12 Degrees (C) & Wet in London and the new additions to the flat

Okay, great Reader, I need to warn you there is no picture link today.  You will get all the pictures; London was NOT scenic today (it has days).  It was chilly and wet and windy here today.  We came for the weather, right?

But there will be food pics.  Porn is in the eye of the beholder, so I won't label them as such.

Earliest, for the first time since arriving, I went to the sandwich shop less than a block from the flat and had an English breakfast.  Back when I first came to Britain, Jimmy Carter was President, if that helps you date it, I thought a full English breakfast was as good as their cuisine got (okay, fish and chips were pretty good, too, then...now out of date).  So, here's my "heart healthy variation" (the board called it the "Vegetarian" -- none of the three kinds of meat I could have had).  And, yes, I like beans.

And then back to the flat to "the kid."  (Since I'm not using names here, I won't use hers)

The kid is 8 going on 15.  She's pretty cute and still thinks getting a Build-a-Bear is the cat's pajamas.  She also think it is good to call me nicknames like "Trouble."  In return, I hid her laptop for awhile (not long) this morning.  Yes, I can be THAT childish.

The kid's funniest comment du jour, and I think it'll be long-lasting, is an abusive overuse of the word literally.  As the sagacious Reader will remember, dictionaries began to change the accepted meaning of this word not long ago.  Here's your link.  The kid literally uses it so often that it is literally mind-boggling.  I told her I was going to charge her 10p every time she said it; I was up 50p by the time we left an hour later for class.  (She did NOT confirm this bet, BTW)

After class, M walked my book up the 55 steps to the flat (I'd done it already once and it takes me a good 5...maybe 10 minutes to catch my breath afterwards; M is still amused that one day [inspired by the play we had just seen] I fell on my knees on the landing of flats 3 & 4 and prayed that we be in one of those.  It is a prayer I repeat frequently; tonight, in the final trip up the stairs for the day, I didn't make it to the second level before wishing to be staying in the lower flats) and then we took the Tube to Southwark, which M had never done, and walked to the Globe Theatre for the afternoon production of King John.  If you aren't up on your Shakespeare, King John is not in the top ten most likely Shakespeare plays to be produced, yet M and I have now seen 3 productions!

We had seats this time (the group came as groundlings earlier -- you see the people standing in the picture -- that's where the proletariat saw plays from in Will's time.  But M's view was restricted.  This led to jokes about "looking wooden," "that actor being a blockhead," etc.  But M liked the production, which was quite interestingly designed (as you can see from the picture, with the forward thrust [it's not usually there]).  By the way, the picture is contraband; M got busted for taking one next to me. :)

Then we got home, changed for formal afternoon tea, and had to take a taxi (no longer proles) to get there by our reservation time, and then sat.

For those of you uninitiated, afternoon tea is one of those things the English claim as iconic in their culture.  This would be "high tea," meaning you get sandwiches along with cakes and your "tea."  M had his usual Earl Gray and I had my usual decaf coffee.  I show the tray -- again, this picture is contraband.  Three years ago Mrs M was taking pictures of their offering and the waiter busted her -- thus the "memorial restaurant" line in last night's blog (an inside joke, I'm afraid).

We agreed on several things: one, that we weren't fans of the whole thing as produced here (at the Wolseley, which is across a small street from the Ritz...yes, the real one in London); two, that the lemon cake (closest to you on the 2nd tier) was the single best thing on the tray; three, if we came back, instead of this full thing, we would go for just the scones (on top), which come, of course (this is part of the whole thing) with clotted cream and strawberry preserves.  So much to remember.

There was a discussion of what clotted cream really was.  It was determined it was definitely NOT heart healthy.  I pointed out I was getting my vegetable du jour from the celery sandwich (2nd from right), so...that mattered less.  I refused to eat the fingers (yes, it is at least the third time today I've made that joke -- I like dead horses -- and, no, curious Reader, that ISN'T finger in the first sandwiches on the right).  And then M finished the experience with "I don't think this is my cup of tea."  Rim shot.

We are running out of days.  It is to be similar weather tomorrow.  The supposed highlight is seeing Bradley Cooper (who?) in Elephant Man.  This is good news or bad news: it's a one-hander, as they call it in the thee-ay-ter, so there'll be A LOT of Bradley Cooper.  And we might have seats so high up (as we have before in the Royal Haymarket, the third oldest theatre in London, circa 1720 -- it's big) that he could be anyone on stage.  Which might put a damper on enthusiasm for the experience.

Countdown is now 3 days.  Sigh.  Ah, well, good news is it will be good to be home, be it ever so crumbled (that is literally the cliche, right?).#