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That's what today kind of felt like. Kind of, I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself, but foot pain will do that.
Went out after noon, ran into the Saturday Broadway Market market I'd forgotten about. Had some Vietnamese street food, then a ribeye sandwich courtesy of the Argentine place. Tip: I probably prefer medium rare to rare, and anyway medium rare is easier to eat without a knife; the rare beef didn't want to fall apart. Went toward the train station, and rain! Part of the reason I haven't done more this week is that I keep staying up too late and thus sleeping in late, but another part is that the big things I've wanted to do are outdoorsy and it's been raining fairly heavily almost every day. Between rain and line closings, I swore off Kew again, and went to British Museum again. Or tried to: first the station was very packed, so it took a while to get out, and then the museum gate was blocked by a clot of people. False fire alarm or something, I heard. By the time I got in, I was antsy, flinching away from all the classical/Asian stuff I'd seen before and racing to Europe. Which turned out to be painting-free, it's all objects. Not what I'd expected... fortunately, what I first stopped for was neo-classical jasperware, which soothed my troubled soul. Explored that and related stuff, then a bit of early Persia, including an animated reconstruction of the palace at Perspepolis, and then the Japan section again...
But my now my right foot was really hurting and twinging, crimping any palace grounds plans, and just making me unhappy. Stopping in a restaurant seemed to make it worse actually, whereas my final limp home was better. No idea what's up with it.
I think I'm getting tired of feeling rootless, both physically and lifewise, and not talking to anyone close. Plus planning and moving every few days, or week.
Hostess is off in Paris having, heh, driven there. Two new sets of guests managed to get in somehow anyway, a couple I barely talked to, and a Frenchwoman between flats in London.
Dropped into the London Review bookstore, and saw mention of a couple of interesting books on inequality. I'd mention them if my phone weren't upstairs charging.
I've finally started Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver, after years of avoiding "oh my god it's the giant backbreaking trilogy of doom". No weight as an ebook, heh heh. It's been pretty enjoyable, actually.
Oh! I saw my first drinking fountain in the UK. In the men's bathroom of the British Museum, so I must have missed it before. Had crappy pressure so you'd have to kiss the faucet, but it was there. First and only one.
Went out after noon, ran into the Saturday Broadway Market market I'd forgotten about. Had some Vietnamese street food, then a ribeye sandwich courtesy of the Argentine place. Tip: I probably prefer medium rare to rare, and anyway medium rare is easier to eat without a knife; the rare beef didn't want to fall apart. Went toward the train station, and rain! Part of the reason I haven't done more this week is that I keep staying up too late and thus sleeping in late, but another part is that the big things I've wanted to do are outdoorsy and it's been raining fairly heavily almost every day. Between rain and line closings, I swore off Kew again, and went to British Museum again. Or tried to: first the station was very packed, so it took a while to get out, and then the museum gate was blocked by a clot of people. False fire alarm or something, I heard. By the time I got in, I was antsy, flinching away from all the classical/Asian stuff I'd seen before and racing to Europe. Which turned out to be painting-free, it's all objects. Not what I'd expected... fortunately, what I first stopped for was neo-classical jasperware, which soothed my troubled soul. Explored that and related stuff, then a bit of early Persia, including an animated reconstruction of the palace at Perspepolis, and then the Japan section again...
But my now my right foot was really hurting and twinging, crimping any palace grounds plans, and just making me unhappy. Stopping in a restaurant seemed to make it worse actually, whereas my final limp home was better. No idea what's up with it.
I think I'm getting tired of feeling rootless, both physically and lifewise, and not talking to anyone close. Plus planning and moving every few days, or week.
Hostess is off in Paris having, heh, driven there. Two new sets of guests managed to get in somehow anyway, a couple I barely talked to, and a Frenchwoman between flats in London.
Dropped into the London Review bookstore, and saw mention of a couple of interesting books on inequality. I'd mention them if my phone weren't upstairs charging.
I've finally started Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver, after years of avoiding "oh my god it's the giant backbreaking trilogy of doom". No weight as an ebook, heh heh. It's been pretty enjoyable, actually.
Oh! I saw my first drinking fountain in the UK. In the men's bathroom of the British Museum, so I must have missed it before. Had crappy pressure so you'd have to kiss the faucet, but it was there. First and only one.