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| These pink-flowered boots are made for walkin' |
I had an hour before the theatre began ... and no schedule.
It was dark by now and the commuters were underground, taking their tube rides home.
I love those times when there is nothing to do in London but walk down the streets and look in the windows .. at shoes that I think Mary might buy ... or at tourists with their families, having meals in the ethnic restaurants before the shows they have planned to go to open.
The refuse from the food and clothing establishments is put out on the streets after dark, and I watched the garbage trucks picking up the blue and white bags by the curb, the garbage trucks with their flashing lights, rolling slowly down the street beside the curbs.
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Catchy SALE sign
If I created that sign, I am sure someone would tell me to
go get a larger piece of cardboard. |
I had strolled through Covent Garden, but the people with wares to sell were packing up their goods, loading them into large plastic containers and slipping them into their vans that now lined the streets. People were lined up under food kiosks as well, and there is a hint of romance in the lighting under the awnings reflecting off of the steaming pans of food being offered to customers.
As well, men with sandwich boards on their backs were letting me know that 2 for 1 pizza is being sold a few streets over.
In other times, I might take one of the samples their companions offer from a big silver platter, but last week I watched Steve fighting off a bout of food poisoning.
I practised restraint, wanting to move with good health through these last days in London.
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| ... buckles, buttons and chords for nautical wear ... |
With heightened interest, I began looking in the shop windows where only buttons, cording and buckles for nautical wear were sold.
I can understand someone stopping to buy a garment that is pre-made, but this shop only offered bits and pieces out of which you could construct your own nautical costume.
I have enough unfinished projects at home already.
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| FREVD |
I passed.
When I saw people step into scaffolding and then disappear downwards, their waists gone, then their shoulders, then their heads, I took a few steps back to see why they were going "missing" in this fashion.
On the ground sat a blackboard with a chalk sign:
Frevd, a cocktail glass and some stairs at the bottom of which was an arrow pointing even further downward.
The cafe had the aura of one of those shops into which one disappears and lands up in the Netherworld.
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| Windows of The Organic Pharmacy |
I can't remember the names of all of the shops I am passing, so I say one to myself, say the next one, then on walking past the third, I drop the name of the first, and thus make my way down the street, trying to make sense of the new names of shops.
When I read the words, The Organic Pharmacy, I couldn't help think of all of the synthetic products in the pharmacies where I pick up my medications.
But when the clerks came out on the street to smoke, I saw that their skin was flawless, and their make-up was perfect, so this might not be the kind of pharmacy I am used to frequenting.
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| ...white cuffs and collar... |
Do I know a man who would wear a shirt like this?
White collar and cuffs, pine striped sleeves, the left and the front of the shirt in different dark patterns.
My eye is often drawn to the shirts the British men are wearing -- especially when they are pink or fushia. Actually, I am thinking, what is this culture doing, different than the one back home, that it can get men to wear shirts that color?
This shirt was different, ... and beautiful ... and I wish I could have seen a man walking in it, a man with confidence because the shirt deserved such a wearer.
And thus endeth my hour before the theatre.
Arta
