Whirlwind Trip “Home”

We are back home in the UK after an intensely busy and short visit home. The first few days involved taking an English friend around Pittsburgh and the surrounding area. I can’t tell you how much fun it was showing and talking about why I love the city and Pennsylvania in general. I was a cheerleader and it started to ignite that kernel of excitement of moving back and thinking about what’s next. Although, you can see my priorities when the top “sights” on my list involved food. We’ve gone months without good Mexican food, pizza, wings and pancakes. We ended up not eating a single meal at home, making sure to get our fill of favorites.

The other big reason for being home? My younger brother’s wedding! He and his new bride are currently honeymooning in Scotland * waves at them to the north! * The wedding itself went off smoothly, once the priest arrived, being an hour late in starting. It was the perfect storm of traffic situations. We had a great time at the ballroom dancing fueled wedding, catching up with family and friends, and getting a few “blasts from the past” from some people I haven’t seen in over a decade. As a wedding gift, I painted a couple rooms in their new house, painting is my thing.

So as per so many recent entries, I have much to blog about and many photos forthcoming. I just need to recover a bit from this jet lag. Neither of us slept on the flight in, a redeye on Monday night. I usually can fall asleep during take off, we fly so much. But not this time. This followed by a night of little sleep. It’s always harder to recover from jet lag flying from the US to the UK.

London Commuting

This is a post I’ve been meaning to post since February, but kept adding to it.

As I’ve been settling in to a regular schedule at work, I’ve had some time to reflect on the train and on commuting. I promise, I really don’t mean to sound trite when I say this, but, honestly, I feel like I’m getting the full Londoner experience. Before, when I wasn’t working, I spent a lot of time on my own, often not wandering far from my village. Only occasional jaunts into London where I felt like a tourist, like an outsider.

Now I feel like I am a part of that living, breathing, city machine, with its cogs that are in constant motion. It’s not a special trip, it’s just my way to get to work. Along the way there are the little details that make this ordinary activity special to me.

First I hop on to my local little train. It’s two train carriages long and takes ten minutes to travel to the station on the main line in Maidenhead. From there I catch any train heading inbound to Paddington, some being faster than others. Usually, I saunter off my local train right across the platform and have just a couple minute wait for the next train. Occasionally, I need to sprint across to a train waiting because my first train hesitated a second too long in getting rolling or failing catching that train, the next one arrives about twenty minutes later. This is part of what makes my commuting time into work fluctuate wildly.

One of my favorite parts of my morning commute involves looking down into the almost comically long and narrow back yards and seeing which ones seemed to be inspired by Ground Force. The ones with a rose arbor dividing the yard in two, the little painted garden sheds, the tastefully outfitted stone patios. They stand out between the ones that are simply long stretches of grass.

I am puzzled though, at the sheer numbers of trampolines in the yards. If my commute is at all a representative sample, England must be blanketed in trampolines. Mark and I joke about this all the time. There was an old SNL skit, Rob Lowe impersonating Stone Phillips on Nightline or some other hour long evening news shows with three twenty-minute vignette stories. Imagine in a serious voice, “Trampolines. Children’s play toy… or vicious back yard killer?” Although, most I see do have a “cage” around them to keep the kidlets from falling to their doom.

I imagine most other people get annoyed by fellow passengers having loud animated conversations on their cell phones or even with the person in the next seat. When we’re crammed in like sardines, you know everyone is listening in to that one fantastically loud person speaking. I actually enjoy listening to the spectrum of English accents out there. I can sit there staring at my book, all the while linguistically teasing apart the language in my mind. It took me a moment to realize that the two teenagers were not simply mimicking Katherine Tate’s character Lauren in an ironic manner, but rather, that was really the way they spoke. I smile to myself, adding further to my ruminations on language.

Then there’s the “Metro,” the daily paper that is made for the cars of public transport. I see them on trains and in the underground. It’s distributed in piles in the morning. It’s full of gossip pages and extremely brief news stories and reviews of movies and shows. Not a very meaty product but it serves its purpose well, to fill the short spans of time between stops with something to read or to read over someone’s shoulder in the cramped close quarters during the morning rush hour. A copy always seems to make it into work on the lunch table.

Bluebell Woods

We’ve had several days of amazing non-boring weather. One minute it’s clear blue skies, sun shining, the next, it’s thunder, lightening and hail. Lather, rinse, repeat. I love the mildness of the weather in England in general, but I do miss the occasional insane sort of weather we would get back home, especially loud rolling thunder storms.

As much as I enjoy this bi-polar weather, it was putting a slight damper on our weekend plans of getting outside. We didn’t let it stop us. I made the decree, we would go in search of Bluebell woods, come rain or come shine. It just happened that it worked out perfectly around us, raining before we went into the woods, where we stopped for a Sunday Roast. And just as we made it back to the car after the hike it started hailing and thundering again. We’re going to be away at possibly the precise time that it would be best to see the bluebells, so I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss seeing them at all.

I had been keeping my eye on the Woodland Trust’s website. Here they have a collection of the most marvelous phenology maps of British wildlife. I’ve been closely monitoring the sightings of Bluebells reported. There was a sharp peak in first bloom sightings about five days ago. I was hoping this meant we would at least get to see the start of this spectacular phenomenon. We were not disappointed.

We visited College Wood, a 130 acre woodland just outside Nash. It’s a designated “Bluebell Wood.” What does this mean? The native Bluebells are a protected species in the UK. It means we would be treated to an incredible display of native flowers. The forest floor is carpeted in Bluebells. A soft violet blue haze hovering over the rich green foliage. Their fragrance delicately perfuming the air. What we saw today is only the beginning, I can just imagine what a sight it will be in a weeks time. Hopefully they will still be out in force when we return at the end of the month. There are a couple of sites closer to us we can check out, maybe we’ll be able to catch the tail end of this phenomenon.

The Complete Bluebell Photoset

Married Nine Years!

You heard me right, today is our ninth wedding anniversary. We have been together now for ten years!

This is where I start waxing philosophical. When we first decided to get married, I really felt like I had lived. I was out of university and had a job. I had experienced so much already. I had dated a lot; in that good way where one learns about what you want and expect out of a partner, what you expect of your self and more importantly, what you don’t want. I learned that good relationships, really good relationships worth keeping, are not difficult. When you find that person who fits so perfectly, it’s not work, it’s fun and relaxed. And every day is better than the day before. Every day reaffirms that I have chosen wisely.

Ten years on and I feel that I have only just started really living. This past year has brought on a newness and excitement to our relationship. We are both experiencing so much that is new. We’ve both commented a number of times in the months that we’ve lived here that we’ve been experiencing that “new relationship feel.” It’s warm, fuzzy, glowing, smiley feelings all around.

On the one hand, it feels like we have lived in England a long time, at the same time though, the time has flown by. The same odd passage of time is reflected in our marriage. Ten years is a long time, but it hasn’t felt like that much time has passed. In some ways we are still those kids, but we have grown, and changed together. We still fit together so perfectly. It’s hard to imagine life without Mark or before Mark. I honestly can’t imagine myself being anywhere else but by his side. Where ever he is, that’s home.

After a night of putting curlers in your hair, much giggling and other silliness, here’s to the next nine!

Goat Cheese Medallions

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  I love goat’s cheese, I’m a sucker for it.  Having gone out recently to the same restaurant twice and ordering the same starter twice, I was struck with inspiration.  The dish?  It was a salad topped with breaded and fried crispy goat’s cheese (also served with figs and prosciutto).  I was terrified it wasn’t going to work, that I would end up with gooey melted and burning cheese in hot oil.  I researched a few recipes for suggestions on how to accomplish this and in the end this is what I did and it worked beautifully.

Goat Cheese Medallions

Slice goat’s cheese into 1/4″ rounds, if it’s a little crumbly just form into small patties.  Place on wax paper and set them in the freezer for a few minutes.  My cheese log made 8 medallions.

Start heating the oil in a small fry pan.  Beat the egg in a bowl and pour a layer of bread crumbs onto a small plate.  Dip each round of cheese in egg and then dip in breadcrumbs.  I used forks to gingerly maneuver the cheese from step to step and gently patted the breadcrumbs to ensure a nice even layer all around.  Prepare all of them before you start frying.  They only take about 30 seconds per side to brown and crisp up.  Fry them in small batches.  Let drain on a rack.

We put these little gems on a lightly dressed spinach salad with a balsamic vinaigrette made with a little honey and thinly sliced shallots.  They were lovely and crispy and melty and contrasted well with the crumbled bacon and dried cherries we sprinkled over the salad.  Yum!  I think they would make a nice topper for a butternut squash risotto as well.

Foxy?

Late last night, or very early this morning, I heard an unusual noise from outside. Even though it was freezing outside, I opened the window and had a better listen in the darkness. It was a noise so bizarre and so unfamiliar. A coughing, grunting sort of cry, difficult to explain. I quickly ran back downstairs and alerted Mark about the noise and there we stood in the open door way, heads cocked listening intently. Mark was hypothesizing that it might be a badger, I thought perhaps a deer. It made its noise a few more times and stopped. A couple hours later, we heard it again while laying in bed.

After a bit of internet sleuthing this morning, we determined it to be a fox call. Sort of like the “territorial call” on that site, but a deeper, more guttural sounding call. When we first moved here and were remarking on how awesome it was to have pheasants and ducks out our front door, the neighbors mentioned that, “we have a fox too.” We have not seen or heard any fox until now. It is possible a fox tore into some of our garbage once. But still no fox sighting.

We’ll have to keep our ears peeled, we may need to have a late night romp onto the trails to track down and see a red fox.

Family Visit Over

Well, the family visit is over, I’m tracking their flight as I type this. They are safely on their way. I have a huge back log of blogging but this will be a little place holder for now in outline form.

My parents and brother Joe were here for eight days, my folks stayed in our guest bedroom and Joe we stuffed in the dining room at night (we have a small place and two visitors at once is much easier to deal with for space). This was their first trip abroad, so it was a really big deal for them and they had a blast!

Here was the itinerary, for my records and for any who may want to visit us, a taste of what staying at the Denovich B&B would be like

Day one, was a four mile walk around our village and along part of The Thames Foot Path (the walk and sunshine is key in combating jet lag), tea in Cookham, lounging and recovering from jet-lag watching Vicar of Dibley and then dinner at the 1000 year old, oldest pub in England: The Royal Standard, which happens to be right near where we live.

Day two, bagel breakfast, train into Windsor, toured the castle, walked around the Long Walk, around Windsor for some shopping, lunch and cream tea and then home for dinner where we made fillet steaks, baked potatoes and runner beans, and more Vicar before bed.

Day three, breakfast of Greek yogurt/muesli/honey/blueberries, train into London, Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, Westminster Abby, Parliament, a ride on the London Eye, trip on a City Cruise with hilarious commentary up to Greenwich where we took numerous silly photos on the Prime Meridian at the Royal Observatory, back home for dinner of our home made pasta with fresh basil, tomatoes and mozzarella.

Day four, my awesome eggs Benedict breakfast, Caves and amazing geology at Cheddar Gorge!, lunch at a 500 year old pub, Cheddar cheese made in Cheddar, nice drive through English countryside on the way (through the Cotswolds and Chilterns) seeing all sorts of varying vernacular architecture region to region. Home for dinner, our pork wiener schnitzel and Oreos! my folks brought over for us for dessert.

Day five, parents went to church (fortunately there is a Catholic church in our village, I wouldn’t have a clue where to send them otherwise). We drove south to the coast and hiked around the Seven Sisters Cliffs gorgeous white chalk cliffs, where you can endanger your own life by walking right up to the VERY EDGE it’s awesome! Picnic of sandwiches from Marks and Spark’s on the cliff edge. Stopped at Bodiam Castle on the way home. Saw many of the Oast houses in Kent, where hops are dried. Dinner at home consisted of Kung Pao beef followed by a very British Banoffee Pie

Day six, was very low key, we were experiencing gale force winds and periodic downpours, so we hunkered down for the day. We slept in and I made ricotta pancakes topped with bananas for breakfast. I did take the family out in the rain for a bit to go shop on our little High Street, and to the post office so they could send off their post cards. We made a Ploughman’s lunch, which consists of a baguette, cheeses, sliced apples, prosciutto, ploughman’s pickle, dates, blueberries, and fresh apple cider from our green grocer. Much Wii Bowling was played by the family. Dinner involved a big batch of sangria and build your own soft tacos (the smoked garlic we’ve been buying lately really added a wonderful flavor!)

Day seven, after a breakfast of French toast made from left over baguette, we drove into Wiltshire. We went to Stonehenge, Woodhenge and Avebury Circle of Standing Stones, went into Salisbury, toured its Cathedral with the tallest spire in England filled with the tombs of illegitimate children of king’s of England, stopped at Sarum Castle, and found one of the many mysterious White Horses of Wiltshire. Dinner was a night out at the Bel and Dragon in Cookham and topped with some sticky toffee pudding.

Day eight, I made home made scones for breakfast with tea before their taxi arrived to whisk them off to Heathrow.

We all had a blast, it was a great vacation. There is just so much to do and see, they’ll just have to come back Photos will be forth coming with more detailed blog entries on the dates.

Family Visit, So Far So Good!

It’s been a pretty busy few days.  And much more walking than my family is used too.  I’ve been having a blast.  When Mark’s mom and grandmother visited last year, we had only been here ourselves for just a few months, we took them out, showed them some sights.  But everything was still so new to us as well.

Now that we’ve been here in England over15 months, there I am marching my folks and brother around like I were a native.  I’ve taken great joy in showing them around our surrounding village area and our village life.  Navigating London neighborhoods, sites and the underground with little to no help from my “London A to Zed.”  It’s just been such a strange and wonderful feeling, having even such a large city feel so comfortable.  Feeling like home.  Even taking them around Windsor I was at ease, having only been there twice before.  Or going so far over into Greenwich where we took silly photos straddling the Prime Meridian wasn’t a big deal without a map.

Tomorrow we venture into new territory.  We head west to the Cheddar Gorge and Caves and on to Bath.  It will be a long driving day, but we’ll get to see some new countryside scenery.  That’s after I treat my family to my awesome Eggs Benedict for breakfast

Well, I’m completely knackered,  after I a have a couple of more details sorted for tomorrow I am hitting the sheets.

Hiking: Hambleden Estate

Hambleden Hike: 2.6 mile hike  (back dated entry)

It’s just such a lovely sunny day out and what better way to take advantage of the weather than to go for another little ramble through the countryside. This walk took us up and around Hambleden Estate . We could see some areas that would be potential “Bluebell Woods” to visit once the flowers bloomed.

We encountered mobs of rabbits and the holes leading to their dens in the woods. In the nearby distance we heard the sounds of gun shots.  This estate is known for it’s game and the village store you can purchase anything from venison sausages made from estate deer to wild duck, pheasants and rabbits.

We are both easily amused taking photos that make us laugh, or make us look completely insane to the outside observer. I’m sure I looked particularly insane shaking my head back and forth to achieve the above image.

I nearly got myself stuck in a U shaped branch suspended over the meandering little stream. It was easy enough to get up onto and slide into the branches embrace. Getting out was another matter. Mark needed to come to my rescue. The water below me wasn’t deep, but I could imagine it wouldn’t be pleasant to fall into. Mark made it look easy after I was extracted from the position, he hopped up and even started to climb around. I just wouldn’t put my falling in out of the realm of possibility.

Halfway through the day we stopped at the Stag and Huntsman in search of food since we were getting hungry, we had just missed the cut off time for lunch. A break for a pint would have to do. Looking at the specials on the menu board, we could see that it is highly influenced by the game available from the area. A place we’ll need to revisit I think.

Complete photoset from the day

Ordinary World

It’s been quiet, oh so quiet.  It’s been quiet because for once we have had two solid months of normal life.  No traveling, no big adventures, just living a rather ordinary life, that just happens to be in England, for a couple of months.  It’s actually been nice, but such sundries of everyday life and settling in to routines with work does not make for much to blog about.

Next week, my parents and brother are flying in for a visit, so I’ve been planning some England-centric adventures for us, trying to include places that will be new for Mark and me too, Cheddar Gorge, Bath and the Seven Sisters Cliffs on the coast to name a few.  It’s going to be a fun visit, being their first time traveling abroad.  With another brother getting married at the end of April, we’ll be making a jaunt back home then.

Until then, it’s back to my ordinary world

Simple Pleasures

Sitting on the back patio on a sunny afternoon, cup of coffee in one hand, a good book in the other (currently reading Dry Store Room #1). I keep getting distracted by all the song birds, so I fill the bird feeder again. In the branches of the large Pussy Willow above me there are a few of the infamous green parakeets of England, I didn’t know they occurred this far out of the city, they usually haunt Kew Gardens and surrounding environs. But there they are.

And lastly, dark chocolate Hob Nobs are simply divine.

Thank You

Thank you to everyone who sent kind and supportive thoughts. It has meant a lot to me. Greenie was an exceptional kitty, able to fill a spot in so many hearts.

Greenbean on February 3, 2008, c/o Mark’s mom, How is this a photo of a sick Bean?

A Long Walk

Today’s hike: a 5.5 mile loop

We went for a walk this afternoon to clear the dark clouds and cobwebs out of our minds, get some sunlight and fresh air. It turned into a rather long walk that really did us some good.

Up and down hills and over rather slick and slippery mud making for a challenging hike. We just haven’t adopted using “Wellies” on our walks. Although my muddied jean legs and five pounds of soil sticking to either shoe would seem argument enough to use them.

Some of the smaller back pools of water were frozen over, I honestly didn’t think it was getting cold enough for that, but I guess being in the shadow of the hillside has contributed to that. These shaded areas were much less tricky to navigate, the mud solid like we were traveling across permafrost. With camera in tow and a new lens to play with, we of course could not resist a little photography, a pleasant distraction too.

Complete Photoset from today

Greenbean

Today I lost my baby, my best friend.

She was the runt of her litter, just a tiny little thing. Her mother, a stray named Psycho, had abandoned her litter at the house where my brother Joe and his friends lived. They cared for the kittens, feeding and raising them by hand. I think this made her personality what it was. As a very young kitten I adopted her. She would curl up under the blankets and sleep along side me in bed. I was so terrified I would squish this delicate creature.

She liked to be around people. Just hanging out, being a part of the conversation. I always would imagine her sitting there with a mini cup of coffee, her elbow leaning on a pillow in the corner nook of the couch. Everyone who crossed her path fell in love with her and adored her sweet and gentle nature.

As a kitten, no roll of toilet paper or box of tissues were safe. She would unroll entire rolls and carefully pull one tissue out after another. The tissue habit continued as a way of getting attention or treats for years. She would look you straight in the eye and absently touch the tissues with her small oval paws of fuzz and slowly draw out the next kleenex.

She had eccentric tastes in treats. She would come running for chickpeas, squeak in the tiniest of voices asking so nicely for corn and would be ready to jump in the fridge when she heard me grind coffee beans, knowing a small dish of cream was in store for her.

At night, after we would turn off the lights for the evening, she would leave my side and patrol the house. She almost never made a peep except for on these nightly rounds where we would hear her all through the house, into the basement, lightly meowing, “meow meow meow!” She would return to my side and sleep on my pillow. She would stretch out in her sleep, somehow managing to take up a third of the bed. I would have this wonderful warm ball of fuzz buzzing and purring in my face every night.

We needed to leave her behind when we moved to England. It was a difficult decision, but it was the right one. We missed her and thought about her every day. While we were away, she was off having wonderful new adventures of her own and making new friends.  She couldn’t have had a better life or have been more loved.

We are so lucky to have had her in our lives. I love you Bean and miss you.  You will always be in my heart and I’ll keep your spot warm on my pillow.

Greenbean 1997-2008

Thriller on London Underground

I just had to share this (thanks Yan Yan! If you’re out there!). I would like to say that this is what my morning commute is like, but sadly, I ride the Circle line, which is generally standing room only in the morning. Also, a friend observed, that only Londoner’s would sit there, pretending not to notice what was going on:

The Frequency of “Still”

There is a song, or rather the intro and background of a song that keeps popping up all over the place. BBC 4 uses it as a theme in adverts for documentary style television programs. A U.K. newspaper The Independent, that distributes free books in its issues, this week being Great Philosophers, uses it for its commercials. The piano chords rhythmically tinkling along as images of Socrates, Plato, Kant, Descartes, Sartre, Hume and others float by. It is such an unexpected melody to be hearing knowing the source. A jarring juxtaposition.

I kept hearing it and it was really bothering me that I couldn’t quite put my finger on what the song actually was. Mark and I scoured YouTube and song titles. We had an idea of who the artist could possibly be. I could even picture the video in my mind’s eye, “You know, the one with the car with the bouncing hydrolics and the scantily clad women?” We even called up a friend who DJ’s and thought given our vague description he could help us narrow it down, “Yeah, and I bet it also references drive by’s and chronic!” he retorted. In the world of gangsta rap, my white girl ruminations and memory of the song could not really narrow it down.

Finally, after what was hours of trying to figure it out, I had an “AH HA!” moment, found the video and started playing it and both Mark and my eyes went wide with our knowing grins. What song am I talking about? I’m talking about “Still D.R.E.” by Dr. Dre, featuring Snoop Dogg. Because, you know, when I’m thinking about philosophers and serious documentaries, of course a gangsta rap song immediately come to my mind!

Windy!

It was so windy this morning, it was taking my breath away as I walked to the train station.

30 Days

Now that I am gainfully employed at the museum, I’ve had to shuffle through a minor mountain of paperwork.  Really, it was just a mole hill of paper work.  In this process, I needed to get an NIS number, the national insurance number, similar to our social security numbers back home.  Since I had not intended on working here, it’s just something I never took care of.

In the myriad pages of questions about my parents names and my former addresses, I needed to include a complete list of all my entry dates into and out of England and the reasons for those stays.  If you’ve been playing along, you will know that it would be a long list of dates.  Four trips back home since last Christmas (December, April, July, then December again), plus the dozen countries we’ve been to in between .  However, as per the instructions in their convoluted language, the list did not need to include any stays in the UK that were less than 30 days, excluding the current stay.  I pulled out my calender and my passport and started to look at all the dates of entry.

It turns out, since we’ve moved here, we have not spent more than 30 consecutive days in England.  That long list of entry dates and reasons for being here collapsed into a list of two.   I think our current “stay” since our re-entry at the beginning of January is destined to be the longest we’ve been in this country we call home.

The Flowers of January

It’s January and there are flowers starting to bloom all over the place. Snowdrops, crocuses, primroses, even daffodils and myrtle. Most of what is going to flower is already showing five to six inches of growth above ground and laden with buds getting ready.

I’m sharing these in light of the past week the folks at home experienced, a week of high temperatures that barely exceeded freezing. It hasn’t even been cold enough for a frost in the evenings here in recent weeks.

I love winter in England.

Suicidal Cadbury Eggs?

Can someone please explain to me what marketing genius is responsible for the Cadbury Egg commercials I’ve been seeing? As far as I can tell, the message is, “eat these cute chocolate creme filled eggs, or else they are going to commit suicide!”

It’s their “here today, goo tomorrow” campaign. There are a number of variations on this theme where you see a Cadbury egg setting up various suicide scenarios, all the while humming happily and industriously to itself, “doo, doo, doo, doo” before it meets its own gruesome demise. There is something quite endearing about them. There is little I can do to stop myself from shouting at the television screen, “don’t do it little egg!”

There is the egg pushing something off the edge of a garbage can to land on the foot pedal that then smashes the egg all over the wall. There’s the egg who has rope tied around his middle who then pops a balloon that startles horses who then take off slicing the egg open. The one exploding itself with a foot pump. You see a creme egg throw itself into a blender. One excitedly jumps onto an egg slicer. Or smashing itself in a Newton’s cradle. In case these are not airing in the US, here is a sample:

Oh the humanity! Er… rather… Oh the chocolate-eggity!

A Page Out My History

Once upon a time, or sometime in 1998, whichever comes first, deep in the wilds of Zelienople just north of Pittsburgh, our brave heroine encountered the rare diminutive water fountain lion, a distinct sub-species (Panthera leo aquafontanelle) in this particular micro habitat of city park land. She couldn’t believe her luck as the intrepid explorer stalked the elusive animal. She fortunately survived this brutal attack and lives to share her remarkable tale.

Taps Fingers Impatiently

Right now, as I write this, the second book that I’ve been working on is uploading to the Blurb site.  It’s half way there.  It’s taking its time, the final page count is 304, there are over 700 photos from our travels through Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Spain, Greece, Austria, Germany, a brief few pages from Belgium and just a few page spread of Turkey for the continuity of the time line (and sans a few trips Mark made on his own for brief business purposes to Italy, France, Netherlands…).

I had briefly considered not making the book so photo intensive.  But quickly nixed that idea when you consider what it would cost in the long run to have all our photos printed out, the time it would take for me to arrange them in photo albums and make notes on the back of them.  Considering I have boxes of loose photos at home in no where near that state of organization, the odds of that actually happening being slim.   Having these shots printed in context with my travel blog entries just makes so much sense.

But, anyway, I’m just waiting for this volume to finish uploading so I can hurry up and get the copies I want to send out to family ordered and on their way.

Tap, tap, tap, tap…

Book In My Reading Queue

I’m looking forward to a book I recently ordered, it should be here on Monday.  It’s “Store Room No.1: The Secret History of the Natural History Museum” by Richard Fortey.  It’s primarily a collection of stories and anecdotes of the hidden treasures and characters who have worked at the British Museum of Natural History over time.  A sort of alternative history of this museum.  I think it’s par for the course to have unusual people and stories associated with museums.  Taxonomy does lend itself to people with a penchant for weird passions.  A graduate student I once worked with had been working on a “behind the scenes” narrative of the history and people of the bug rooms I formerly worked in.  I wonder what happened to that project.
Anyway, it’s in my queue and I expect it will be a really enjoyable read with stories I can empathize and sympathize with.

“Don’t Let Me Catch You Eating Garbage Pie!”

I know I have mentioned the joys of Waitrose and its home grocery delivery
service. What I didn’t mention is that on one of our deliveries, I received a couple of additional items accidentally. Yorkshire puddings and a Banoffee pie. Two rather very British items that I may not have ordered for myself but were items I kept anyway to try.

A Banoffee pie is a British dessert made from bananas, cream and toffee on a crust made from biscuits and butter. The toffee, also oddly enough, is made from condensed milk, by boiling an unopened can for 3-5 hours. Kind of like a graham cracker crust with a layer of toffee, sliced bananas, a layer of whipped cream and then some shaved chocolate on top. It is claimed to be invented in 1972 in a restaurant in East Sussex.

Anyway, I pulled it out of the fridge and had a slice. It was a slice of heaven. The buttery crust balanced well against the sweetness of the toffee. The banana slices survived freezing and held their texture. And the whipped cream layer wasn’t too too sweet (although Mark might argue this point).

I really enjoyed this pie. I didn’t over indulge in any one sitting, just savoring a reasonably sized slice after dinner. This went on for a few days where I would come home from work, enjoy our dinner and then partake of the creamy yumminess later in the evening.

I was really looking forward to having a dessert this particular day. I set up some of our US television shows to watch and excitedly proclaimed, “I’m going to have another piece of pie!”

Mark stopped me in my tracks as he quietly stated, “I threw the pie away! It said on the box to toss after a few days, so I tossed it!”

Admittedly, I had been nibbling on this pie for five days now. But I was really looking forward to a piece of Banoffee pie! Mark had *just* thrown it away. It was sitting right on top in the garbage can. It was probably even still cold.

I stared at it longingly, all the while thinking, “It’s still good! It’s still good!” when I hear Mark shout from the other room, “Don’t let me catch you eating garbage pie!”

Brunch at Christopher’s

We went into London, to Covent Garden, to meet up with a number of other ex-pats for brunch at the “American Grill” The place was picked since it was one of the few places serving genuine buttermilk pancakes and french toast. Key breakfast items that are not very common amongst the heaping “full English breakfast” involving sausages, eggs, back bacon, fried tomatoes, baked beans on toast.

Mark went for a dish involving hollandaise for one of his choices. When I make absolutely flawless hollandaise, I find it hard to order eggs Benedict while out to eat. I’m generally disappointed, because my own is invariably better. And although I make amazing ricotta pancakes, I did opt for the buttermilk pancakes as one of my options and they were awesome. I don’t ordinarily make buttermilk pancakes here, so it was a tasty choice. Where there are weeks where two meals involve me making hollandaise sauce, so ordering that isn’t such a special treat.

On the way home late in the evening, we had some time to kill before our train departed, we also enjoyed eating at Yo! Sushi in the Paddington train station. Yum, pancakes and sushi in the same day!