Bubbling Over in Midtown

It's spring, but you could have fooled me! Still, the calendar says that it'll be warmer soon. I shall try to believe it.

One thing the area around my job was sorely missing was a proper bubble tea place. Actually, we don't have a decent tea anything nearby besides a couple of decent retail establishments in walking distance. I don't count hotels, because one does not take afternoon tea in the space of an hour's lunch break.

I'm not the biggest bubble tea person, but once in a while I get a hankering, especially when the weather's a bit balmy. Now I have a little place to satisfy said hankerings, and I won't even have to break a sweat.

It's called Coco Fresh Tea and Juice, and I believe it's a chain from Taiwan. The two times my sister and I stopped in there, it was already hopping but not crazy busy. Everyone else inside was Asian, and mostly thinner than myself (how is that possible?!), which seem to be points in favor of it.

So far I've tried the black milk tea and a jasmine milk tea, both of which were absolutely refreshing and delicious. Personally I prefer these without the bubbles (tapioca pearls) - not because they taste bad but the chewiness gets tiresome after a while. Plus, I keep thinking one of them will shoot through the straw down my wind pipe. But this is my neurosis.

Everything's reasonably priced, especially for Manhattan. So I welcome this open.


Side note (Funny Name): I also had a bubble tea with crepes in Forest Hills not long ago. This too was fine, but the name's unfortunate: Crepes 'N' Tearia. Imodium anyone?

Freddie & Me... and Me

First of all, let me just say there is still good reason for paper books and libraries. I regularly put books on hold, and when they arrive I pick them up at the nearest branch to my place of work. It's very convenient, as I used to actually travel to different branches and between Queens and Manhattan, and that's exhausting!
Well, recently I was picking up some books in the reserved section and saw the title of a book that was on hold for someone else. Nosy me picked it up. The title was Freddie and Me: A Coming of Age (Bohemian) Rhapsody. Now of all the book-related websites I've been on, including Amazon which loves to Recommend books you Might Like, I'd never heard of this book. Good job we still have paper books and brick-and-mortar locations, or I'd still be unaware. And what a book for me not to know about!

Second of all, something not everyone knows about me is that I actually like Graphic Novels. It's not my favorite genre, but I do have a tiny collection in my home library. I haven't bought a comic book in years, because I think they're overpriced, but once they're grouped together in a book I'll give it a shot. It's like not watching a TV show when it's aired, but waiting till the DVD of the season is out in the summer. And since I do enjoy curling up with the occasional autobiography, it's great to see both forms of expression come together. But we're not referencing Beatles songs here; today it's all about Queen.

Though the artist/writer, Mike Dawson, became a rapid Queen fan earlier in his life than I did, I related too well to the madness that ensues once you get far too fond of a band. And just like Queen songs became a soundtrack to his formative years, I can't think of my mid-teens without hearing Freddie Mercury's voice - even some of the more ridiculous tracks are there, and in this book. I cracked up when he reacts to a certain word in 'Death on Two Legs'. It's not as much of a shocker as it used to be, which makes it all the more affecting.

I was also surprised at Dawson's memories of memory itself. That's hard to explain. Personally, I've always been a little afraid of forgetting early memories, and resolved not to at a very young age. Then I read this line in his book:

"The reason I can still remember being afraid of losing my memories is because I made a conscious decision to do so. I remember the day I was doing it."

And then he goes on to explain how he pictures things to remember them. Catherine much? It makes me wonder if Queen fans are all cut from the same cloth. Sadly, I cannot draw, unless you count that horrible blob of Zenobia I scribble on pages from time to time.

I'm not sure if non-Queen fans would appreciate Freddie & Me, but if you favor the Bildungsroman stories you might. And if you don't know what that word means, you're not alone. I've never heard it spoken, but any word that has 'dung' in it is worth knowing. (And if you don't like it, you could say it's full of crap!)

I only have one criticism, and it's only because I'm an extreme stickler for dates. He has his teenaged self going to school the day he finds out about Freddie Mercury having AIDS, as well as the next day when he dies. My recollections of November 1991are extremely clear - it was a really important month in my life. And those dates fall on Saturday and Sunday. But he can draw, and I can't, so...artistic license I guess.

So what kind of tea would I sip with this book? Well, I know Freddie Mercury was a tea drinker, but the only specific type of tea I've ever read about in reference to him was an anecdote in which he drank jasmine tea. And I don't need an excuse to drink jasmine scented green tea!

Henrietta Sees it Through and a Pairing

This is the review I posted on Library Thing:

Reading stories written in epistolary form makes me yearn for the old letter writing days, though I don't think I'd have been thrilled to live in England during the last years of WWII. This book is a sequel to the first series of letters, which I haven't read, but I picked up the pace quickly enough.

It's a combination of tongue-in-cheek and stiff-upper-lip that only the English can master. Henrietta is a middle-aged doctor's wife. She is not the most conventional woman but she tries to carry on amidst the ridiculousness of wartime. She tends faithfully to a garden, puts up with evacuees and difficult neighbors, and finds solace in her friendship with the wonderfully full-figured and elderly Lady B.

It's my second Bloomsbury Group Early Reviewers book, and this one did not disappoint either. Even though there is some tragedy here and there, and a harrowing story of a cat and a mouse that echoed my own trials of last week, every letter ends on a cheeky high note.

From what I've read, the Henrietta stories were semi-autobiographical, a way for the author to cope herself. Hope it helped.


I finished this book last week, and in trying to think of a tea that would pair well with it today I kept coming up with herbals, since that's all I've been drinking due to a nasty head cold. Then I remembered a humourously illustrated scene in the book where a woman is bring an Evacuee staying at her home Blackcurrant Tea because they had a cold. She ended up taking a nasty spill on the stairs, ending up in a 'Crumpled Heap'. I'd hate to think of what happened to the teacup. So in sympathy to all involved, I'd say a nice Blackcurrant would do quite well, whether it's a black flavored or a tisane.

In Astoria? In which I mention many local businesses...

I passed by the site of the former Himalayan Tea House, the place that had a decent menu but not much else, not to mention crazy hours. I don't miss it like I thought I would. Besides, with places like Bare Burger and Il Bambino right there, I almost didn't notice it was gone. Even so, its absence has especially impressed in me the need for a proper tea place in Astoria. Now when I say Astoria, I am referring to my neck of the woods, near the heart of Steinway Street, a quick walk from Woodside and Long Island City.

Speaking of which, Cafe Triskell (best crepes in town and a nice tea menu) and Panera Bread are close to my criteria, but they're straddling LIC, and Martha's Bakery is bit of a walk away for me on a rainy day. Gian Piero's is nearby, but for me that's strictly to go; some of the clientele are dirty old mannish. And therein is another problem with my area: they're either patronised by hipsters or men who just make me feel uncomfortable. So what's the compromise? Starbucks? I'm not anti-Starbucks, even so, it's Starbucks.

There are other places I like in roll-out-of-bed walking distance from me, but they lean toward brunch and full-on meals, and I wouldn't feel comfortable just getting tea and cake if that's all I wanted. Is that just me being insecure? Maybe a little. But speaking of which, there's still a few surviving diners/coffee shops nearby, but heaven forfend you come alone - it's the counter for you! I loathe dining at the counter, especially alone.

So what's the solution? Can someone open a little place near me that would satisfy my tea needs? It really doesn't have to be frilly - that's also intimidating...not for me, but I'd like a good variety of people to be comfortable in this mythical place. Something like the former Shane's Bakery in Woodside. They had scones, people! It was like the Irish Tea and Sympathy. Why did it close?! Even if it was still open, it was still to far away from me.

I guess this post is a bit of a rant, with a touch of daydreaming. You just can't have it all. I mean, I waited for years for someone to open bookstore/cafe in my neighborhood, and with the closing of a bunch of Borders, this looks less possible than ever. I will sigh now, and wait patiently for suggestions/recommendations.

Cozy Mondays? and a Pairing

After a relatively busy and responsible weekend, I decided to have a relaxing Monday in. One bonus is that finally it snowed on a day off! It wasn't a crazy snow day, but I'll use it as an excuse to be indoors and cozy.

It started off quite well. I caught up on some reading, and then I popped in a Sherlock Holmes (Jeremy Brett) DVD to watch an episode I hadn't managed to watch in years. So far, so good. Then I noticed Zenobia stalking a corner and I knew the end of relaxation was nigh. If it had been a waterbug, I would have screamed of course, but it would've been quick work. But a smart bug in trouble would've climbed up the wall to get away. Nope. It was a not too smart little mouse that put me through a wild ride, and was later to give a run for a supportive friend's money too. Let's just say it was not a pretty sight, and I got to demonstrate my awesome screaming skills. I know none of this rests with reason: I live with two much larger creatures every day, and Zenobia's the same color of the dearly deceased critter, complete with claws. Anyway, the whole fracas cost me at least three hours of my cozy day.

Holmes ended up being therapy afterwards, and put me in mind of a book I read this month, The Sherlockian by Graham Moore. A new member of an exclusive Sherlock Holmes fan club investigates a murder of another member, who just happened to have recently announced he'd found the lost Arthur Conan Doyle diary. This plot takes turns in chapters with an investigation Doyle gets involved in at the time of the missing diary, along with his friend Bram Stoker, who hasn't yet found fame with a certain horror novel that didn't require glitter. Jeremy Brett was mentioned once, which was enough reason to keep on going. People who both enjoy Sherlock Holmes stories or are avid fans of any writer would likely have fun with this book. I mentioned this in another review, but I'll repeat it here: there was a conversation between a man and a woman about the nostalgic fascination with past times. I've watched episodes of Brett's Holmes and drooled over his study and the morning coats along with the clip clopping of the horses on the cobblestone and yearned to experience that time period for myself. The point raised in the novel I'd considered myself: it wouldn't have been as fun for a woman. You'd have to wear corsets and put your hair in those updos...if you're fortunate you might be Mrs. Hudson!

The tea I'd pair with The Sherlockian is (obviously?) the Baker Street Blend from Upton. It's made from a few different black teas, including Lapsang Souchong. Normally I don't like Lapsang Souchong, but in a blend it's just right. Normally I'm cautious about Sherlock Holmes pastiches, but The Sherlockian is only slightly so.



After a nervewracking game of Caths and Mouse, however, I might just settle down with a cup of peppermint tea.

Pairings

I'm an indoor person, though I like my nice long walks. This time of year I am even more firmly ensconced, curled up on a sofa as far away from the piles of snow as I can get...whenever I can help it. Time to catch up on my reading! And what better accompaniment to a good book than a soothing cup of tea.

Though I'm not the ultimate wine or even tea pairing expert, I like to think every book has its perfect tea match. I haven't done too many book reviews here recently, so I thought I'd kick start it once again with a tea/book pairing series.




The Brontes Went to Woolworth had gone out of print for a while, but was reissued last year. I'm glad it was. Though certainly not the most realistic plot I've ever come across, it was really charming. It centers around three sisters, who develop whole stories around imaginary friends. These friends are mostly real people who they've read about in newspapers, or saw in a role of public office. They develop their own little fan fictions around these people, mostly for the benefit of the youngest daughter.

As a middle child of an imaginative family of three sisters, I felt right at home with the Carnes. I'm not sure everyone would be comfortable with the idea of how believable their made-up acquaintances were to them (though some were, in fact, living breathing people, as we get further reminding of as the story goes on.) I loved it, because in a way I can identify. As a child, I saw a photo of a bank president, gave him a whole new name and pretended he was my husband. It's a mystery to me why I chose him, but that made the Carnes so relatable to me. Those who can't relate could commiserate with the poor governess, who just doesn't understand what's going on, and why the girls indulge themselves in fantasy to that degree. For a moment, actually, the point of view threw me off, as it began with Deidre's (the middle girl) first person, then occasionally moved to third with Miss Martin and others. After a while I got into the swing of things.

The story gave an answer to a number of "what ifs" I confronted when transitioning from childhood into adulthood. Also, without giving away any spoilers, coming from a less innocent time, I almost suspected something sleazy would occur between the daughters and the object of their imaginings. I'm quite glad I was wrong.

A highly lighthearted but not entirely sugarcoated read.

As one of the sisters' real life imaginary friends was a judge they affectionately called 'Toddy', I recommend a hot tea toddy, perfect for a cold winter's day and with just enough kick of rum to add to the whimsy of it all. If you're a teetotaller, you might try a nursery tea, with lots of milk and sugar.

Royaltea

I've known about the Orangery for years and years, and knew that I'd have to get over there for Afternoon Tea someday. You'd think I would have found a way to make time for such a visit, but there was always some reason or other for not being able to make it. I wouldn't say lack of funds - I specifically budget for tea breaks wherever I go. When you get down to it, though, I'd say that it was just too close to the Muffin Man, and while you can't go to both places in one day (you can't!), it's also not feasible to "do" Kensington twice in one trip.

Amazing what a little determination will do...

The Orangery is a separate building, but part of Kensington Palace; a tea room derived from a former orangery. I wish I knew where they got the name from...

For those of you who are into the Royal thing, Queen Victoria grew up in Kensington Palace, and Princess Diana lived there. The Orangery was designed for Queen Anne, the last of the Stuart monarchs. A very Queenly place - even Freddie Mercury worked a few blocks down from there! It made sense to go there directly after a morning in the Victoria and Albert Museum.

They were doing renovations in the palace, but in other sections of the edifice there was an Enchanted Palace attraction set up. I'm sure it was lovely. Personally, I thought the little pathways from the palace to the tea room had their own enchantments...

 

 

From the outside, my first thought was ORANGE...though I didn't exactly feel like I'd stumbled into Florida - even if the weather was still perfectly mild. Upon entering, we were simply drenched in white...everything's white...it's almost too pristine. It's a good thing there's no dress code, or it would be kind of intimidating. I mean, I enjoy dressing up for tea, and I wouldn't want to look sloppy or anything, but perfection has its limits in these situations.

 

 

Bonnie had the Signature Orange Tea, while I opted for the Enchanted Palace Tea. Looking back, I'd say Bonnie made the better choice. You get about the same amount of food, but the desserts are different. She had an eclair and a tart, and I had a shortbread and a rich chocolate cake. My choice was an extra three pounds, and the only real difference was my digestion crisis on the bus a half hour later. But that's the only negative I'm going to say about our experience. Contrasted with the tea at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which in terms of ambiance was the closest comparison, the Orangery actually leaves you satisfied. We managed to bop around a bit later on before actually feeling signs of hunger, whereas after the Met Tea we were ravenous before we left the museum. The staff were friendly - our waiter was from Togo; I don't think I'd ever met anyone from Togo before. The scones were delightful, the sandwiches plentiful, and the desserts were all just wonderful. No complaints about the Darjeeling, either.

I'd go back.

 

 

Blue skies! Still can't get over it.

 

Three months later, I'm almost done with my London 2010 coverage. I plan to include clips from the camcorder that died halfway through the trip, and The Orangery will definitely be featured.

Tate

Of the four main museums this time around, this is the only one I hadn't been to previously. It's not that I didn't want to go before, but there's only so much time, and its location looked so isolated on the map. I'm not against a little commuting, but I need some semblance of schedule!

I'm finding more and more that tube maps are deceiving. They make Pimlico seem further than it is. I decided to brave the supposed long commute, as I'd heard that Tate Britain's Pre-Raphaelite collection was outstanding. Bonnie came along for the ride, though at this point she was fading fast from the combination of a head cold and the temperature finally dropping to London's normal autumnal rates. She kept going with the promise of Wagamama directly after the museum.

First of all, the commute wasn't that long. The walk from the tube station was only slightly lengthy, and we got to see a section of London we'd never seen before.

Let's get the negative out of the way first. The section I'd wanted to see the most, with the majority of the Pre-Raphaelites, was closed for some repairs or Grand Scheme to Disappoint Catherine - take your pick. So it wasn't all grand for me, but there were quite a few unexpected surprises, and mild coincidences.

Beyond a cursory glance at a guidebook, I wasn't sure what was included in Tate's collection, so I was open to pleasant surprises. Here's the first one:

 

Okay, this painting is probably hard to get from the photograph (and I wasn't sure it photography was allowed, so I was covert all the way), but it's called The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke, and was painted by Richard Dadd. Ironically, he was committed to Bedlam after confessing to the murder of his father. Apparently he was a paranoid schizophrenic, but also a recognized talent, and this painting was done while in the hospital.

Dadd's story and his work is interesting (and kind of disturbing) enough, but my connection to this work is that the band Queen named one of their songs after it; and the song is a bit erratic and odd, so now I see the connection. Dadd's poem about the painting seems to share similar lyric to Freddie Mercury's. I've also heard rumors that Mr. Dick of Dickens's David Copperfield is loosely based on Richard Dadd (his full name is similar, too.) Conversely, I read that the characters on the painting may have pictured people in the novel. Chicken or egg, it's still intriguing, considering the fact that it's one of the books of 2010! (Coming sooner or later, my 2010 Books Reviewed...)

Speaking of books, I know that I don't spend a lot of time reading while I'm away. Still, I can't help trying to match books with my trip, and exuberantly picking a few volumes, bravely fitting these inside my luggage. I might regret this when the trip's over and I've barely turned any pages, but I actually managed to make a dent in two books. One of them was Chatterton by Peter Ackroyd. It's not his most well known work, but I'd picked this book up not long after I'd posed for a photo in tribute to the painting 'The Death of Chatterton' by Henry Wallis. I know, it sounds kind of creepy, but hey, it worked for George Meredith, the model for the actual painting, who lived a long life as a writer.

The actual Thomas Chatterton, was rather fascinating. He produced what he called long lost writings from a medieval monk, and people were actually convinced for a bit. His body of work is impressive, especially considering the fact that he was only seventeen years old when he died. Some say he committed suicide, and others believe he accidentally overdosed. Either way, his life, death, and work inspired future poets like Keats and Coleridge, and even Oscar Wilde (wow, I almost burst out in a Smiths song there.) I mean when you get down to it, his death was highly romanticized, but I tend to fall prey to that sensibility here and there. So reading a novel based on this person, and those involved in the famous painting, and mostly took place in London, seemed to fit. And then, what do you know? Look what's in the Tate:

 

 

I think I must have read somewhere that the painting was here, but I was so concerned with painters like Turner, Rossetti, and Millais (whose famous Ophelia, also a death scene, I posed for on the same day as the Chatterton, and whose statue stands right outside Tate Britain), that I'd put this particular work to the back of my mind. Well, that's okay. I like little surprises.

 

V&A

When preparing for my trip to London in October, I brought an autumn coat, figuring it was going to be chilly. I'd only had my 2000 trip to gauge the weather for that time of year, and during that trip it'd been kind of nippy. Though I was pleasantly surprised (and would give a good deal to have similar weather on a day like today), it wasn't the worst thing that one of my favorite activities does not belong to any season. Because even when the hottest day of the year makes a tea room seem uninviting, a museum is climate controlled! (Usually)

Bonnie and I visited four museums in one week, and we possibly could have done more. But the skies were blue, and it would have been a shame to miss all that outdoor time.

The Victoria and Albert Museum (or V&A) is a powerhouse of decorative arts. There are collections of paintings, statues, tilework, textiles, furniture, and costumes from all over the world, throughout the centuries. Which means that it's kind of overwhelming to try to take it all in in just one morning. We tried, though!

Incidentally, the V&A has a great gift shop. Of course, the stuff I'd like to own from the museum is on a look, don't touch, and certainly don't take basis. Here's a few of them:

 

I just thought this was apropos: Apollo and the Muses

 

They don't make men's clothes like they used to...

 

Do I even have to caption this? Wish the lighting was better.

 

Elizabethan Claviorgan. Even if you can't play it, it'd look gorgeous in anyone's living room. Probably wouldn't fit most people's living rooms.

Pub

When people go out for a drink with me, I suppose they assume it's gonna be something hot, in pretty china cups, and there might even be lace involved. Of course I'm never one to turn down such an outing.

But this particular Saturday in London, I'd already done the tea thing, and the museum thing...I was kind of done with my regular things. It's after dark, we're hungry so what's two girls and their cousin and wife gonna do in London? Well, we thought we'd try The Sherlock Holmes, a pub/restaurant near Charing Cross (after getting out of the station, you go through some very Holmesian small streets and there it is), but sadly it was still a Saturday night and the restaurant required reservations. Though technically we're tourists, and I'm not against doing some touristy things per se, we didn't want to go anywhere that screams "I've just spend the day taking pictures of Big Ben and I have twenty phone box tchotchkes in this shopping bag!" So we took the middle road, and found a pub called Lord Moon of the Mall that suited us just fine.

Though it was busy, we found a nice table in the back of the back room, and settled in. Then we sorted out the business of ordering food. The menu offered a good amount of choices, including items like burgers that come with a complimentary pint. Not bad. So you give your order at the bar. Now this is the part I find daunting. I've always found bars intimidating, because you have to get someone's attention over a loud crowd of thirsty patrons. I'm hopelessly soft-spoken. Situations like that make me feel like a little mouse in the corner of a dog's poker game (who came up with those paintings?) But I was hungry, and Bonnie was just starting to come down with the ailment that afflicted her throughout our stay, so I manned up.

The next step is, they serve the drinks and the bar. You carry them to your table and wait for them to bring your food. We all ended up wanting fish and chips, which thankfully did not disappoint. I didn't get beer. I hate beer. In fact, if you can find a beer that I'd actually like, the next round would be on me. Until then, I got Strongbow Cider. I'd never had this before; usually when I'm out and want cider I find Magner's, which is fine, but I'm always up for something new to me. And now I'm on the lookout for Strongbow in New York - I'm sure it's here somewhere.

Maybe we were just there on a good day, but for a place that's just down the road from Trafalgar Square, Lord Moon did not have a terribly touristy vibe. I spotted quite a few patrons that seemed to be regulars, reading their newspaper, not a tour guide, with a pint. It felt like a place people could go to and make themselves at home, though I have very little to compare with. I've been to so few real English pubs, especially the ones that could truly be deemed "locals", that I'm afraid I have little authority on these matters. Still, I do know what it's like to be in tourist traps (I work near Grand Central Station and close enough to Times Square)and I didn't have that itchy feeling here. We were completely relaxed, and spent hours just talking amongst our dinner, and later dessert. I had sticky toffee pudding, something you only see in NY in places like Tea and Sympathy. This sweet tooth loved it. And, by the way, the prices were really reasonable, something one seldom finds in London.

The bathrooms were downstairs and eerily cavernous. I expected to turn a corner and find Guy Fawkes plotters (obligatory history reference).




A few snaps:

 

The Before Picture.

 

How could I not feel at home here? This looks like my apartment; just add HP sauce.

 

Cousins! A frameable portrait.

 

Can you spot Big Ben and the Wheel? View from the block of Lord Moon

>

Muffin Man!

Obviously I'm still blogging about London, and nothing but. I'll probably be on this kick for a while (or until I run out of pictures, which will take some time.) Surprisingly, so far I've made little mention of my tea experiences on this trip, and there's a reason for that. I didn't sit around drinking tea the entire time I was there. No, we moved around a lot, and on the more jet-laggy days I even drank coffee (shock!) Of course there were some amazing moments of relaxing with a requisite spot of tea, and here's one of those moments.

There are many places to take tea in London. Duh. The same goes for New York, really, but they've had it down to a science for centuries, where in my hometown its history is more of a love/hate relationship. So it's hard when I get my rare few days every 3-5 years or so to pick places to take tea in my second favorite city ever. I've had suggestions, and ideas for next time (whenever that is). So the plan goes this way: pick an old favorite, and try one new (to me) place. If I can do more than that, great. If not, fine.

Now if I had only one hour to spend in any part of London, it would likely be in Covent Garden. After that, it would be The Muffin Man. It represents to me all that it cozy in Kensington. It's simple, not overpriced, they're generous with the clotted cream, and the scones are THE BEST IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!! Oh, and the tea's good too. They have a small selection of teas, but it's satisfying.

Mind you, I've had not-as-good scones there. It seems this happens every other time. So Visit 1: Amazing, Visit 2: Average, Visit 3: Exquisite, Visit 4: Okay...I think this was Visit 5. Do the math; it was wonderful.

I plan to post a short video of our visit there, but until then, here are some pics. We'd just come from wandering in Holland Park, and it was the ideal next move. Or not move; just staying put for a while.

 

It was open!

 

We had "our table"...the one I've felt most at home with since my first time in 1998. It has the view of Wrights Lane, which is right off of Kensington High Street, and the tube station.

 

The scones, in all their homemade goodness.

 

Sheep

In the course of our week in London, it was Chocolate Week and Wool Week. How can you keep up with all these special weeks when they want to overlap each other? Well, you can eat a surfeit of Cadbury bars whilst cozying up in a nice woolen sweater, I suppose.

Savile Row, known all over the world for men's bespoke tailoring, got down to their roots during the Monday of our visit. They wanted to promote buying real British wool products, I think. This means that Bonnie and I had the luxury of seeing real live sheep without having to bus it to the countryside. Not that I don't like the English countryside, but you see there's only so much one can do with a week!


All we needed was a piglet to turn this into "Babe" (well, some singing mice might help):

 

Ram!

 

The good shepherd,and his loyal napping sheepdogs:

 

 

By Any Other Name

You don't take the subway if you want to get on a train in London. You take the tube, or the underground, or maybe a train. Aside from that, a commute's a commute. There will always be crowds, rude people, service interruptions, and annoying transfers. On my rare visits to London, of course, I tend to travel during the less populated times of the day when I can. It doesn't make the move from point A to B endearing, but at least the various place names and different ads help it along.


Oh, and rest assured you will burn calories if you need to transfer to other lines. It's a massive system!

One question: what happened to the Cadbury machines? They used to be the highlight of my ride. And why did I get a cavity anyway?

 

 

 

 

Chillin' with my Holmesey!!!

HH3

 

Beautiful neighborhood! Can't imagine the mortgage prices in such a place.

 

My very first Yorkshire pudding. It's just a bready matter that went with the Sunday roast. The whole meal was really satisfying, especially after that heady walk in the park. I'm gonna attempt to cook my own roast sometime soon. Oh, and I guess we have proof I'm not a vegetarian!

 

Blue skies, no fog in sight...take that, London naysayers!

 

Words cannot express...

HH2 (Of London Part One)

 

Such a relaxing place to hang on a Sunday afternoon!

 

The first of many crows/ravens I saw during my London stay. I never see them in New York. Well, maybe once or twice.

 

I'm obviously not the only one who found Hampstead inspiring!

 

Fancy a walk?