The New Tricks download to BBC iPlayer finished overnight. Purled a few rows. Toasted a couple hot cross buns (bought at M&S yesterday) for breakfast. Took a quick bath while Susan's wash swished and sloshed.
Bakerloo line to Baker Street. Most other tube lines are disrupted for engineering work. The Jubilee is down completely. Stood in the light rain on Gloucester Road waiting for the X90 to Oxford to rumble up the road from Victoria via Marble Arch.
I might have wanted to be a vet when I was a kid, like Charlie. I speculate the difference between us lies in the 'wanting' rather than the 'vet'. 'Wanting', to me (even then), is a considered deliberate state -- not a passing fancy. And somewhere in there is the thought one can only 'want' what one CAN have. If one cannot have it (by virtue of who one 'is', or one's specific circumstances) even if one wanted it, then there is something flawed about the state of 'wanting' it. (Maybe 'wanting' becomes 'day-dreaming', or something). So 'I want to be a good girl' or 'I want a pair classic sandals' are 'want-able' things, whereas 'I want a pair of $1000 Nikes' or 'I want to be a vet' are not. Or in the case of the vet, are so 'un-knowable' (I do know there are a lot of things that go into becoming -- and being -- a vet, but I don't know what they all are, so am not in a position to evaluate whether or not they are things I can/could have or be or do, and am hence not in a position to 'want' -- or not want -- them).
Talked and purled the ride to Oxford. Arriving home for Susan is the descent down the hill on the edge of the centre of town. We got off at the stop on the High Street. It was still raining lightly.
I'm looking at everybody wearing knits -- to see whether I like them and would I like to knit them. I'm drawn into Brora. Beautiful cashmere knits. The 'ribbed shawl bolero' in 'cocoa' (ie dark brown) feels (and looks) especially good; I like the way the diagonally cut front edge still falls nicely when you pull the cardigan closed over you. The 'ribbed shawl cardigan' in 'cassis' (ie purple) is a little more chic, it's true -- but the bottom edge looks messy when you pull it around you. The 'aran knit coat' has a nice neck/breast line, but the bottom half is too chunky. And the 'long ribbed cardigan' is sleek, but the v-neck line is boring. Oh and - the tweed biker jacket is very cool, a tight knit with a diagonal zipper and overlapping collar. Susan liked the 'moss stitch bolero' -- a little jacket-y thing that rides above the waist and looks nice over a dress.
Susan showed me the Covered Market off High Street, and the store Fasta Pasta where she bought her first fresh pasta (to cook) at the age of 18. Got a crepe (with cheese and mushroom) before we exited and made our way over to the back entrance of the Ashmolean for tea in the roof-top restaurant. The restaurant was so busy that while they typically do start serving tea at 3pm, they weren't today. We took the refurbished stairs down the new light-well, and popped into the European Galleries for a look at the hand-painted pottery from Perugia and Deruta. Susan likes the plates with a central figure and a decorative pattern around the edges. I like the more geometric patterns produced in Delft. And the Minoan octopus on the cover of the brochure.
Continue over to the Pitt-Rivers Museum since it's due to close at 4.30pm. There are massive tree roots on low platforms displayed outside. We pass through the dinosaurs and stuffed birds of the Natural History museum main hall where children are busy cutting out and coloring butterfly shapes. The Pitt Rivers collection of odds and ends, different continents and countries all jumbled together in one case but proving all the more enlightening for it, lies behind. A male 'docent' of Persian aspect and accent (turns out he is from 'Jerusalem') points out a wart cure involving a slug impaled on a thorn to us, from Shropshire. And then he just carries on, telling us the story of this and that. We haven't seen the Shrunken Heads? Why, follow me. The skull is removed and all the gray matter and subcutaneous fat scraped out, then the face is re-shaped and the sown-up head is dipped in a liquid that hardens it. The process takes three days, and is reserved for enemies. Revered members of the community get to keep their skulls. The shrunken heads confer on the wearer the strength of the slain enemy, and also keep the dead enemy's spirit at bay. Our Palestinian friend also made sure we saw the Hawaiian headman's cloak made up of 100s of 1000s of tiny feathers; an amazing feat, and quite beautiful. He had studied law but either didn't want to continue in it or the recession precluded finding a job, and he was working at the museum as a stop-gap measure. He seemed far too knowledgeable about the artifacts to be doing it purely on a whim.
Also visited the Special Exhibit on Wilfred Thesinger, 'greatest British explorer of the 20th century'. And he took lots of photos and was a travel writer. Was born in Addis Ababa, returned to the UK for his education, but pined for East Africa and returned there for the coronation of Ras Tafari / Emperor Haile Salassi and remained as part of the Political Service, but more importantly to camp and hunt and explore.
Had hot chocolate and a brownie at the original Maison Blanc on (or just off) St Giles, heading North towards Somerville College. Susan used to bike down St Giles to town. Maison Blanc is the pet project of the wife of the master chef Raymond Blanc, and was started in Oxford in 1981. Susan likes the decor -- the black and white photographs of Paris in golden frames, the taupe banquets along one wall, the blue chair covers (though she'd use the egg-shell blue of her agenda), the light (in this window-less room). Something gave me indigestion as we walked back to town; it might have been the water.
Walked back to town along back streets, passing the Radcliffe Camera and cutting through the Oxford Union. It had long stopped raining and a crescent moon was shining. Walked with Susan down St Aldates to the bridge then doubled back for Evensong at Christ's Church. A choir of 14 small boys and 16 university students, singing the most ethereal harmonising 'staggered' lines (...I don't have the words to describe the musical forms...). The reading from the Old Testament was Daniel in the Lions' Den (really?Darius decreed that all should worship Daniel's god after he emerged unscathed from the den?) and from the New Testament was something from Matthew, something about Jesus doing the impossible so we should too, I can't quite remember.
The X90 bus passed me as I was just 100m from the stop, so I made a mad dash for it. Purled some more but then encountered a dropped stitch which I tried to fix but couldn't, so figured I'd wait for Susan's assistance.
Got my first 'ready-meal' from Sainsbury's (mince in sauce with veggies and potatoes) and watched the New Tricks download.
Dettie skyped. Told me how she's shrunk 9cm and her trousers don't fit so she has to take them up. In the x-rays (or scan?) you can see how her discs are wafer thin. She's in pain if she stays in one position for too long. She has a visit to the neurologist scheduled for tomorrow. Wim, meanwhile, isn't doing so well. He can't remember or do anything, because of the medication he's being given to 'subdue his emotions.' 'They don't want to deal with anyone troublesome, so they just sedate them.' It turns them into vegetables. So Dettie insisted they stop giving Wim the medication, and the two of them were able to go to the garden centre together yesterday. Wim and Dettie will be celebrating Sinterklaas with Gabrielle and Mariette on Dec 5th. 'The kids don't want to do it anymore; they find it boring. But for us it's gezellig.' Dettie asked whether I'd be spending Christmas with the family in the US, and when I told her I was still in London, asked when I'd be coming to Holland and reminded me to be sure to tell her when I arrived and to feel welcome to stay with her.
Vernon had emailed to say Glide today had been a 'watershed.' I wonder what he means by that. Watershed - and he feels whole-heartedly reunited with the fold... or Watershed - and he's never going to go back there? Jim emailed to suggest we skype, but we missed each other. Marie emailed to say she and Robert are quite broken-up now (as of this last week), and that Kate hasn't shown any sign of life - or welcome - from London.
Fell asleep watching New Tricks. Woke up around 1.30am, in time to welcome Susan home (and give her my knitting to fix - required taking out a few rows, which it was good to see done).
Bakerloo line to Baker Street. Most other tube lines are disrupted for engineering work. The Jubilee is down completely. Stood in the light rain on Gloucester Road waiting for the X90 to Oxford to rumble up the road from Victoria via Marble Arch.
I might have wanted to be a vet when I was a kid, like Charlie. I speculate the difference between us lies in the 'wanting' rather than the 'vet'. 'Wanting', to me (even then), is a considered deliberate state -- not a passing fancy. And somewhere in there is the thought one can only 'want' what one CAN have. If one cannot have it (by virtue of who one 'is', or one's specific circumstances) even if one wanted it, then there is something flawed about the state of 'wanting' it. (Maybe 'wanting' becomes 'day-dreaming', or something). So 'I want to be a good girl' or 'I want a pair classic sandals' are 'want-able' things, whereas 'I want a pair of $1000 Nikes' or 'I want to be a vet' are not. Or in the case of the vet, are so 'un-knowable' (I do know there are a lot of things that go into becoming -- and being -- a vet, but I don't know what they all are, so am not in a position to evaluate whether or not they are things I can/could have or be or do, and am hence not in a position to 'want' -- or not want -- them).
Talked and purled the ride to Oxford. Arriving home for Susan is the descent down the hill on the edge of the centre of town. We got off at the stop on the High Street. It was still raining lightly.
I'm looking at everybody wearing knits -- to see whether I like them and would I like to knit them. I'm drawn into Brora. Beautiful cashmere knits. The 'ribbed shawl bolero' in 'cocoa' (ie dark brown) feels (and looks) especially good; I like the way the diagonally cut front edge still falls nicely when you pull the cardigan closed over you. The 'ribbed shawl cardigan' in 'cassis' (ie purple) is a little more chic, it's true -- but the bottom edge looks messy when you pull it around you. The 'aran knit coat' has a nice neck/breast line, but the bottom half is too chunky. And the 'long ribbed cardigan' is sleek, but the v-neck line is boring. Oh and - the tweed biker jacket is very cool, a tight knit with a diagonal zipper and overlapping collar. Susan liked the 'moss stitch bolero' -- a little jacket-y thing that rides above the waist and looks nice over a dress.
Susan showed me the Covered Market off High Street, and the store Fasta Pasta where she bought her first fresh pasta (to cook) at the age of 18. Got a crepe (with cheese and mushroom) before we exited and made our way over to the back entrance of the Ashmolean for tea in the roof-top restaurant. The restaurant was so busy that while they typically do start serving tea at 3pm, they weren't today. We took the refurbished stairs down the new light-well, and popped into the European Galleries for a look at the hand-painted pottery from Perugia and Deruta. Susan likes the plates with a central figure and a decorative pattern around the edges. I like the more geometric patterns produced in Delft. And the Minoan octopus on the cover of the brochure.
Continue over to the Pitt-Rivers Museum since it's due to close at 4.30pm. There are massive tree roots on low platforms displayed outside. We pass through the dinosaurs and stuffed birds of the Natural History museum main hall where children are busy cutting out and coloring butterfly shapes. The Pitt Rivers collection of odds and ends, different continents and countries all jumbled together in one case but proving all the more enlightening for it, lies behind. A male 'docent' of Persian aspect and accent (turns out he is from 'Jerusalem') points out a wart cure involving a slug impaled on a thorn to us, from Shropshire. And then he just carries on, telling us the story of this and that. We haven't seen the Shrunken Heads? Why, follow me. The skull is removed and all the gray matter and subcutaneous fat scraped out, then the face is re-shaped and the sown-up head is dipped in a liquid that hardens it. The process takes three days, and is reserved for enemies. Revered members of the community get to keep their skulls. The shrunken heads confer on the wearer the strength of the slain enemy, and also keep the dead enemy's spirit at bay. Our Palestinian friend also made sure we saw the Hawaiian headman's cloak made up of 100s of 1000s of tiny feathers; an amazing feat, and quite beautiful. He had studied law but either didn't want to continue in it or the recession precluded finding a job, and he was working at the museum as a stop-gap measure. He seemed far too knowledgeable about the artifacts to be doing it purely on a whim.
Also visited the Special Exhibit on Wilfred Thesinger, 'greatest British explorer of the 20th century'. And he took lots of photos and was a travel writer. Was born in Addis Ababa, returned to the UK for his education, but pined for East Africa and returned there for the coronation of Ras Tafari / Emperor Haile Salassi and remained as part of the Political Service, but more importantly to camp and hunt and explore.
Had hot chocolate and a brownie at the original Maison Blanc on (or just off) St Giles, heading North towards Somerville College. Susan used to bike down St Giles to town. Maison Blanc is the pet project of the wife of the master chef Raymond Blanc, and was started in Oxford in 1981. Susan likes the decor -- the black and white photographs of Paris in golden frames, the taupe banquets along one wall, the blue chair covers (though she'd use the egg-shell blue of her agenda), the light (in this window-less room). Something gave me indigestion as we walked back to town; it might have been the water.
Walked back to town along back streets, passing the Radcliffe Camera and cutting through the Oxford Union. It had long stopped raining and a crescent moon was shining. Walked with Susan down St Aldates to the bridge then doubled back for Evensong at Christ's Church. A choir of 14 small boys and 16 university students, singing the most ethereal harmonising 'staggered' lines (...I don't have the words to describe the musical forms...). The reading from the Old Testament was Daniel in the Lions' Den (really?Darius decreed that all should worship Daniel's god after he emerged unscathed from the den?) and from the New Testament was something from Matthew, something about Jesus doing the impossible so we should too, I can't quite remember.
The X90 bus passed me as I was just 100m from the stop, so I made a mad dash for it. Purled some more but then encountered a dropped stitch which I tried to fix but couldn't, so figured I'd wait for Susan's assistance.
Got my first 'ready-meal' from Sainsbury's (mince in sauce with veggies and potatoes) and watched the New Tricks download.
Dettie skyped. Told me how she's shrunk 9cm and her trousers don't fit so she has to take them up. In the x-rays (or scan?) you can see how her discs are wafer thin. She's in pain if she stays in one position for too long. She has a visit to the neurologist scheduled for tomorrow. Wim, meanwhile, isn't doing so well. He can't remember or do anything, because of the medication he's being given to 'subdue his emotions.' 'They don't want to deal with anyone troublesome, so they just sedate them.' It turns them into vegetables. So Dettie insisted they stop giving Wim the medication, and the two of them were able to go to the garden centre together yesterday. Wim and Dettie will be celebrating Sinterklaas with Gabrielle and Mariette on Dec 5th. 'The kids don't want to do it anymore; they find it boring. But for us it's gezellig.' Dettie asked whether I'd be spending Christmas with the family in the US, and when I told her I was still in London, asked when I'd be coming to Holland and reminded me to be sure to tell her when I arrived and to feel welcome to stay with her.
Vernon had emailed to say Glide today had been a 'watershed.' I wonder what he means by that. Watershed - and he feels whole-heartedly reunited with the fold... or Watershed - and he's never going to go back there? Jim emailed to suggest we skype, but we missed each other. Marie emailed to say she and Robert are quite broken-up now (as of this last week), and that Kate hasn't shown any sign of life - or welcome - from London.
Fell asleep watching New Tricks. Woke up around 1.30am, in time to welcome Susan home (and give her my knitting to fix - required taking out a few rows, which it was good to see done).
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