Into the Woods

From Rebecca:

The evening started with a quick run to MacDonalds with an Alex who hadn’t eaten all day and was about to make up for it. Ben and Duncan were along. There was much discussion of glycogen and insulin and all things chemistry. As we left MacDonalds the police were outside talking to street people, asking them to be considerate in their use of language and not to swear. Alex thought the police instead should be considerate and buy the 2 men a hot meal. “Think of the children,” the police said.

The musical was put on by The Canadian College of Performing Arts. The show was Sondheim’s Into the Woods. Seeing the show was a first for Ben. The rest of us had seen the show a couple of times in the past. I tried to give Ben the story in advance but Alex and Duncan were adamant that I not do that. To quote Alex, “Mum, you will destroy the rising action.” A good time was had by all. There were highlights that we had to discuss afterwards. Cinderella’s sisters were played by two men. The two princes were, of course, fantastic, both of them having agony so much painful than yours. The princes arrived on on scooters, rather than horses. They were also exceptional leapers, the right hand straight ahead, the left arm back at the same angle, making the audience laugh. Alex’s favourite character was Jared Crocket, from Duncan, B.C. who played the father and the steward. Ben’s favourite line was that when a person is into the woods, nothing is good, nothing is bad, you decide what is good and wrong no longer matters.

On the way home all of the boys agreed that the words “into the woods” is a deep metaphor, and one to use in life. This was their collective decision.  Ben had never heard of theatre in the round. We were there early enough to inspect the set while waiting for the show to begin.  He had never seen a revolving stage.

At the end of the night all of us can finish the line, “I really hate to ask it” ....  with ... “do you have a basket”.

We stopped by 7-11 on the way home. All of the guys in the car are well over 6 feet high but still like to go down the candy isle and get pop out of the soda machine.

Chow Mien

...always have those little suckers
on reserve in your cupboard ...

I have to think ahead if I am going to make chow mien. Chicken chow mien was what I thought would be good. Not everyone can pull bok choy out of their cupboard, nor have shitake mushrooms in their pantry. I had all of the ingredients that I needed on a list. And Rebecca and I looked at the dried noodles for a long time in the grocery store, to see which ones would really do the job.

My goal was to make a noodle dish that Duncan would like.

I came close.

Not close enough. “If you don’t like it, just take it back to the kitchen,” said Steve to Duncan a little later from the sanctuary of their TV gaming monitors. “What could be wrong”, I wondered aloud to Duncan. “I want to do it right next time.”

“The noodles are too short. You can’t twist them on the fork and get them up to your mouth.”

Who would have known? No hit here tonight with my culinary skills.  I would have thought it was the mushrooms that would have gone down.

There are plenty of other noodles on the grocery shelves for me to try.

 And I am not dead yet.

Arta

Family Film Night

Steve cued up the film The Martians and invited anyone who hadn’t seen it yet to spend the evening watching with him.

I am always available for a film – any film, especially genres with which I haven’t had very much experience. Good to expand my film repertoire. If a film has some suspense, I like to read the reviews before hand. I have enough anxiety in real life that I want to miss any tension that is artificial. If the protagonist is going to die, just let me know it up front. I had no time to do this, but partway into the film, I could remember having read a review of this movie in the newspaper. Ah. Calming.

The film was produced by Twentieth Century Fox. When I was young that name seemed progressive. Yes … the twentieth century. The film opened I wondered why they don’t change their name to Twenty-First Century Fox to keep up the times. And then I thought they need to be cheered – still keeping a company afloat after so many years.

I like sitting in films at home with the family. If there is a question you can whisper it, or make a comment, or laugh longer and see that someone beside you is loving the joke as well. Good to be with friends.

I wanted to know why the word Sol 1, Sol 2, etc. appeared on the screen as Mark Watney (Matt Damon) was making a video tape of his life on Mars. Everyone made good guesses. No one knew.

I had to go to the internet today to discover that Sol is the “term used by planetary astronomers to refer to the duration of a solar day on Mars. A mean Martian solar day, or “sol” is 24 hours, 39 minutes and 35.244 seconds.

So sci-fi, a lot of subtle wit and science used speak about and solve problems. What was there not to like about that evening with the family at the movies?

Arta

Deceit

Duncan was 'trapped' on his computer today. He was playing "Starwars: Republic" and had some booster thing that required him to stay hooked in.  

And so he called me over and said "Mom, I don't wanna be 'that guy', but... could you make me some tasty food to eat here at the computer?  Maybe a milkshake and taco salad without the salad?"  

Sure, said I.  And so you can see the milkshake I provided:  a delicious blend of frozen mango, banana and..... SPINACH!   

Duncan was sufficiently hungry (and unwilling to get up from the computer) that he was prepared to eat it. He did argue that I had, however, deceived him!

In the face of his whining, I said, "Hey, seriously?!   You get delivery of a yummy sweet drink and you complain?  Don't you think you should just be saying "THANKS" to your wonderful mother for delivering you your vegetables in such a tricky but tasty form?

He agreed, and offered this response:  

"You are right mom.  Thanks for the deceit!"  

 

Duncan's creme brulee

on 'what duncan got for christmas', ......
http://carter-johnson2.blogspot.ca/2013/12/christmas-creme-brulee.html

Crepe Batter with Soya Milk

Crepe Batter with Soy Milk
testing its viscosity

Alex has been asking me for crepes for a number of days.  On each occasion I explain my reticence to make them, for he wants them created out of eggs and soya milk.  No flour.  I ask him why the soya milk and he says it is because it is good for you.  But he is not interested in crepes made with flour.

Two days ago I told him to go out to the internet, find a recipe for crepes that take eggs and soya milk and will do the work.  He thinks that just doing it is easier than going to find a recipe, so I obliged today – an egg crepe.  The recipe was 3 eggs, 1 tablespoon of soya milk, and pour the batter into a pan that has about ¼ of an inch of oil in it.  I do this for eggs strips that go into deluxe fried rice – why not for him.  After sprinkling freshly grated cheese on the crepe, I rolled it and offered it to him.

Whoops!  That is not what he was wanting and he would show me how to make it himself.

Rebecca and I have discussed her kids in the kitchen.  We decided that it is better to experiment with eggs, maybe make a few mistakes, than to trouble ourselves about having them turn out a perfect project.

So I stood back.  Alex put one cup of soya milk in the 12 inch skillet (no oil, for that was part of what I did wrong – too much oil).  He let it boil.  Then cracked an egg in and added a lot of cheese.  Then, stir, stir, stir.  Then try to flip the product over – which was a couple of inches high – the cheese stretching out as he stirred.  He went to the strainer, trying to correct something – though he did not know what.

Finally he put it into a bowl saying it didn’t really work out as he had planned.

I tasted some.  “Mmm.  Good,"  I said.  Who wouldn’t like all of that cheese melted and soft .  What he had created was a delicious sharp cheese fondue.

... Alex rescuing the crepe batter by
putting it through a strainer...

“Do you want to finish it off,” he asked.

“Too much fat for me.  I would gain weight and weight is too hard to walk it off,” I sorrowfully replied.

Thus ends the tale of crepes made from a cup of milk, 2 cups of cheese and one egg.

Arta

Theatre Treats

Tickets for Wicked, anyone?

In the first film course I took, the instructor told us that we should come to the film viewing, readying to enjoy the whole experience, and to bring along our drinks, our popcorn and our treats.

I thought the professor was just making a joke.

But I have come to know that part of the filmic / theatre experience involved snacks and pre-theatre drinks.

Ice Cream at MacDonalds
the non-drinkers option for pre-theatre drink

In fact, most of the musical theatre shows begins with a voice remind the audiences that no photography is permitted, that they should turn off their cell phones, and that their sweets should be unwrapped now instead of during the performance.

Wyona has been a good example to me.

She thinks far ahead on the subject of treats and has the soda cold and in one corner of a bag that is just the right size for sweets, and the other treats are unwrapped in separate zip lock bags and portions for the number of people accompanying her to the theatre. There is a bit of heart failure at the door when an usher asks to look in the bag, but apparently we pass the test, for there is no alcohol content in our purses. In fact, one usher asked to look in Zoe’s bag, Zoe opened it up and the usher said, “Great snacks!” and motioned her on.

Duncan and I have been attending West End performances and varying our sweets. Last night we had Starbursts, Cadbury’s Bits Wispa, Cadbury’s Crunchie Rocks, Cadbury’s Caramel Nibbles and Cadbury’s Milk Chocolate. We entertained ourselves on the tube ride there, by reading the wrappers of the Starbursts.

1. Balance a Starburst on your nose.
2. Balance three Starbursts on your finger (it doesn’t designate which finger)
3. Keep quiet for one minute. NO giggling.
4. Make a noise like a pig while hopping like a kangaroo.

Duncan shared the treats with Thomas Ten Cate and Makmiller Pedroso, who had tickets on the front row with us. We had enough treats that we could have shared with all 20 people on the front row. All of this to say that I learned something else last night.

... the day after ...
a chance to retrieve Starbursts from melted chocolate

When the treat bag sits on the lap of a warm eleven year old, this is what the treats looks like at the end of the night.

We left it in the fridge all day and tonight we tried to mine the Starbursts back out of the chocolate rock.

Arta

Wicked, Encore

 ... the only musical still running 10 years later ...

Duncan and I went to Wicked last night.

I lined up at the theatre doors at 9 am to get two £27.50 tickets on the front row – a bargain.

Duncan likes to sit beside people he knows at the theatre.

Or perhaps have an empty seat between him and the next person – that will do also.

... Duncan getting Glindafied ...

But we were in a sold out house last night. The next best alternative was that my old boarder, Thomas Ten Cate, was there.

I had explained to Duncan that Thomas works for Google.

“How can that be? How can a person work in virtual space where there is nothing,” Duncan wanted to know.

“It is not exactly like that,” Thomas said.

... so much construction it is hard to find your way
through the maze and into the theatre ...

Duncan also wanted to know, “Can you get into people’s accounts and see everything when you work at Goggle?”

Oh, the mysteries of life!

Thomas explained that no one has powers that great – that he works with Google Calendar, just a small piece of Google.

I don’t know which held more of the evening’s fun for Duncan.

The play?

... on the steps of Google ...

Or going over to Thomas’s office afterward (a five minute walk away), sitting on the steps of a building that has high security, and imagining what must be going on inside while Thomas went in to retrieve some luggage for us.

Yes.

There are chances to imagine even more in the line of mystery, than what we saw on stage – the changing of a man into a scarecrow, a woman who can defy gravity, a goat who is a professor.

OK.

Maybe some things are easier to imagine that others.

Arta

Byrons

... resting on a ledge in Seaworld ...

Duncan and I have been having some crazy days on the town.

This was the first of them.

Rebecca set us up to go to Seaworld.

 But we had other tasks to do as well.

We were to pick up a CD of Chicago for her, and after our walk around Seaworld and our trip along the South Bank, both of us had aching feet – his more than mine.

... this fish would fit a square serving plate ...

He is good on the tube.

I am also able to make my way around though I am judged by him to be mediocre.

That is because on my winter trip, we did loose each other in a tube stop at Covent Garden.

Now when we get off at that station, he makes me take his arm. I try to get off there often with him. To speed up our chores we decided to take a couple of tube stops to make our journey to the theatre faster.

 On the train was the cutest little girl ever. She found a little nook at the corner of the train, one that had once held a fire-extinguisher, and now the cartridge was gone but the unit that held it was still in on the floor. She had backed her way into it, sat down and was sitting on her little haunches. I said, “Look, Duncan, did you ever see anything so cute.”

We were enjoying her. When I looked up, even if I am not that good on the subway, I could tell we were two stops past our destination. He blames me for distracting him so that he watched passengers instead of the map.

... this fish kept circling the tank ...

We spent a lot of our time laughing. I went to buy the CD at the box office, and the clerk there told me that he doesn’t sell them. “They are only on sale before and after the performance.”

“And,” he said, “you will find them much cheaper in an ordinary music store.”

 Duncan’s eyes grew wide when he heard the clerk say that.

Looks like Writing-On-Stone, but no, ... it is a real fish!

Our supper stop was to be at Byrons.

Steve and Rebecca have taken the family there before.

Duncan wanted a return trip.

Since this is a high-end burger franchise, there was a store right there by Chicago.

No, he had to go back to the store up by Seven Dials, so away we went on the tube again – him telling me that he will be able to find it when I walk him by the musical, Rock of Ages.

Well, a musical-theatre loving Grandmother can do that, and yes – on that street, I could find the theatre and he could find the restaurant.

... just give me a bun, burger, bun ... cooked medium, please ...

Duncan’s allergies have kept him pretty much eating the same food since he was small – his order is always, “A hamburger – bun, burger, bun”.

There must be enough orders given to waitresses like that, for back it came, simply a bun, burger, bun.

We discussed filling out the comment card. Duncan thought the restaurant could have more variety in their burgers.

“Yes?, said I. “What will you order then?”

“Bun, burger, bun,” he said.

Arta

Duncan’s Cook Book

Limited Edition

Duncan wants to cook.

Mostly he wants to eat cake.

Not ordinary cake, but ice-cream cake.

I have no problem with that, except making ice-cream cake is not really cooking. We are going to make an ice-cream cake and more.

I thought we could begin to cook using every category: appetizers, entrees, salads, drinks, desserts.  He took a book and began our project, numbering the pages and making a table of contents. 

Table of Contents

That was about all of the cooking he wanted to do for the day.

But in a few hours we were back at the project, trying to put together something from the ingredients we already had at hand.

We watched a utube video on the perfect banana smoothie.

Who would have known that we were to find bananas with a small brown fleck on the skin – sweeter for our drink? As well we had to dig into the backs of the cupboard to find a blender, and learn how to assemble it.

Recipe: banana, ice, mango pulp, a dash of cocoa ... yum

The only hitch in our cooking came when I got involved. I told him that it would be easy to slip the ice we had crush out of the bowl and back into the blender. Duncan was right on this count which led to me having to make an apology – since I was wrong. Bonnie has been teaching me the new model of saying “I’m sorry.” I am not that good at the form,, yet. I think I have to describe what I did wrong, say I am sorry, and ask the person how I can make restitution. And then I have to perform that act. Bonnie says that she has to look for ways to model this for David.

Unfortunately, making mistakes often, I will not have to look far. In this case I said, “I am sorry I spilled your ice on the floor. You were right and I was wrong. How can I make up for it.”

Duncan hasn’t been taught the theory of this form of saying I am sorry, but he was quick to say, “Well, I will feel better if you clean up the mess than if I do.” Later I was to understand it was just not the mess of the ice on the floor, but the mess of all of the utensils we used while making the smoothie. So ... cooking lesson number one is complete.  And restitution lesson number one has been practised.

Here's to becoming a good cook.  Cheers!

The only unhappy person is Alex, whose ice we used up. I am not going to ask if I can make making restitution in this case – at least until tomorrow when I can go to the store and pick up some ice.

Astutely, he wants to know already why I didn’t think to ask myself before I used it, “Might someone else want some ice today.”

Some questions just never enter my mind.

Arta

Lunch in the Park

... half in the shade and half in the sun ...

Rebecca wrote:

Duncan and I are at the park eating bacon sandwiches at the cafe.

Steve and Alex are off at rugby.

They won the last game and now move up to division 2!

Ugh!

And this is why I say, don't throw balls in the house.

First there were three pictures.

Now there are two.

Rebecca

Going towards the High Streeet

... let me find the nutcrackers for those ...

I have been in three other women’s kitchens: Anita’s, Mary’s and now Rebecca’s.

Really been in them, as in ... they have left me the kitchen and their kids and all of us, especially the kids, are worried how we will stay alive until the moms get back.

Arta, an image on the side of a van

Rebecca’s sabbatical kitchen is minimalist, not making cooking pots here, so it was no surprise to me that I couldn’t find nutcrackers.

There has been a small white bowl on the counter since I came, and I decided I would get rid of that bowl, crack the nuts in it and use them in some baking.

I asked Steve if he had any idea where the nutcrackers were, since there are only 2 drawers here full of the miscellaneous kitchen tools that women usually have.

... a hint of spring on the ground ...

I have searched through the plastic popsicle container, the candy thermometer, the potato peeler, but no nutcrackers.

Steve was glad to ask me a leading question. “Why are you cracking the nuts that the kids picked up at the park when we were walking the dog?”

... Poundland ...

So instead of cooking I spent two hours today walking the High Street – with my camera.

What I like about having a camera is that I am learning to see things – really see them, as the camera captures them and not as I think they look.

Shadows still surprise me.

... a fence close to home ...

Sometimes even my own shadow surprises me.

Today when I was looking closely at a brick wall, I was surprised at the depth of the shadow in a crevice, so I found myself looking at the wall, then looking at the picture the camera captures, then looking at the monitor again.

What I stop to take pictures of, I can find at home: a dried hydrangea, red berries on brown twigs, a street that leads towards home.

... winter seasonal interest ...

I like the High Street towards which I was moving. There is a certain charm in calling a business “Poundland”.

... the walk towards home ...

There are a plethora of Rental businesses, and lots of restaurants: Chinese, Indian, Persian, the best Turkish food in Finchley, Sushi, Mediterranean and even a fish and chips shop.

I am also surprised at the number of places where you can stop and lay a bet.

Now that is something we don’t have at home.

Arta

P.S. Check out the poster in this shop.

Duncan's favorite shop sign
sounds like a Wanted Poster "Dead or Alive"
from the Wild West
--about the robber, Old Gold--

A Grandmother's Duty

Strawberry Tarts that look better than they taste!

"Grandma? Did you get groceries? Don’t you understand? It is your duty.”

That is the part that made me laugh, having never seen a list of duties for grandmothers.

I like shopping. Having someone else’s credit card in my hand and browsing up and down the isles, looking for good food is especially good. However, I have done that grocery shopped for nearly fifty years now, and some of the charm of buying groceries is gone. Rebecca took me on a dry run through the store before she left – picking up Nutella, shelf-life rice milk, Sainsbury’s skim milk, the products that really matter around here.

97% pure pork ... who knew?

Who would have thought there is a difference between buying Sainsbury pork sausages and Sainsbury 97% pork sausages? I congratulate myself just on getting meat into the cart and had no idea that the expectations would be so high on what I actually selected.

In previous trips to the grocery store I have only been an interested sight-seer, letting Wyona and Glen select the breads and cheeses, figure out which are the best desserts – that was a job for others, but not the task has landed on me. In fact ... as a duty. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the fact that you select a loaf and then take it to another counter to have it sliced, either medium or fat slices. But having the information and not having done the drill slowed me down considerably.

... choose your cheese ...

Rebecca had also taken me to the Indian store down when we had to drop in and have a document certified. “Who wrote this,” the solicitor asked. “I did,” she said. “Do you need to make any changes.” “No, it is fine,” he replied and she paid her 15 pounds to him instead of 50. That conversation was more interesting to me than marking the spot where the East Indian store was located – until yesterday when I wanted to make dahl. I have no idea why the idea struck me, but in cases of food urges, it is better to give in, I have learned. Having no ground cumin, no coriander, no turmeric, and no red lentils,  I slipped up and down side streets trying to find my way to a store, where, when my products were bagged, they said, "Oh, we don’t take Visa. Too expensive."

 “Then I will come back for these in a couple of hours when I have been home and dropped off these other groceries,” I said.

... buy pork, not fish ... it is your duty ...

I will always remember where the Indian Grocery Store is located for next door is NL Auctions – in business since 1977. “Oh, Wyona is going to kill me,” I thought, “when she finds out I am going to auctions without her.” I slipped in and enjoyed the thrill of the bidding. I don’t like to gamble. Watching the auction, and wondering what Wyona, especially, is going to do next at one? Now there is a rush there. I kept track of the prices for her. A 3-D Victorian slide-viewer, complete with cards -- £150. An ivory letter opener -- £20. I noted the viewing times and the date of the next auction: viewing on Sundays, and all day Mondays until the auction at 2 p.m. Perhaps I will find something small enough to bring back in my suitcase – no use looking at the beautiful furniture this round.

The clerk at the grocery store must not have believed I would return. When I did, picking up even more groceries and then cashing out at another till, the first clerk came over to me with some garlic and coriander naan, putting it so close to my face I could hardly see what it was.

“Do you like this?”

“Yes,” I say, although I am afraid of what he is going to ask next.

“Then I am giving you these 2 packages free of charge – they are dated to be used by tomorrow.”

Oh, London is fun!

The 193 steps

 ...Duncan at the beginning of our 7 hour adventure ...

Duncan and I have done our homework.

We had tickets to go to the Moscow State Gogol Theatre Performance of “Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka”.

We had previewed the show on YouTube, seven segments in all.

We had the plot down pat, had listened to the music, and had asked questions about what we had heard.

For example, I didn’t know what a sacristan is, since no one in my faith holds that holy office.

Duncan and I have been hanging out on the tube for some time now, and we have plans for what happens should one of us get on or off at a stop and the other be left behind.

Arta with her purse full of nutella sandwiches and asssorted sweets

We got to run our plan today.

The Piccadilly Line has five elevators that bring people up to Leicester Square.

We were waiting to get on elevator five, when I saw Duncan (and many other people) slip behind a pillar to go up elevator four.

Not wanting this to be the first time we were parted, I too, slipped over, and pushed my way onto the elevator, which was already full.

But half way to the top, I realized that I couldn’t see him anywhere in that over-sized elevator.

I got off at the top to wait for him to come up in the next elevator, but no Duncan and the security agent was asking me to go through the turnstile and wait for my lost grandson on the outside of the station.

Duncan beside the poster advertising the Russian play

Five minutes later, still no Duncan.

At the 10 minute mark I was figuring out what I was going to say to Steve when I called him.

At that point, I saw Duncan’s face on the other side of the barrier, but he was in an elevator going down and unable at that point to leap out.

I waved.

the theatre marque for English subtitles

Ten more minutes, and I couldn’t stand it any longer and told that Security Guard that I had to come back through the turnstile, for I had lost my grandson.

He asked for his name and then took me through a small corridor, and in that same corridor Duncan came rushing towards us.

Aah! My live was getting good again.

We pulled ourselves over to the side of the walkway that leads to Covent Garden and we talked. Duncan didn’t slip through to go up elevator four.

He was just looking for me, and when he figured out I was missing, he ran the 193 steps to the top of the line.

Not seeing me there, he got on the elevator to do back down, saw me wave, and so at the bottom again, he ran the 193 steps back up to the top. His cheeks were red by now, and he was limping from the charlie horses that were now in his legs.

After sharing with each other our sides of conflicting but similar stories, we stayed pretty much shoulder to shoulder, forearm to forearm for the rest of the day.

How is that for a theatre chandelier?

The Shaftsbury Theatre had the most unusual coloured chandeliers.

I didn’t know if the underwear that I saw hanging from them was for our show, or for the Rock of Ages show that is being presented at that theatre. Duncan and I decided that it was probably be for the night show and not for our show.

We were right.

Our seats were in the Grand Circle, which is less grand than the Royal Circle, and even further away from the stage than the Stalls.

Still, our tickets had been the right price.

The Shaftsbury Stage:  the sky and the earth covered with snow

Of all of the events we have attended since I have been here, this one took the most energy from us.

The English subtitles to the show ran by on a marquee, too fast for us to both enjoy the show and to enjoy the explanation of the words that were being said in Russian on the stage.

We were watching a three hour folk tale from another culture, and even though we had done our homework, there was much in the fable that we were missing.

The Russian dancing was live – and intricate.

My favourite character was the devil, who in this show, had only one night left to teach people how to sin.  Hard not to be interested in that premise.

Duncan could remember the hero and heroine’s name (Vakula and Oksana) when the play was over, so he gets 10/10 for points from me.

We know every Subway (Restaurant) in town,
ones that are close to a theatre we have been to.

A foot-long subway, drink and chips gave Duncan enough energy to make it home, where he begged his father to make me stop taking him out to see London on the weekends.

I will be leaving in ten days so his life will soon get easier, and some other grandchild’s life will get harder.

Arta

The Back Yard

... a touch of purple in the winter garden ...

I like all of the winter interest in the garden, the brush of purple on one plant, the stems of last year’s flowers, now gone to seed, but still hanging onto nature’s beautiful shape and form.

I have to say I even looked for a spade, for I saw some weeds coming up and thought to myself, it is 10 celsius out here – time to get at those weeds.

I drew myself back from the idea of weeding and kept my mind on the glass that has to come off of the porch.

... hand-made doorbell sign ...

... colour in the front patio..

After hanging out in the back for an hour, sweeping glass and autumn’s now dried leaves (that are bigger than the palm of my hand) into garbage bags, I thought, how fun would this be, to use the BBQ and sit out in the back and eat.

I moved the chair around a bit, just to see how many I could get around that table.

Or even, I thought, it would be fun to just pretend to use the BBQ and pick up a week’s groceries in the two tall bags with wheels that can be run down to the Tesco -- a 10 minute walk away.

The birds are singing – and it is 10 above. No wind. The grass and the ivy are green.

This is a charming house, a comfortable place to stay in the evenings while enjoying whatever I wish to do in London during the days.

Even the front of the house holds interest to me.

green waste only / no hot ashes

I have never seen yards that have two large garbage disposal units that are emptied every week.

One container is for green waste only; the other for garbage and is labeled, “no hot ashes”.

As well there are bins on the other side of the yard, one for paper and one for bottles and plastics.

A strong windstorm blew Rebecca’s bins away and she asked the waste collectors where she could go to buy new ones.

He told her to give the municipality a call, that in 2 to 5 days they would deliver new ones to her, and one hour later we heard the truck drive up and drop them off.

.... LDSC as seen in the panes of the front door of the home ..

We live across from the London Day Surgery Centre (LDSC).  

When I look at the front door, standing on the patio, I can see that side of the street reflected in its pane.

This is the side of the door you will knock on when you arrive, those who have yet to come for a visit. 

Arta

The Back Window

... the broken pane ...

The north facing wall of our kitchen, the one that looks out into the back yard, is all paned window.

All paned until yesterday when only 14 of the 15 panes still had glass in them.

Only a trip on the leg of a chair, a stumble and a hand held out to catch one-self was enough to shatter one of the panes.

The good part is that the arm and the hand that went through the window did not even require a bandage.

A clean entry through the glass and a clean exit.

A call at about 6 pm to have someone come and put in a pane of glass, resulted in a labourer doing it at 10:30 at night – pitch dark out there, except for the lights of the kitchen.

... get me my spade... I will take out those weeds ...

Duncan, Steve and I watched the work done.

I watched in horror.

No protective gloves on his hands, no safety glasses on his face, a hammer, just knocking out the glass by putting his arm through the hole and then taking it out, just hammering at any piece and then letting it fall where it may or tugging at it with his fingers until it fell.

He finished by scooping out the dried putty, putting in the glass and fresh putty and settling up the account with Steve.

“Have you had a chance to listen to the game?” Steve asked.

“No time for that, I have to keep going,” he said and off he went to more broken glass, I presume.

... table and chairs for 4, for a backyard picnic ...

And that is how I made my first visit to the back yard this morning – a chance to pick up the smaller piece of glass.

I hadn’t seen the wooden picnic table for four out there on the patio, nor walked down the path made of gravel and stepping pads, made of rounds of logs.

...ivy on the pergola ...

I had a chance to get my camera up under the pergola, so I only have images of sticks with a few leaves on them, not the greener view that I see on the top floor when looking down at the ivy that encircles it.

Arta