, before heading to Southwark Cathedral, Bermondsey Market (OMG! such a superb market) and Southwark Pub (where there are the nifty little debtor's cells to sit in); on to the shops attached to Vinopolis (am so pleased to have finally found Hendrick's Gin -- this is the most difficult item to find. There is a hysterical review of it that I read a few weeks ago when trying to expand my repertoire of descriptive and convincing arguments for the uninitiated -- but it seems to not be in the most popular list on Google any longer.); past The Globe; over Millenium Foot Bridge, past the Sports Relief 1-mile race (where we saw and photographed Colin Jackson, a native Cardiffian who, until last Wednesday, held the World Record of 60m Hurdles; there were thousands of people dressed up in everthing from fairy outfits to an entire wedding party!); down Fleet Street past Courts of Justice (the Old Bank of England was closed -- boo); past London Silver Vaults and to the Cittie of Yorke pub. Back to flat with purchases and headed to Covent Garden. Stopped in The Porcupine and then the Angel and Crown. Dinner with Helene at Henry's (not recommended for future reference). Then to Marquis of Granby (we see a theme here). Then back to flat for a weekend-cap with Helene.

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Sunday: out and about. Less walking. Well, maybe not. To Westminster; looped around back of the Abbey and then down Whitehall with intention of cutting through down St. George's Street by the Foreign Office to get to St. James's Park, when spotted military parade of some sort which we watched for a bit before getting back on track. To Victoria Station, back to Westminster along River to Tattershall Castle, a boat which was used to tether barrage balloons during WWII and which is now a lovely place to have a Pimm's (except that it was not quite as dressed with strawberries and cucumbers as would have been preferred). Then to Hyde Park to read the papers before embarking on return train, with the loudest group of four female personages who decided to invade our nice area of the Quiet Carriage armed with a bottle of champagne, a variety of handmade Belgian Truffles and shrill opinions on every minute detail of their weekend 'up in London', including a description of a 'lovely seafood salad at Planet Hollywood -- no, really! It is just lovely!' and the terror and proximity of weeping felt by one of them being stuck in a taxi and in danger of missing train (if that story was told once, it was told 57 times. 'I was NOT going to get on this train unless I knew you were on it!'). It would have been much less amusing but much more of an enjoyable trip had they, though.

After such a train journey, and a little Heineken to soothe our ears upon debarking, clever plans were put into action to create Mexican food. Which was done. Hiroko, Maurizio and Kath were suitably envious with impressive and undertaking, although I had to keep re-iterating that this was not real -- Old El Paso provisions (they ain't got no Pace here), while useful, are not entirely accurate. So, this was basically a British interpretation of an American interpretation of Mexican food. Judith is appalled that queso was not included. Although, made my first attempt at guacamole, of which am slightly proud -- it had too much garlic and lemon juice... I know, I know, limes are necessary, but... shall just have to try, try again.

My new project will be to try to grow avocado tree from seed. I have been smirked at.