All the Best

Bars across windows are usually a stark affair, but someone put quite a bit of thought into turning these mundane realities of city life into a bit of artistic expression:

Just in case you have as much trouble reading the words as I did, they say: "Peace if you come at all, with a lighter heart and joy heart or do not come at all." (Full points for effort, if not for grammar.) Bob and I thought we'd have a peek in Freightliners Farm, but a large sign outside the gate said that they're closed on Mondays (something the website doesn't mention, unfortunately), so we kept walking. I did get one photo of the exterior wall of the farm before we left, though:

It appears to be a mural of farm animals and . . . all the breakfasts that our cute, cuddly friends become . . . . On our way back toward home, we passed this defaced Banksy:

Apparently it's not the only one that's been defaced recently, by the same "All the best" person--very sad, in my opinion. Anyway, thanks to Flickr, you can still see what today's image looked like before the whitewash.

Morning Surprise

It's April. And yet:

The big, fluffy snowflakes floated down for about an hour before stopping, and it seemed like it would be a promising day for trudging out in the snow--but by the time we went out for a walk a few hours later, most of the snow had already disappeared.

The Clissold Park goats didn't seem that excited by the snow,

but this trio of dogs were a bit more enthusiastic (and quite well prepared for winter weather):

One of them even took a special liking to Bob.

The park was dotted with small snowmen--this odd one was especially cute.

In spite of dwindling supplies, some enterprising folk still mustered up enough of the slushy stuff for a proper snowball fight!

If Only Every Soccer Game Ended This Way

All these weekends that Bob's been heading into southwest London to play soccer (I know we're supposed to say "football," but somehow it never emerges from our mouths before the s-word), neither of us realised how close he's been going to the Korean yumminess of New Malden. Well, for some reason, we noticed today, and Bob came back from his game very tired (not necessarily from the game, but from navigating the various train and bus delays he encountered), dirty (after being rained and hailed on during his game--but he scored his team's only goal), and bearing tonight's dinner. We started with japchae (fragrant stir-fried potato noodles),

thoroughly enjoyed our bibimbap (mixed vegetables, fried egg, and gochujang hot-pepper paste over rice) main courses,and barely had enough room left to start on our dteok (slightly sweet rice cakes, with various additions of fruit, nuts, honey, sesame seeds, and sweet red beans).

Soccer's not so bad, after all!

Splash of Green

London houses often have very little in the way of a front garden, which can lead homeowners or tenants to completely neglect their little bit of concrete (it's rarely grass) and let it be overtaken with bins for rubbish and recycling. Even without going overboard with gardening, others inject quite a bit of warmth into these limited spaces:

Maneki Neko

I like peering into windows as I walk, seeing what people put on display, either for the benefit of passers-by or people in the room itself.

Apparently, the gnomes are to be enjoyed from within, while the cat faces the outside world. Of course, these types of cats (maneki neko) don't face outward for mere decoration; they are meant to attract certain types of luck. While they're an extremely common sight in Vancouver, this is the first time I've seen one in a private residence in London. The meaning of the beckoning cat depends on many factors, including which paw(s) is/ are raised and the cat's colour. This one uses its left paw to invite people (strange for a residence, since this usually means in the sense of customers for a business) as well as wealth (signified by the gold colour) into the home. I'm not exactly sure how many people passing on this humble street will satisfy the kitty on both counts!

Dusty Treasures

On our way home today, Bob and I had a quick browse in a pleasingly ramshackle bookshop--the only thing I don't approve of is the name:

Tucked away in the basement of the Brunswick Centre, I doubt Skoob Books gets much walk-in traffic, but they are recently open again after an 18-month closure (necessitated by renovation works at the Brunswick), and it seems they have many loyal regulars. Incredibly, they make an offer that I've not heard any other secondhand shop making: "If we don’t have a book you require on the shelves, and it’s available in our on-line catalogue, we’ll get it sent to the shop, post-free, for you to peruse within a couple of days (depending on Royal Mail 1st Class services or when Chris is shuttling up the M40). If you want it you buy it, if not, we’ll find a space for it on the shelves." Now that's service! They even have an in-shop piano if you want to try out that score before you buy it:

Daily Routine

The attractive shopfronts of Patisserie Deux Amis

and Bloomsbury Cheeses are side-by-side,

although the second space now contains offices, not cheese. At least the current tenant has kept the old sign, and after I saw an older photo of the cheese shop, I noticed that Bloomsbury Design has merely erased the word "Cheeses" from the window and replaced it with "Design." As Bob and I walked toward the Thames, we passed the imposing, chaotic facade of the Hotel Russell, built in 1898:

Russell Square was busy with people picnicking and walking dogs, and we sat for a while and had a picnic of our own

while we watched some pups get in a good dose of play time.

Books? Coffee? Okay!

We browsed for a bit in the London Review Bookshop and were tempted by their attractive café, but had another coffee destination in mind, so we kept our minds on their wonderful selection of books instead. Further along, we passed this blue plaque on Bertrand Russell's one-time residence

before arriving at Monmouth Coffee for our coffee treat. Amazingly, one of their three regular booths (they also have a very wee booth for one) was actually free, which has never been the case on any of our visits. In fact, today was the first day that we haven't shared the booth with two other people! (They're quite comfy for two, but a bit on the cuddly side for four.)

We walked along the Thames for a while, through Victoria Embankment Gardens,

before heading up into nearby streets on which we'd not yet walked.

The Art Deco Adelphi building has many lovely details,

and when I walked over to take another photo of the building, I smiled when I noticed that Bob was being watched . . .

The murals

and small reliefs that adorn the building are fantastic.

This one is my favourite:

We only walked on a few streets between the Strand and the river, but there certainly wasn't a shortage of attractive buildings.

Finally, it was time for us to head to this next building, the reason we were in the neighbourhood.

Since the doors were open, we didn't have to use the fantastic knocker,

and we were given name tags before heading up to "The Great Room." When we were handed our tags, Bob was a bit disappointed: "Ohhhh, I don't get my name on mine." I had given both of our names when I booked our places, but Bob was still labelled as my "plus one."

The RSA (Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce--don't ask me where the M and C went in the acronym) was established in 1754, and its members have included Alexander Graham Bell, Dame Judi Dench, Charles Dickens, Benjamin Franklin, William Hogarth, Nelson Mandela, Karl Marx, Lucy Maud Montgomery, and William Thackeray. Considered a radical organisation throughout its history, the Oxford English Dictionary credits the first use of "sustainability" in the environmental sense to a 1980 edition of the RSA Journal, and the society's current motto is "working to remove the barriers to social progress." When we got up to the Great Room, it turned out to be, well, pretty great, with James Barry's late-18th-century paintings The Progress of Human Knowledge and Culture wrapping around the lecture hall.

We were here for a free reading by Julian Barnes, and found him to be personable, funny, and thought-provoking. His current book deals with considerations of family and death, and Barnes himself admitted during the course of the night that he "thinks about death once a day; it's like marmalade on toast--it's part of my daily routine." After the Q&A period was over (complete with the there's-always-one-at-every-reading unbelievably pretentious question from a particularly pompous audience member), we were free to roam the 1774 building, so we wandered through the different levels, taking in the architecture and art as we went.

One of the last pieces of art we saw before we left was Justin Mortimer's Portrait of Her Majesty the Queen, completed in 1997 to commemorate the Queen's fifty years of involvement with the RSA: