We are currently in London, which seemed like a dream to my no-hours-of-sleep brain the day when we first arrived. I learned that I can't function properly without at least 2-3 hours of sleep the hard way. We then saw the London Eye; the first 10-20 minutes were great, then it slowly downgraded for the rest of the trip. But the view was amazing, at the top it was a panoramic view. I would highly recommend to go on it once, but not too many times. We went to Shrek's Adventure. I didn't enjoy it that much, the whole thing is not recommended. It was fun, yes, but also really boring, and for 2-5 year olds.
Today we went to the V&A, which was absolutely amazing, I loved seeing how many spoons there was in that place. We then went to the London Dungeon at 4; major jump scares, but it was still one of the most fun things yet. I have had such a fun time so far, and am slowly working my way up to a British accent, I hope I can get a full one on our journey back. Then, in Dublin, I'll work for a Irish accent. My friend does a great one, I love it. He goes like, "That there's my son! The leprechaun on the pot of gold there, riding the rainbow!" And, "Your a lepreCHAUN(lep-re-chon)!"
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Michael
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Betty
Yesterday we went to a Shrek tour. Today we went to the London dungeon. 1 person from each talked to me about my hair. The Shrek: a witch lady "Look at your magical hair that changes color!" London dungeon: Sweeney Tod "Look at that hair. It would make a nice wig! I'll pray for you." That was fun!!!
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Richard
Flew out at 5pm Calgary time. Landed 10am London time. Most didn't sleep, but we stayed up all day to fight jet lag. We went right to Shreks Adventure and london eye. Fish and chips at the london eye, i complained and got a second patty. Videos and photos at Big Ben. H98 to Hounslow West, on the Picadilly Line to South Kensington, transfer to the Circle Line, down to Westminster, and walked across the river to and from the fun.
Second day we woke up really late, everyone was messed up. We found a breakfast place further out of London. Go Local Cafe. "traditional breakfast". Nobody but Richard and Miranda ate the "beans" which really is white beans in tomato soup... The sausages were big , but not flavorful. The "fried break" to me just seems like extra buttery bread. Delicious. Skipped "Natural museum" because it was alrealdy 1pm, we went down to the V&A and Michael lost his mind loving it. Went to the "london dungeon" at 445, and then bought food along the road out at Hounseth wich was amazing food, ate in the hotel, and to sleep. Michael tried to apply
At the VA, there is a 1780s exhibit about balloons and the first travel by hot air baloon. The brothers that took the first air balloon trips had the last name.... gonfler, or something like that. "blow up" in french. That made me laugh. Montgolfier brothers. But I prefer to remember them as the gonfler brothers.
Growing up, a copy of our grandfather Doral Pilling's life story sat on the shelf. The distinctive blue cover with its gold lettering made it an easy find. I knew how to find the pages with the stories I wanted to hear again and again, mostly the stories about childhood pranks, or his time at the olympics.
All these years later, and a copy of that same book is also within easy reach in my own home, along with pieces of paper tucked in between various pages to mark out the stories I too would return to for sharing with my own kids.
Doral's life history is a goldmine. There is so much stuff in there that is wonderful. This year, Duncan was taking a course on autobiography, and I suggested that it might be fun to actually use Doral's life history to work with. He took it to his teacher to pre-vet it. The teacher agreed that it was an amazing document, but also said that in order for Duncan to really engage with it, the teacher would need to have access to the text itself. It is not that it needed to be 'published', but that it needed to be 'publically accessible.'
Somehow, because so many of us in the family had a copy of this book on the shelf, I often forget that it was not 'published' in the conventional sense, and it thus not easily accessible. Afterall, it is a 'book', right?! :-). And that makes it look kind of 'official'.
There are some small portions of it that are quickly accessible. For example, way back in 2012, when someone was writing up a little history of the LDS church in Calgary, Arta shared with them some pages from Doral's life history (and posted them to the family blog): http://larchhaven.blogspot.com/2012/09/doral-pilling-p-89-to-94.html. But that is only a few pages of the text.
Certainly, the content is publically accessible, since it in the result of a series of interviews done in 1975: Doral Pilling was interviewed by Charles Ursenbach as part of the Western Oral History Program, and the audiotapes (9 hours and 40 minutes) were deposited with the Alberta Provincial Archives. I realized I didn't really know much about this Oral History Program. A quick websearch took me to a page at BYU, which suggested maybe a context for this interview: https://reddcenter.byu.edu/pages/oral. Other might have a richer account of the backstory.
In any event, the preface to the book does say that the written history is based on that oral history, and that the transcript was "edited and revised by members of Doral Pilling's family under his direction."
I was curious about who those 'members' were. They are not named. My suspicion (and bias) is that it was Arta, and that she has simply stayed in the background, minimizing the work she had done. For sure, I have memories of seeing Arta (and Kelvin) set up one of those old tape to tape machines at the table, and of her turning the switch to stop and start again while she was typing things up at the same time on the old Underwood manual typewriter. Now I am curious if others of the aunts or uncles helped with transcription? Maybe. But it does make me smile a bit to see her/them documented for the purposes of history as "members of Doral's family" rather than having their actual names appear.
The process of photocopying also provides space for reflection. I remembered Arta pointing out in various documents that she could tell when they had been typed on Doral's typewriter because of the ways that specific keys were showing traces of wear and tear (or were a bit uneven in how they struck the paper). Looking at the book, I felt like I could indeed see the traces of keystrikes on the text from that old beast of a machine. It is that same heavy Underwood machine that Doral typed all his letters on, and that eventually made its way to our house on 26th ave. It is the same beast of a machine that I learned to type on, and the one on which i typed out so many of my university assignments. Is that a real memory?
Richard's copy also missing pages
Small side note, in making the copy, I realized that pages 26, 27 and 28 seem to be missing from my copy. I sent out a note to the other siblings to see if their copies of the book were different. Doral provided photographic confirmation that his copy was also missing those pages. And so, now there is a mystery!
Is this just an error made by Arta in page numbers? Or is there something particularly juicy in there? Something salacious? A map to hidden treasure? Does one of us need to head to the audiotapes to see if they are also missing something? If anyone has clues to the mystery, let us know!
ADDENDUM: November 25, 2025
Mystery solved!..... There IS no mystery! I went back to listen to the original tapes of Doral telling his story. It moves seamlessly from the bottom of p.25, to the top of p.29 (nothing salacious hidden in the gap)
November 5th, I got to spend a couple of hours with the Intellectual Property Institute of Canada (IPIC), who held a "Book Club" event, using our book "Indigenous Intellectual Property" as the point of conversation. They had a great set up. The four of us co-authors (Val, me, Deb, and Richard) were allowed 2 minutes each (what?! two minutes only?!) to give a brief summary of what we were hoping to do in each chapter. After that, they split us up into 4 breakout rooms (16 minutes each time), so we could circulate through the smaller groups in a more intimate way, chatting about the kinds of questions and thoughts folks had. I certainly came away from it with another whole host of questions. Amongst them, I started thinking about the need we have in this particular time to avoid providing "ANSWERS", and instead create space and time for more extended conversations with eachother about the "QUESTIONS" that come up, and the ordinary/mundane spaces in our life that might help us see how many "PATHWAYS FOR THINKING" are around us.
After the event was over, I found myself looking at the piles of stickers and sticker books that I have on the desk around me: decorative, functional, tracking, art.... I like stickers, and like attaching them to things.
Could I use the stickers to think about some of the Intellectual Property questions that had come up in the day's conversation? Why not? I wondered about a focus just on the stickers with images on them ... the ART stickers. One might start with the cluster of 'named' stickers: little gatherings of stickers by Picasso, da Vinci, Monet and Kahlo.
One might then start with the Frida Kahlo stickers. In the world of art stickerbooks, it is more difficult to find women artists, for all the reasons one might imagine. So, lets just celebrate that someone printed these (thanks Dover Publications). Inside cover tells us a bit more about Freida as an artist (ie tortured, married, communist, jewish mexican indian). There are any number of questions one might ask here about biography, identity, relationality, etc.
There are others, related to copyright or IP. The interior cover gives us some info. This is a "New work" (take a look at the bibliographical note). The copyright is held by Dover over this little book of stickers, NOT over the content of the book. And thus, the ISBN points us to 'the work' (the sticker book). And then what do we have as far as content? 16 stickers. Each one repeats Kahlo's last name, and gives us the title of the work. I don't get a date for the work, nor a more extended conversation, but name and title are clearly reproduced with each, so i do not have to remember a title after I peel the sticker off.
The back cover of "the work" gives us a bit more storytelling to contextualize the paintings. In addition to a bit about HER (on the inside cover), that back cover tells us a bit more about the art she produced, and how to experience it! This is work, we are told, is full of "anguish and passion"; it "smoulders!" We are also told (in case we didn't know) that she was once eclipsed by her more famous partner (is this part of what helps us engage with her work?). Or we can see that in purchasing the sticker book we are helping her achieve more widespread recognition? This then might be one of the purposes of the book itself (as a work of stickers): to engage with art, and see something of the works of Frida Kahlo. Her paintings, we are told, might add to a personal collection, or 'add instant interest' to letters or other flat surfaces. I do love that (thinking about ways to add interest to flat surfaces!)
The sticker book also contains some warnings: "not intended for children under 4." It is not clear to me if the warning (which is about INTENTION) is made to protect children (who might chew on or choke on the stickers?). Given that that book tells us that the paper and ink are acid free, I presume that a consumer of fine books such as these could probably eat the pages (literally) without digestive damage. And it seems to me that if it is about a choking hazard, people over 4 may be equally susceptible to getting a snack stuck in their windpipe on the way down. Or maybe the concern is with the content of the reproductions? Maybe there is just too much anquish and passion (and painterly nudity) in these reproductions, and children under 4 should be looking at different images? Hard to say. But certainly, as readers, we are told about the publisher's intentions regarding the use of these stickers.
I turned next to a different sticker book, one that did not foreground any specific artist, but instead turned to a collection of artists, or a style of art? This was "Inuit Art from Cape Dorset".
Some other more slippery questions occured to me here. First thing to note is that we have moved away from a single artist (Freida, Picasso, Monet, etc), to a style identified by a People: Inuit from Cape Dorset. It is also known as Kingait (or 'High Mountains').
The backcover again tells us a bit about the purpose of the book. This time it appears to target kids (a publication series explicitly named 'pomegranate kids'.
We have three main take aways (in tems of purpose): 1. learn and craft, 2. self expression (personalize your crafts or journals), and 3. enjoyment.
What, then, is there to learn? The inside cover starts the learning process, delivering a paragraph sized bite of info. We do get a map of north america with a dot to geolocate us. Note, there are no 'political borders' here, either to separate US/Canada, nor to indicate the relative size of Nunavut. I did wonder about the work done by phrases like "way up in Northern Canada", "little hamlet", "tradition", "harsh environment", "dependent on animals" (which tend to lean not precisely to terra nullius, but do paint a certain kind of picture).
Also, I found myself wondering why there was a decision to use the phrase "people known as Inuit" that than just saying "home to Inuit." Is that just a function of targetting young people? There is also not much history here. The paragraph suggests that in the 1960s the Inuit simply starting making art to share? [there is a larger story about dispossession that explains how and why people turned to art as a way to survive the damage produced to their economy, but that story is not part of this sticker book for kids]. And maybe that is not the best story to share in this context in any event (one might ask whether a celebration of the art and images is best situated alongside some of the damaging forces of colonial pressure, or rather along the vector of strengths, which have always been around adaptability, innovation and resilience?
But.... this is, afterall, just a brief moment of education in a book of stickers, so one might cut a bit of slack (while still generating some interesting questions). The intro does point us towards the beautiful prints that have been prized around the world!
One can then flip through the book to look at the images/stickers that are offered.
When I start thinking more about this book, it was clear that there were some distinct differences from, for example, the Freida Kahlo book. Primarily, there are no descriptive 'labels'. What we have a these interesting images of animals, but none have names, and none are attributed to any particular artists. So, are these just images produced by 'people known as Inuit', or are there actually specific artists involved? And in any case, how is a sticker lover to know what artists in particular interest them?
Were specific artists being invisibilized in this process? I flipped to the last page, thinking about this problem. The book DOES give some attribution. Here we have a list of 17 artists (both dead and alive). Better. But as readers, we have no mechanism (unless we are already 'in the know') to express an opinion about specific prints or specific artists.
And there is a further qualifier, which left me with another question. The text tells us that the stickers are derived from prints by a specifically listed number of Inuit artists. As a reader (sticker user?), it is not it clear what it is meant by "derived from". Does that mean just clipping an image out of the context of a larger print? Or taking inspiration from? Or altering? Or working in the style of?
Here, I found myself thinking of artist Michael Snow suing the Eaton's Centre when they tied christmas ribbons around the necks of the geese in his sculptural installation there. https://www.cipil.law.cam.ac.uk/virtual-museum/snow-v-eaton-centre-ltd-1982-70-cpr-2d-105. So I just don't really know what the story is in this case. But I remained curious about the ways that these stickers aren't identified in any ways that would help me know as a reader 1. which images were produced by which artists, or 2. the conditions under which those artists are or are not compensated for the 'reproduction' (derivation).
We are also told that the book is designed by Carey Hall. My assumption is that this is a way of acknowledging the work of the graphic designer, who would have done the design structure. But they will not have been the person who decided what went into the book itself, or they would hold the copyright.
The 'publication' info at the bottom of the page gives us a bit more info. There is a copyright notation to "Dorset Fine Arts." So in both the case of the Frieda Kahlo book, and this one, the copyright is held by a corporate person. I do find it interesting to think about copyright as held by a corporate entity, rather than by an individual. I wondered more about this company (presuming that they had taken care of those questions in the production of the book).
With this in mind, I went to look up Dorset Fine Arts, to get addtional context. Their webpage tell us that they were set up in Toronto in 1978, and are "the wholesale marketing division of the West Baffin Eskimo Co-operative." Fabulous! I love the history of the co-op form and its power in the North. And immediately, I found myself feeling just a bit less worried about the decisions made in the design of the book. So, here is a bit more of the story told by Dorset Fine Arts about themselves:
The Co-operative is in Kinngait (Cape Dorset), Nunavut and is unique among the Arctic Co-operatives for its focus on the arts and artists of the community. Dorset Fine Arts was established to develop and serve the market for Inuit fine art produced by the artist members of the Co-operative.
OK. Interesting! With this in mind, I returned to my questions about the title (which points to an area, rather than focusing on the work of a particular artist), as well as the decision to cluster a group of images without attributing to a specific artist. Rather than seeing this as a way of erasing artists, I could see how this book might do the work of curating an appetite for Inuit fine art from the co-op, without leaning into a culture of "auteurs" or a "star" focus. In this context, it seems a bit more like the artists are both sharing their names, but celebrating their work in a way that holds up the whole community. In this context, I feel less worried that the book undermines principles of 'authorship', and can see this decision as one that is supporting the idea of a collective of images and ways of seeing.
So once again, it seems that the decision to derive stickers from prints in this way enables Dorset Fine Arts to create the sticker book as "a work" with a different focus and goal, which is not simply to introduce someone to a particular artist, but rather to a community of artists, which then might lead to the decision to support the community by coming to appreciate the style in this broader way, which might lead to more economic support the the community of artists, or to valueing Inuit art more generally. While I initially wondered about/worried about this sticker book (that is, had the artists been consulted? was their work recognized? were they compensated in the reproduction of these images), my worries were allayed in thinking more about the artists as involved in those questions through their participation as members of the cooperative (which is was not visible to me until i looked behind the corporate form of the copyright holder). Again, those are presumptions. But I like being able to at least look at those sticker books to start asking questions about the images, their reproduction and transformation into different forms.
So, at the end of the day, what to say? I love stickers. I love being reminded that there are any number of questions that ordinary life opens up for thinking about the production and reproduction of images.
Doral and Anita shared their harvest with our home last week, and I have been busy baking with apples ever since.
Does it look like I have put a dent in our stock?
Today's recipe turned into more of a science experiment. Mary used to make a microwaved baked apple for herself after school.
David and I gave it a go. Core an apple leaving the bottom on. Ours looked like a tiny red pumpkin by the time the stem and seeds were out.
Mix together 5 mL margarine, 15 mL brown sugar, and 2.5 mL cinnamon. Put in microwave for 5 minutes. I hope, dear reader, you are not taking notes.
We ended up with cinnamon toffee that hardened on the bottom of the bowl, a teeny tiny bit of applesauce, and some crispy edible apple skin.
Time to soak the dish, and try again, I think. Our home smells great but our bellies are not full.
We had better luck with our Apple Fritters. Although we have added some notes in our recipe book for modifying the recipe, we devored the whole batch on one sitting.
Doral and Anita’s family came from Saskachewan and Alberta to
the Shuswap to celebrate Thanksgiving. They timed their trip so well that we
were able to celebrate Doral’s and Bonnie’s birthdays together. We were a table
of 10 at the Barley Station Brew Pub. We did some catching up and made plans
for Thanksgiving dinner at the lake. So much to be grateful for, including the
colours of the fall. We hope everybody else will have a great Thanksgiving,
with lots of good food and cheer.
[Ed Note: this post is one I started more than a year ago, and forgot to post. It is part 4 of a report on my day at the Louvre!]
Nourished and rested up from the food break (i don't think you really CAN do a trip to the Louvre without accounting for the need to recharge), I returned to my wanderings. I spent a bit longer in my exploration of portraiture, back in the 15th and 16th centuries in Northern Europe.
I love the seriousness of face in this portrait done by Hans Holbein the Younger of Sir Henry Wyatt (counseller to Henry VIII). I like to think that his facial expression makes visible the internal discomfort he must have felt about his King's very bad domestic behaviour in terms of divorcing or offing his wives? I also like it that the date of the painting is 1535-1537. Artistic production takes time! :-)
Also, there is this portait by/of Albrecht Dürer. In my mind, I mostly associated him with printmaking and woodblock prints. He was another of these people with fluency across media. This is one of his first self-portraits, apparently sent as a gift to his betrothed. Much to be said about how to read it (and the layers of interpretation in thistle), but for sure it shows his skill in fabric and skin.
Plus, he was quite the beauty! So visible in a closeup! (and there is something I like about his attention to his beauty)
direct but enigmatic gaze?
Something equally lovely in the "Portrait of Caspar von Köckeritz" by Lucas Cranach the Elder. It is hard to really capture the feel of being in front of the paintings (the glass always disrupts the view in a photo), but that didn't stop me from trying to take photos! :-) I kept reminding myself that there are lovely closeups of most paintings out on the Louvre website, in this case here: https://collections.louvre.fr/ark:/53355/cl010065502
As I thought about my experience of spending time with these two beautiful portraits, I wondered if I found it a bit more 'comfortable' standing in front of Cranach painting than the Dürer one one precisely because he is NOT looking directly at the viewer! :-).
Close by was another portrait by Lucas Cranach the Elder.
This one was of John Frederick the Magnanimous, Crown Prince of Saxony (1503-1554).
I don't know too much about this chap. Not sure why and how he was held to be 'magnanimous'. But the internet does say that during his life, he had the largest library in all of Germany. So that is something!
At some point, I realized the day was getting away from me. I had really enjoyed myself in the less crowded Richlieu Wing, but knew it was time to branch out to other parts of the museum, to re-visit some works of art I had loved on other visits.
With gratitude to that Nintendo DS audioguide map, I starting searching to find a relatively short pathway to the sculptuary! Off I went. There were lots of steps to take, crowds to move past, and several missteps, but I finally got there.
How can artists create something so soft looking from something as hard as stone? Nicholas Cordier's "Three Graces" is a perfect example.
Hard not to want to just reach and out touch them (or imagine being the person braiding their hair!
I kept wandering until I found another one of my favourites, Sleeping Hermaphrodite (the son of Hermes and Aphrodite).
I saw this sculpture for the first time on a trip to the museum with Arta and Bonnie, way back in 2014. [ed note: a blog post from 2014 reports that we were the last ones to hand in our audio-guides and leave the museum! Some things just don't change.]
In any event, it is such a fantastic piece of androgynous gender-blending trans beauty.
The thing about sculptures is that they require you to 'move'. There is just no way to engage with the amazing object before you other than to keep moving to see how it opens up new vistas of amazingness to you as you continue to move around it (uh....is that like a metaphor for life or something?). Anyways, I did try doing that with my camera to see if I could remind myself of all the angles. Here is 20 seconds or so:https://youtu.be/t1Y1ivF7lxk
[Editor note: flash forward a year.... when i was wandering around the internet reading more about the sculpture, I came across this fun 8 minute 'gallery talk' dealing with a 3d printed version of the scultpure that is at Museum of Antiquities at the University of Saskatchewan! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAT665gevgU]
Finally, I came to the conclusion that my energies were finally fully depleted, and that it was time to head back home. I stopped for a few parting selfies up through the glass pyramid in the central hall, capturing the late afternoon clouds. And then called it a day!
[Editor note: Here are links to the other 3 posts (from back in 2024) summarizing my full day of dousing myself in different parts of the Louvre. Too much?! Hardly! The accounts are for those who, like me, start when the doors open, and are the last ones kicked out at the end of the day!]
1. The Richlieu Wing (the first 4 paintings) [featuring Duncan?]
[Editor note: I started this post over a year ago, and forgot to finish it. so... here it is now]
waiting in the station for our train (in the background)
Well, Steve decided that he really did need to see a Tottenham game in person (soccer).
He also determined that it was cheaper to just take the eurostar from Paris to London to do that, rather than to take a flight to London from Victoria.
And so.... we decided to take a couple of days out of the Paris vacation to take a quick 1-night jaunt to London. And the eurostar was our vehicle of choice.
having breakfast on the train
It did mean a very early start to the day, and there was a bit of a fancydance at the beginning (where it intially appeared that our tickets were for the day before?!), but we managed (even with our intermediate french skills) to sort it out and get ourselves onto the train.
The view out the window is a mixed bag at the speed the train travels.
A mixture of beauty, and an edge of vertigo. I particular enjoyed the countryside, and the strange (to me) experience of farm lands presenting themselves as 'wind farms'.
all the wind farms on the way...
There was something delicious in the beauty of their sharp angular structures agains the marshmallow grey puffs of the clouded sky.
I also found myself contemplating the various speeds of movement: I felt like I was sitting quite still in a train moving at 300km and hour, amplified when other trains would pass us going the other direction at the same speed, while the clouds moved slowly across the skies, and windmill blades rotated around at their own speed, moved by the winds, or being moved by them? Here's 20 seconds of video from the train:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_c6aITKvZ4
And so, we arrived happily at St. Pancras train station.
I do love coming in through St. Pancras.
What a beautiful station.
Just looks so much like a castle.
I did have to stop on the stairs to just spend a 20 seconds watching the clouds moving past the roof edge. I could have stayed longer:
Because my hips and knees were giving me grief, Steve undertook to get us a hotel room super-close to the train station, so I would not have to do very much walking.
He was as good as his word, and checked us into The Standard Hotel, which is exactly across the street from St. Pancras station. It was literally a stone's throw.
I don't want to sound like I am doing hotel promo, but... it was a lovely place to stay. :-)
It had such a retro/modern feel, both outside and inside.
Super nice job on the design features.
I loved the windows, which were curved on the edges, as if you were on a ship of some sort.
And then the view out the window? Wow.
Feels a bit like you are entering a ship cabin
The room was called "the King of Kings"
ah... chill-axing on the king bed and enjoying the view
I love how it feels like the windows on a cruise ship
the close up view out the hotel window
Steve, kitted out in his Tottenham gear
Having caught our breath, we went our separate ways, planning to meet up later. I was heading off to see "The Cursed Child", parts 1 and 2 (meaning a matinee performance, followed by an evening one).
Steve was going to be heading off to the Tottenham game (where he had got himself a box seat), but he had a bit more time to chill out. He did agree to send me a selfie once he got to the game.
And so, I grabbed my jacket and I headed back to the street, but with a slightly tighter timeline.
and of course it starts to rain....
Of course, those beautiful puffy clouds had turned to rain.
No worries.
We too live on a green island, so I know very well that rain is just a visit from a relative. :-)
The only snag was that, after having filled up my oyster card, and planned my travel route, I missed my bus. urgh. Ah well... it was taxi time! Another fun adventure. (trains, planes and automobiles all the way!)
arriving on time at the Palace Theatre
I arrived at the Palace Theatre with a bit of time to spare.
I couldn't help but remember that this is where Bonnie Wyora and I saw Les Miserables for the first time in 1985, where Duncan got to see Singing in the Rain with Arta in 2012.
Always fun thinking about the scores of feet, and scores of song (hahaha) that have wandered through its hallways.
Yes... a return visit to the show
this time, a seat in the stalls, not the balcony
I love all the details in the building itself
Reminding me of clock in Musee d'Orsay
Seeing the full play in one day does mean some significant time spent in a theatre seat, but I love such things. But one does need a meal in between the matinee and evening show. I followed an old pattern, and walked down the block to the closest Weatherspoons to have the chicken tikkia masala (this being one of the places where we could easily satisify the different palettes of the two boys the year we lived here). So... just another comforting retro moment. And then, back to see if the play would end in the same way. :-). It did.
The rain having stopped, I headed back to the streets, and grabbed a bus for the ride back home (yes, I am aware it is a hotel, but home is where the heart is, right?)
On the way there, Steve texted me from a local pub, so I got off the bus a few stops early, and found him.
We met up there to chat and debrief the adventures of the evening (while listening to a great musician do a couple of sets).
And then we headed back to the street for the short walk back to the hotel.
Not only had the rain stopped, but the skies were gloriously clear.
The moon was like a beacon in the sky. As clear from London as it often is from the backyard in Victoria (what? the moon is something we share?!).
The buildings along the street were illuminated, and shaded in colour.
Not many things are better than an evening walk on a warm summer night, where the rain has pulled the dust and pollution out of the air. A perfect ending to a very full day.
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