Can't Hold a Candle to Carrying a Torch

Earlier in the week, the Olympic torch relay went within a 100 metres of our flat.  The first picture shows the turn into our road, except for all the people blocking it to watch the torch.  I had this idea in my head that the torch relay was one continuous route.  It isn't like I was expecting them to run in the middle of the night.  But I did think that they would start off in the morning from where they stopped the previous night.  But in preparing to watch the torch go by, I learned that the flame travels at night by van to a new starting point every day.  So the running relay is not continuous: they are little unconnected segments.  I liked it better when I thought it was an uninterrupted continuous route.  

Whilst waiting for the flame to arrive, at first, a police motorbike occasionally rode by.  Then there were a few with their lights on.  Then a series of vehicles.  One with a music and dancers on it.  Then a few people waving flags.  Then nothing.  I was beginning to think I missed it.  

But after a huge gap, more police and more albeit less conspicuous vehicles came by.  After another long gap, four police motorbikes stopped nearly in  front of me.  Two minutes later, a tall slender blonde man dressed all in white jogged slowly by with the torch ablaze.  Then he was gone.   

Moth Cottage

Our current flat is only slightly smaller than our previous one.  It has a bedroom with a strange little alcove where all the windows are.  When standing in it, it feels like a drive up window… would you like fries with that?  But the light it provides is quite nice.  The boiler cupboard is in here too.  It has slatted removable wooden shelves that run all the way up to the ceiling that to me looks like a colossal waste of space.  However, we learned from Dan, the boiler repair man that it is an airing cupboard.  Who knew!

We have divided the living room into three zones:  lounge, office, and dining.  There is a little foyer… and a kitchen featuring a hob, oven, washer, dryer and a fridge/freezer.  Of course, there is a toilet, which by marital stipulation is inside the flat.

As for the moths, I am convinced that they arrived with the Ikea delivery.  Every week or so I capture another dozen for release into the green that is Surbiton:

Yes, this video is about Surbiton

Naticia

I booked a classic afternoon tea on board the Naticia as a surprise for my lovely wife upon our return from Stratford-upon-Avon.  The boat was quite nice.  We had a table right on the window on the upper deck of the port side.  The views were very nice indeed and a pianist played for the duration of the cruise.  The view of London from the water never fails to surprise me.  I had a lapsang souchong that was exquisite.  It is my new favourite tea.

The one negative is that there seemed to be a service blunder resulting in a huge gap of time between the sandwiches and the sweets.  They also failed miserably at allergy concern. Despite having made a note when I booked on line, the information never reached the staff.  And even though I told the waiter we had nut allergies, we were still served macaroons (made of almonds) and carrot cake drizzled with walnuts which had spilled onto the neighboring eclair.  Luckily, there was no time to eat the sweets as they served them so late.  But it was an overall positive experience nonetheless.  

Richard III

For my beloved's birthday, we travelled to Stratford-upon-Avon to see Richard III by Royal Shakespeare Company.  My favourite part about going to Stratford with her is that when we arrive she is the adult version of what I imagine she was like when she arrived at Disney World as a child:  brimming with excitement and wanting to go to all the attractions at once.   

I don't see the RSC as frequently as she does.  But whenever I do it is always an amazing experience.  Often when I see a play by other companies, there is an actor that captures my attention.  But when I see the RSC, they are all so fantastic, they all do.  

The performance was in the Swan Theatre which is a small theatre with undersized bench seating.  Despite sitting as far to the right as I possibly could, the large man to my left had no choice but to occupy half my seat.  He was in a party of four who were all large, so it was a cumulative effect.  And when I say large, they were not American large…certainly near the border with obese, but definitely not morbidly so.  I thought several times that I should probably introduce myself as it seems wrong to cuddle with someone for three hours and not at least know his name.  I was lamenting the uniqueness of my dilemma until I spied the rest of the audience, well, the audience to my right anyway.  But in every row, there were several people who looked exactly how I felt.  

The three-quarter seats were otherwise awesome: third row front.  The visual effect of the rising balconies on such an intimate space was stunning.  The scenery was sparse so the the acting was at the fore.  And as usual, RSC made sure the language took centre stage.  Only one character is developed in this play, that of the lead role: Richard, Duke of Gloucester who during the course of the play becomes king and is killed at Bosworth field.  The killing of Richard III marks the rise of the House of Tudor to the throne, which still held the monarchy when Shakespeare wrote it. So it was very PC to heap dispersions onto the preceding House of York.  

Jonjo O'Neill's portrayal of Richard delightfully relishes his role as a caricature.  The rest of the cast are cohorts in the hyperbole and really draw the audience into Richard's ambition.  So complete is the cast resigned to the momentum of Richard's ascension, when Henry VII is finally crowned on Bosworth field, it is he that seems monstrous when he speaks of pardon, prosperous days, and peace in his short speech after watching three hours of the opposite.  The play is a great success on every count save one: three hours is a long time to be seated in even a comfortable seat.  I challenge Roxana Silbert to occupy the audience space for the run time of her play under the same conditions that the audience does.  In the Swan, such an experience approaches painful… even with the cuddle.

Photo Credits:
Jonjo O'Niell, Express & Star
Pippa Nixon, The Guardian
Paola Dionisotti, Royal Shakespeare Company

Wellcome Collection

Oops, I got out of order on my blog backlog.  At the end of May, several of my colleges in the Occupational Therapy Department at the Royal Hospital for Neuro-disability organised an outing to the Wellcome Collection's Brains Exhibition at University College London.  The evening started at The Dolphin on Bidborough Street with a very reasonably priced pub Thai meal.  Anytime you find a reasonably priced meal in central London is a notable event.  On arrival we split up.  I was intrigued by two things in particular.  One was an ancient skull that had what looked like a hole scraped into it.  They had ancient tools along side it.  Apparently this is a practice called trephination and there is evidence that it was being done more than 8000 years ago.  I had no idea.  I always thought of the practice of cerebral shunting so sophisticated... apparently not so much.  The other thing that caught my attention was a surgical training film that showed a craniotomy.  I want to say it was from the 1930s but I cannot remember for sure.  I just remember that it was quite old.  I was struck by how little has actually changed.  I think another reason I found it fascinating was that I was looking at a living brain.  Well, OK, it was a film of a living brain.   Well, OK, it a film of a brain that was alive 80 years ago and is probably not any more, but it was living at the time.

Photo Credit:
Wellcome Collection