So...we passed around the corner to spent some time with photos of Mick Jagger and the Stones from the 60s. We were just enjoying the portraits when my cell phone rang: steve asking me what the bank had said about getting me a new PIN for my debit card. [ooops.... i guess i had not completely finished those other tasks!] As background, my new debit card had arrived in the mail, with a note telling me the PIN would arrive a few days later in a different letter. Unfortunately, that was the same day they announced the postal strike. so there i was, with a bank card but no PIN code. The plan had been to just have them re-stripe it for me at the bank in London, but I had been too busy to get there before closing hours. Luckily, the head office was only a few blocks away, so Arta came with me and we tore off to the bank. That was an interesting experience. I explained the problem, showed all my documents and identity cards. They agreed they could help: they would cancel the PIN they had sent me, and mail me out a new one. Now, I don't really like to be judgmental re systems in other countries, but I have to say, this one baffled me a bit. ... it turns out they cannot re-stripe your card, but can ONLY give you a new PIN through the mail. Maybe they presume Mail in the rest of the world functions like Mail in England? I don't know.... but it seemed a bit odd, and am still waiting here in Canada for my PIN to arrive...
Back to our day. After learning that I would need to still stick with the Canadian banking card for a while longer, Arta and I headed off for dinner at a restaurant Wyona likes in the theatre district.
Arta's new scarves, and my necklace of glass beads that Mary made!... I wore them to London!] I did ask the waitress to tell me a bit more about the soup? Was it like french onion soup? What else was in it? She seemed not so interested in the recipe, telling me, it was just onions. OK. Why not? We decided to try one of each. The soup, it turned out, was a quite delicious blended soup that I would have identified as a warm version of vichyssoise.... WAY more potato than onion, and quite tasty. And the grilled sardines? (which was Arta's choice, and which she shared). They arrived whole, their little fishy heads gazing up at us. But they were yummy. Arta said they reminded her of granddad, who loved them. We probably could have stopped there, but then the main course arrived, which was a honking big piece of salmon and a ton of vegetables. Uncle Dave might have even been satisfied!
And th
We headed home to pack. Wyona and Arta were to head off on the cruise in the morning, but needed to get to Liverpool Street Station, with FIVE pieces of luggage. I had only ONE, so the thought was that if I came with them that far, we could get them AND their luggage to the station. All I can say is, given that some of the lines were closed, and our connections involved stations with stairs instead of escalators,... well....it was an adventure. I also have to say that Wyona can back a suitcase fuller than I thought was physically possible. Plus, the two of them have these new (cruise st
...oh yes.... I nearly forgot. We also spent some time in the fabulous gift shop at the national Gallery. They had some excellent malamine plates for sale... plates with famous paintings on them. Arta was tempted by buy one of adam and eve in the garden of eden. Even if it was 80% off, she finally agreed that one does not necessarily want to be eating their dinner off Adam's genitals.... :-)
ReplyDeleteI must not have read this comment before, because I choked with laughter.
DeleteYou two are hilarious! So fun to read your post full of written and visual details that I am sure barely touch the surface of the day.
ReplyDeleteMay 23, 2020 I created a post titled "Thoughts on writing, editing, being stuck in a loop, and freedom." Inside the post was no words by me. Just a link to this particular blogpost.
ReplyDeleteI went to find this post because Arta threatened to publish it as if I didn't go in and do it myself. I looked, told her there was no writing in it, and she laughed and said, "I know, but the title is so good, the post should go up."
I adore her.
What do I mean by that?
What I mean is I don't want to feel pressured to write blog posts, even if the pressure comes wrapped in a beautiful compliment. And, I recognize, the pokes, prods, and pleads do motivate me to get out and write ... but I also am not evolved enough yet to not feel shame for not writing more often and regret that she has to waste her energy prodding me, because I know I "should" write more posts and am so grateful to look back and read back posts by me or others because it can offer insight into the present, or just a good laugh the thought of "Adam's serving tray." As the saying goes, "If I had the family jewels, I would keep them in ..."