It's sunny and warm today -- 69F (21C) with thin clouds in the pale blue sky. At last, I think I can safely say that winter is over. It's not that the weather was so awful this winter. Apart from the freak October Snowmageddon, which had me without power for 36 hours and left a trail of damage across New England, it was actually pretty mild with nowhere near our usual snowfall. However, this winter packed a punch on my wallet.
In February, Sadie the cat began having bouts of puking and diarrhea. These things are usually self-limiting in cats, but after five days of it I took her to her vet, who did x-rays (no sign of blockage) and recommended an ultrasound at Tufts Veterinary School. We had an appointment all set up for the next Monday, but Sadie took a turn for the worse and I drove her to Grafton on a Saturday morning and took her in through the ER. She spent two days in the Foster Hospital for Small Animals, where her team of five doctors and vet students got her stabilized on an IV, gave her meds to calm her tummy and chill out the diarrhea, and tested her from end to end. Based on the ultrasound, they diagnosed her with irritable bowel disease (not a real surprise, as this is a cat who has always had emotional issues) and sent her home with some nasty antibiotics and a prescription diet of new or "novel" protein -- venison and peas. She put up a stink about the antibiotics, but has really taken to the new food and is back to her old self.
Just after I paid off the massive vet bills, I discovered that my 30-year-old refrigerator had died and everything in the freezer had thawed out. All those containers of tomatoes, peppers, and pesto that I'd put up last summer had turned to slush. I now have a shiny, new black Darth Vader-esque fridge, the bill for which I paid off in March, not two weeks before having to put new brakes in the Mini Cooper. I am now skint.
At one point, between the vet bills and the death of the fridge, I was still holding out (slim) hope that I might be able to go to London in May, but quickly realized that wasn't going to happen. Much in need of a get-away, I'm instead going to take a little holiday later this month and mooch off my pals Jeanne and Tim in the swampland of North Carolina. Some of you might remember my posts about a long weekend I spent down there in 2009, puttering around New Bern and driving in the pickup truck through the lowlands and backwater towns. For this trip, I'm working up a list of sights that should be amusing, edifying, and full of photo ops, including:
I'll try to write a post or two or three while I'm there, so watch this page for further developments.
I finally got to have a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich, purchased for only £1 from Boots at Terminal 4. It was quite enjoyable. Getting to Terminal 4 was another story. Read on.My original plan was to save money and take the tube to Heathrow on Sunday, but I realized that planned engineering works on half the tube lines would make that next to impossible. So, I took the #36 bus to Paddington Station and planned to catch the 10:13 a.m. Heathrow Connect (the same train I rode in from Heathrow on). At the station, I went to the area where I'd emerged from platform 10 or 11 on my arrival day, and saw a bunch of temporary barricades in front of the turnstiles there. So, I looked around for a Heathrow Connect ticket office and didn't see one, but did spy the Heathrow Express ticket office. At the window, I asked the ticket agent where I needed to go for the Heathrow Connect, and she told me that it wasn't running due to planned engineering works. Bugger! I then had to pay £18 for a ticket on the (faster) Express rather than the £8.50 that the (slower) Connect would have cost me. But the Express trains run more often and I hopped on the 9:40, which got me to Terminals 1-3 in about 20 minutes. As the train pulled into the platform at Heathrow, we heard an announcement saying, "Passengers for Terminal 4 should exit the train, cross the platform and immediately board the train at platform 2." So I did, following two people who had gotten off my train. Another woman got on behind me, just as the doors shut in her husband's face and the train pulled away, leaving him and their luggage on the platform. A member of staff was in the carriage near where those of us who got on last were standing, and the woman (an American) started asking him what she should do, as her husband had their tickets. He said that her husband could just catch the next train and they could meet at the end. He phoned someone to alert them to the situation. It then dawned on me that this woman was headed into town, so I asked if the train would be stopping at Terminal 4. No, it wouldn't. We were headed back to Paddington. The two men (also Americans) who had gotten on with me then piped up and said that they needed to go to Terminal 4 as well. The member of staff assured us that we could just get off the train at Paddington, wait a few minutes while they joined some other carriages to our train, and then get back on and go back to Heathrow. About this time the conductor came along, a very nice man who told us that people get confused and make this mistake all the time, especially on Sunday as that is the ONLY DAY that trains going back to Paddington share platform 2 with the trains for Terminal 4. Back at Paddington, we waited for about 5 minutes before the train left again at 10:25 a.m.. When we got to Heathrow, there was no train yet on platform 2. While I was waiting, I looked up and saw the departure boards above my head, showing the alternating trains. A train pulled in and a different member of staff clearly announced that it was the train for Terminal 4, which got us there in no time. I looked at my watch as I finished checking my bag -- 11:05 a.m., which was probably exactly the time I'd be doing this if I'd been able to catch the Heathrow Connect in the first place.Everything else about the journey went smoothly, although slowly. The plane to Boston was coming in from Paris, and was delayed due to fog in London. Although we boarded and took off about 1/2 hour late, we landed in Boston pretty much on time. The queues at immigration moved quickly, my bag was one of the first to arrive on the carousel, and going through customs was a breeze, with only a sweater and a book to declare. I had to wait well over 1/2 hour for the Logan Express bus to Framingham, where my car was parked, but our jovial driver Dave got us there in no time flat. I left the Massport lot at about 6:30 and walked in my front door at 8 pm -- exactly 16 hours after leaving Spooner's -- where I was met by much meowing from Sadie.
Note to self: Don't travel into or out of London on a Sunday ever again. And don't blindly follow groups of Americans anywhere. And, as John Betjeman said, always look up.
Expenses:£18 for Heathrow Express£1 for tuna & sweetcorn sandwich£1.05 for bottle of water$110 to park the car in Framingham$250 for Sadie's critter sitter5,958 steps (mostly in Heathrow)2.29 miles on foot
It's hard to believe that my nine days in London are almost over. The time went so quickly, yet it was long enough for me to feel the closest to being a real Londoner that I've ever felt. Yesterday (Saturday) morning, while Spooner was at the steam bath getting all remaining traces of buffalo, pig and soil out of his pores, I took the two yarn bombs that I'd brought from home down to Meanwhile Gardens. I found good places to attach them -- I put a green one with leaf pattern on a metal railing near the pond, and a striped one on a hand-made stick railing in the wildlife garden. As I was sewing them in place, a young man did Tai Chi on the platform above the pond near my first location, and the birds and squirrels scurried and hopped around my feet at the second spot. My friend Helen used to come to Meanwhile Gardens, and to the stretch of canal next to it, often to photograph the birds, plant life, and the reflections in the water. I like to think she would have noticed my yarn bombs straight away, and would have smiled and approved of my creative mischief in her garden. In the afternoon, Spooner and I went to two art events that bring street art indoors. The first was the Moniker Art Fair at the Village Underground in Shoreditch. We also walked around the car park behind Holywell Lane and looked at what was new on the walls there. Neither indoors nor out was as good as last year, but we saw some interesting things. After that, we rode the bus across London Bridge, walked through Borough Market for some nibbles (much of which was free samples of chutney, cheese and bread from various vendors), and took another bus over to Waterloo to see The Minotaur in the Old Vic Tunnels under the train tracks. Some of it was cool, some creepy, and some puzzling. Another long bus ride took us to Hampstead for dinner with Greg and Esther at a nice little French bistro where we'd all eaten together a couple years ago. It was a great meal, with lovely company, and a very nice way to end my trip.I managed to see most of the people I wanted to meet up with, though I really regret not seeing the ones I missed. I ticked off most of the things on my massive list of exhibitions, historic spots, markets and rambles. The places I didn't get to will just have to go onto the list for the next trip. Except for the first couple of days, my back held up and didn't ache. I didn't lose anything or get lost. The weather was decent -- no real rain to speak of, and the final two days were full of blue skies and sunshine. And I didn't wear my rain boots once.Big thanks to Spooner and all my mates who made this such a fab trip.Expenses:£5 last top-up on my Oyster£2 spinach packet at Borough Market£10 tix (2) for the Old Vic Tunnels£17 dinner and wine17,738 steps6.99 miles
The most amazing thing happened yesterday as Maggie and I were getting off the train in Guildford. We were standing in the aisle, waiting for the carriage doors to open, when Maggie whispered, "Look who that is." I looked at the backs of men's heads ahead of us and wasn't sure who she meant until she pointed discretely at the bowler hat in the hand of the gentleman right in front of her. It was Maxwell Hutchinson! My American readers won't appreciate the magnitude of this occasion, but my Brit mates will know him as the architect who comes on the Robert Elms Show on BBC London every week to talk about buildings and history and all sorts of interesting things about London. When we found ourselves on the platform, walking right next to him and the other man he was with, I did something I never do -- I turned to him and said, "Excuse me, Mr. Hutchinson. I listen to you every Tuesday on the radio on my computer in Massachusetts" and I stuck out my hand to shake his. At first he looked a bit taken aback, but then he replied, "My goodness! What are you doing here in Guildford all the way from Massachusetts?" We told him we'd come to see the George Frederic Watts Gallery and the Watts Chapel. He then said, "As long as you've come all this way, you must see the Cathedral." Although we knew this wasn't in our plan, we told him that, on his recommendation, we would try to do. I then said how lovely it was to meet him and we went our separate ways. I, of course, was grinning ear to ear. The rest of the day just got better and better. Blue skies, bright sunshine, warm air -- the best weather of my visit. Maggie and I waited a few minutes for Ray to arrive by bus from his home in nearby Woking. We then took the local bus to the small village of Compton. Actually, we never saw Compton itself, getting off the bus at the Watts Gallery on a little lane, I assume just outside the village. I didn't know much about G.F. Watts other than that he was responsible for the creation of the Memorial to Heroic Self Sacrifice in Postman's Park in London, a place I visit often and really love. There is a wall of plaques in the back of the park, each made of Doulton ceramic, that commemorates in just a few words an ordinary person who died in the act of saving another. I wasn't aware that Watts is considered one of Britain's greatest painters. Apparently, many Brits don't know of him either, I imagine somewhat because his allegorical or heroic subjects seem old fashioned to our modern eyes. After seeing the gallery and having lunch in the tea room, we set out on foot for the chapel designed by Watts's wife Mary. This small funeral chapel is said to be one of the best examples of British Arts and Crafts architecture, and Maggie and I had been wanting to see it for ages. We walked all around it, inside and out, gazing at (and photographing) the amazing details. The cemetery there is also lovely and peaceful, on a hillside looking out over fields below. Then a guided tour group of old dears arrived and the spell was broken. Ray had suggested we take the bus to Compton, uphill all the way, and walk back downhill to Guildford along the footpaths. We couldn't have asked for a better day to do this. Much of our walk was along Sandy Lane, a well-named sandy, one-lane road, which made for some interesting maneuvers when trucks came from both directions, with the three of us sandwiched between them. Eventually we reached the towpath along the River Wey and followed that back into Guildford just as the sun was sinking low. Expenses:£13.90 cheap day return ticket for Guildford£2.20 bus to Compton£7.50 for Watts Gallery£5.00 for egg mayonnaise sandwich on granary bread in the tea room£1.45 for late afternoon beverage20,966 steps8.27 miles
I'm writing a second post today because I have to be out the door really early tomorrow. I'm meeting my pal Maggie at Waterloo to take the train to Guildford, where we'll meet up with Ray and go to Compton to see the George Frederic Watts Gallery and the Watts Chapel.This was the day without a plan, the day to do whatever I hadn't worked in on other days. It turned out to be a day with a lot of seeing but not much walking, which is ok because I know I will more than make up for it on our walk tomorrow. Just before I left home, I read about the new exhibition at the British Museum by Grayson Perry, about whom I knew absolutely nothing, called The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman. I'm running out of superlatives, but I must say that this was one of the best exhibitions I've ever seen. I totally enjoyed Perry's "love of stuff." This was all about a pilgrimage made with his teddy bear, named Alan Measles, to Germany and through time to other pilgrimage spots around the globe. But it's all imaginary and done through story telling, connecting artifacts and objects from the British Museum's collection to new objects made by Perry for the exhibition to examine shrines, talismans, totems, and other pieces of craftwork in a new context. It's hard to explain, but it was really fun. Photos from the Guardian here. From there I wandered through Bloomsbury, up to the Euston Road, where I stopped in to the Elizabeth Garrett Anderson Gallery (she was the first woman doctor in the UK) and the crypt gallery at St Pancras Parish Church. In the EGA Gallery I learned about the founding of the first hospital in London for women and staffed by women. In the crypt gallery, I saw and heard some cool and creepy stuff that had something to do with the descent into the dark. I then revisited the Wellcome Collection to spend more time in the Charms and Miracles exhibition. When I was on the Number 7 bus in the morning, headed towards the British Museum, we passed Selfridges with its window displays for the Museum of Everything, which I had on my list of things to see but had forgotten about. So I stopped there on my way back home at the end of the day. It's all outsider art. Nothing special. Kind of ho-hum. Back at the flat, I warmed up the goat cheese and veg pie that I bough the other day at one of the markets we visited. I'm now going to watch a bit of Downton Abbey and then turn in. Expenses:£10 for Grayson Perry exhibition at the British Museum£3.40 for tat at the BM shop£2.20 for a spinach roll at a farmers market in Torrington Square13,962 steps5.5 miles
