Conkers & 0203

I know it’s World AIDS Day and everything, but I’ve got some more trivial bones to pick. First, conkers: yes, I know the season is over, but I’m gonna harp on it anyway. Ask any Brit what conkers is and I guarantee they’ll act all astonished and say something like, “you’ve never played conkers before?” or “you don’t have conkers in America?” Go ahead, try it. But don’t ask somebody who knows too much about the U.S. of A. I can’t decide whether that’s adorable or annoying. Second: 0203, which is a new London area code as of July 2005 (and, in fact, our area code). Except that nobody over here knows about it. Never mind that this is the 4th time in 14 years that London area codes have actually been changed. Things over here aren’t supposed to change. So I am wrong. Always. Every time. That number on my email signature? Wrong. When I have to fill in my phone number on various forms? Wrong. When I tell somebody to call me on 0203 bla bla bla? Wrong. “I’m sorry,” they say, “but don’t you mean 0207?” That is definitely not adorable, it’s just annoying. BTW, this post brought to you by whinging.

The Right Thing?

It's the day before I go to SF. Steven's supposed to join me Friday for a fun-filled week-long purge 'n pack. Wondering whether we're doing the right thing. My shrink thinks it's last minute jitters and I'm inclined to agree. But you never know. Could be the biggest mistake we've ever made. If you have any words of encouragement, please email Mr. Overman. He needs 'em. Steven underscore Overman at Jackmorton dot com.

In addition to shaving off my brow again (adds a nice symmetry to the whole experience - also, that brow merkin might not be a bad investment after all), the skin on my left hand has started peeling off (eew, gross). Don't think it's flesh-eating bacteria. Could be the hard-as-nails water. Probably stress. Wound up getting briefly snagged in some internet moving scam. Today found out from Thierry at First Line in Paris that animals normally travel only on weekdays. I'm due to arrive on a Saturday. Hurrah. Could any of the legion of BA or BA Cargo (separate entity) representatives in New York, San Francisco, London, and (most likely) Bangalore have told me that before today? Or maybe before I booked my ticket from SF to Paris? Of course not. What kind of nonsense is that? Information? Useful? Timely?

Oh, well. What're ya gonna do? Here's some eye candy:

Brixton market mosaic

Hadn't realized Sainsbury's was a Klingon-owned company...

Took another ride on TC2, up the Grand Union Canal to somewhere around Wembley.
This is where the canal becomes a bridge over an 8-lane freeway. Yikes!

Holland Park flower bed
This was the day I walked down to the pet store off Kensington High Street to stock up on Alice supplies in preparation for her arrival in London on the 17th. If BA Cargo or any of their Paris agents can manage to put a cat on a plane on Saturday. But you know the French and their work ethic...

Subway by the Imax again. No, really, it's cool!

Notting Hill Carnival
I've got a video clip of this, but until I figure out how to get it on the blog, you'll have to keep looking back & forth between these two pictures and pretend.

Are we doing the right thing? I don't know, but that's Alicia Silverstone reflected in the window of Julie's. I was staring all through dinner. What did you say, Steven?

Trials, Tribulations

A lot of stuff happened over here before I started writing this blog. Maybe now's a good time to touch on some of it, since I've just managed to get one item sorted: our TV license, or should I say lecenses? I believe I mentioned early on that you have to pay Big Brother to watch TV, and I'm not talking HBO. We've had two licenses for a while now, and gosh darn it I wanted my £121 back! So they're mailing me a refund form. We'll see what happens...

And what better time than right after I've just topped up to mention dishwasher salt? Hello?

Oh, and then there was the whole biological (bio) vs. non-biological (non-bio) laundry detergent thing, which nobody could explain to my satisfaction (god forbid they actually put any useful information on the bloody package). I finally found the answer myself. Thanks, Persil!

No idea if I mentioned that they way you get around London is with an Oyster card... Why "Oyster"? By the time I figure that one out, I'll be talking like Madonna.

The Evidence

Easier said than done, kids. The gizmos don't play well together. Like even though the phone and the Palm have bluetooth, they don't talk to each other. Also, the phone won't speak to the iBook. So I have to email myself the picture. It's a pain, plus who knows how much it costs to email from the phone? They're not really big on useful information here. In any case, Steven & I are going to some tennis thing -- we're supposed to be there in 15 minutes. And I'm going to meet all the colleagues with this:

Brow Lite™

Bear in mind that the 5-o'clock brow shadow makes it look better in this picture than it does in real life. Also, I trimmed down the other one so as to appear less freakish (perhaps making myself appear even more freakish in the process).