It's beginning to look (and feel!) a lot like Christmas...

Snow! Lights! Christmas mirth! Hooray!

The Christmas season has arrived here in London, that's for sure. Everyone is in the holiday spirit, and along with scores of Christmas carols, the line "as the shoppers rush home with their treasures..." is front of mind, er...at least my mind. Let's see...

Snow's [non] impact on a theatre trip...

On Wednesday morning, snow arrived in Colliers Wood. Now, this was exciting -- my first London snow! I happily tweeted it out, and then did a quick search to see if anyone else in my post code was experiencing the same glee. Interestingly enough, the hashtag #uksnow was instantly rising to the top of the trending topics list. It shot up to number one so quickly that I was even compelled to write a short blog about it on my other site, "Using Web 2.0 tools for instant information: Murderers, earthquakes, and snow — oh, my!" (Yes, one respondent noted "that's quite a combination!" to the title...)

In reading the #uksnow tweets, I learned not only where it was snowing and how hard the flakes were falling, but also that London is akin to Charlotte, whereby a small dusting can close down the city. Yikes! Steve and I had tickets to see Avenue Q that night, a birthday gift to him from Maz and John. Would we have any issues? Oh, no!

Luckily, all was fine. I met Steve at his work for a quick drink at the work Christmas do, after which we hoofed up to TheatreLand to meet Maz and John for the tickets, and then it was off to the show to see the Bad Idea Bears (aka Steve and me) and the rest of the puppets. The evening proved to be incredibly cold and still a bit snowy, but we encountered no issues in our travels and, in fact, barely a dusting was left on the streets. Aw!

Christmas shopping throughout the city...

To celebrate Maz and John's new home, I hopped up to the John Lewis store in Kingston for a small gift card, as well as a quick spot of lunch with Phil Squirrel. What a lovely little town next to the river Kingston is! In the Christmas market tent I gleaned all sorts of gifts, hoping to find treats for my family back home. (No such luck -- darn, darn!) Nonetheless, I enjoyed listening to the carols in the square, as folks rushed about, hurriedly searching for the "it" gift for those on their lists...

With no luck for my shopping list in Kingston, Steve and I traveled down to Oxford Street on Saturday. Steve was muttering under his breath that everyone would be getting off the tube at Oxford Circus, and yup -- he was right. Admittedly, we were both a bit surprised that it wasn't quite as manic as expected. In fact, I believe that 5th Avenue at Christmas is oodles more crowded with tourists.

As evening fell upon Oxford Street, the Christmas lights came on and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside...though I'm not quite sure of the Christmas significance of an umbrella, but...um...ok...It is England; maybe that's their national symbol..?

Spending quality time with family and friends...

Now, truly...The wonderful thing about the Christmas season is the time off for enjoying friends and family. As my family is some thousands of miles away, I've been borrowing Steve's of late...

On Friday night, we went to Maz and John's new house, where his mom was also visiting. The five of us trekked through the cold, smells-like-snow evening to a rather nice pub/restaurant. That's one of the things I love most about living here: One gets so incredibly numb and drippy-nosed during one's walks in the freezing temperatures, only to walk into a cosy, fireplace-heated pub that smells like British beef and pies. Does it really get any better than that?

After dinner (in which I got my steak and ale pie, which was -- hooray! -- accompanied by my favorite, Yorkshire puddings), we went back to Maz and John's to enjoy their Christmas tree and some mulled wine. This is another warm UK treat. With every sip, the warm wine just feels like it's heating your tummy to happiness. Aww...

On Saturday, Nic had arranged for all to get together at the Tup for some holiday mirth. The Tup's Jim had arranged to get a tup (er, ram) ice sculpture to be used as a vodka shot chiller. That is, one is instructed to put one's mouth over the head or um...rump end of the ram ice sculpture whilst Jim would pour a shot of vodka through the carved channel at the top. I've seen plenty of vodka ice chiller things, admittedly, but they've typically just been in a simple slide formation. This one was a bit more interesting, I'll say. Mel Jen was a sport and volunteered first to be the shot-drinking guinea pig. She looked absolutely ladylike as she poised her mouth over the ram's heiney in preparation for the forthcoming vodka. Go on, Mel!

Soon after the ram/ice drinking moment, the DJ started up with his tunes, as it was Saturday night. Goodness, though, but it was loud! As we sat around the large table, we found ourselves screaming at each other in order to be heard. Hmm...Half-joking that we were just getting old and preferred a quieter setting in which we'd be able to actually -- gasp! -- speak with each other sans screaming, we decided to change venues, and walked down the high street to a different pub, The Nelson Arms. It must be noted here that upon moving to London, I had put down deposits on two flats in the area near the Nelson, both of which fell through. One wonders what turn my life may have taken, had I not settled in my cosy lil' ColliWood flat, met Steve that first night, and subsequently moved into this fabulous group of friends. (Whew, but I'm lucky the other flats didn't work out, though it hardly seemed such a positive thing at the time!)

Anywho, as we entered the Nelson, we were greeted with their happy (and huge!) Christmas tree, that just added to our festive spirit. We giggled and laughed through the evening, and Steve even had a chance to show off his mad dart skilz.

As we said our goodbyes and happy Christmases to each other at the close of the evening, it made me feel so good to know that everyone would be traveling home to spend time with family during the Christmas holiday. I remember reading a blurb in Seventeen magazine many moons ago (when I was a teenager) that this season should be all about presence, rather than presents. For me, it's that I'm usually catching a flight from Charlotte to NY to be with family. This year, however, I'm in a very new place, filled with all new fab friends. Whilst a bit odd to know that I won't be seeing my parents' Christmas tree for the first time in a long time (I believe there was only one holiday that I've not been home in my entire life!), I feel so completely blessed to have family joining me here in my new city. It reminds me of the old saying, "If Mohammad doesn't come to the mountain, the mountain comes to Mohammad"...which might suggest that my family is a mountain. Um. I guess so, if one considers the strength of a mountain's foundation, then yeah, it makes sense...

This season, be sure to remember the presence of those around you. I know I surely will be...

Lori C. comes to visit and I take a healthcare field trip...

It seems my invites for people to join me in London is working. (Mwah-ha-ha-ha...)

Lori hops into London...

Shortly after Casey's departure, I learned of another ol' skool friend who was coming to London for work. Hooray! Lori C., my Long Island friend from UNCC (or uni, as they say here), was hopping across the pond for meetings...and some giggle time with me. It was the first time we'd seen each other in a decade and a half. What fun!

I met Lori at her hotel in Paddington and we were off to Gordon's to get a glass of vino. Lori suggested the Nero d'Avola, which was simply yum. My little haunt was quite crowded that night, so we were bumped around here and there before we decided to move outside to hang under the less crowded, heated tent-ish/umbrella-y tables.

We giggled over date stories, exchanged some relationship talk, and discussed visas and international moves. I learned, for example, that I am, in fact not a cougar as previously thought. Rather, I would be a puma...Who knew? (The difference, for those of you who may not know, is the difference between a woman in her 40s dating a younger boy versus one in her 30s. Good to know...)

Steve joined us soon afterward, and we went for a quick bite of Italian at La Piazza before calling it a night. Lori was surprised to see that the tubes close so early and that transportation after 22:00 is rather reduced...sigh. It's not New York, sister! (winks) We set her on the tube and took our own back to Colliwood.

With Steve's exam hovering over us like a cloud above the Grusomes, the Flintstones' creepy neighbors, we decided to take it easy this weekend. On Friday, I took a break from job hunting and running around for some "me" time, which led me to the somewhat-gruesome-yet-super-interesting Old Operating Theatre museum in Southwark.

The Old Operating Theatre - best healthcare field trip ever

The museum, in the roof of St Thomas' church (which was part of St. Thomas' Hospital until 1862), was rediscovered in 1956 and offers a tunnel back to healthcare in the 1800s in the UK. In addition to the operating theatre, which I've seen only movies with such a thing!, there's also a fabulous collection of surgical objects and descriptions of their use in amputations, trephinations (operations in the skull, a new word I learned), bleeding and childbirth. The experience can be summed up in one word: fascinating.

Who knew, for example, that post-amputations blood vessels were cauterized with boiling oil and hot irons? Who knew the full story behind the development and patent of aspirin? Who knew how pills were made in the 1800s? It was an educational afternoon for me and awfully eye-opening. That is, I'm so amazed at how far we've come. It's almost crazy: if we consider boiling oil for cauterization barbaric -- and that was just 150 years ago -- what will people in a century and a half think of our current practices? We think we're so advanced with our xx-slice CT scanners and our new fancy cancer drugs, but they'll likely be viewed as just as rudimentary to future generations. Wow.

I must note here how incredibly helpful and informative the staff here are. The two heads of the museum not only gave me a rundown on healthcare history in London and the UK, but also provided stories of Charles Dickens and his...um...offbeat habits and behaviours.

The weekend gourmet trend continues...

I popped into the George after my healthcare field trip, to wait for Steve's workday end. Whilst perched on a stool near the window, I overheard three married men talking about their wives. A sentence muttered by one of the guys just cracked me up and served to yet again illustrate the differences in the sexes: "She keeps looking for new recipes for parsnips. They're parsnips, for the love! You roast them!" Giggle...

Steve arrived and we walked down the Thames, as it was a lovely night -- clear, not too cold, not too windy. We walked down the Shad Thames and had dinner at a wonderful restaurant, Le Pont de la Tour, where I had the tastiest beef bourginon ev-ah.

The next day (Saturday), still high off of my dinner and the previous night's parsnips snip, I wandered down to Berwick Market for veggies to accompany my planned Sunday sauerbraten meal. I learned that markets like this are the best place to buy veggies. Not only are they super-fresh, but they're also super-cheap. A bag containing nearly three pounds of new potatoes plus a pound and a half of snap peas cost just £2.30. Love this place. Yum.

I wondered through Soho, up Regent Street and into Mayfair, where I paused for a rest at the Coach and Horses before wandering past Berkeley Square, where the nightingale sings, and back home to Colliwood and the Berry Shoppe for last-minute dinner necessities. What a lovely afternoon!

I made my sauerbraten on Sunday afternoon. Steve popped over as a study break for dinner. After dinner, I noted how I likely should've left the meat in to cook a bit more. Beef here has such a different taste, that I'm not quite sure what, if anything, I can do to bring it back 'round to that which I'm used to. "I would think that it's a bit overcooked," said Steve. "I tend to like my beef a bit pinker..." Um. But not for stew-like meats, I tried to reason.

Maybe I must try harder than originally thought to alter my recipes...sigh...

'Tis the season! Savour the soppy moments...

'Tis the season!

Christmas is yet again upon us...I can hardly believe it. Where does the time go? And does that mean that my time here in England is quickly running out? Perish the thought!

Funny Mark used to joke that the second hand on my martini wall clock used to move much quicker than the true timing of seconds. "I guess that just means we're moving much quicker to our deaths," I morbidly replied. Nowadays, I believe it just means that we must savour every moment that life gives us, most especially those with family and friends. After all, isn't that what life is truly about?

Now, before I get all sappy (or soppy, as I believe they call it here), allow me to share yet another instance of those just-so moments...

Kerry-Ann and Greg arranged for a night of Christmas mirth at the Dog & Fox in Wimbledon, before they ventured off to sunny South Africa for a few weeks. After arriving and moving to our reserved area, we enjoyed white wine/beers and many, many laughs during the evening. From debates over the wholesomeness of a certain children's show star, to chats about traveling in today's world, to playing the BubbleWrap game on Sean's iPhone, we smiled 'round the table for hours. Good times.

The evening also gave us a chance to celebrate the new jobs of the New Year -- both Kerry-Ann's and mine. Hooray! How wonderful it will be to be a part of the working world again. Kerry-Ann will be starting soon after her return from South Africa. It's as though we're on the same schedule, she and I. She arrived just two weeks before me. She got a job just two weeks before me. She begins her job...well, at the same time as I do. Whew, we both smiled, it's nice to have that bit o' stress off of our backs in order to fully enjoy the Christmas holiday!

In her stressless mood, a celebratory Kerry-Ann also picked up the Christmas Santa hats that we're wearing in the pics. Apparently, the proceeds go to charity. Ah, yet another way to give back during the season. Doesn't it all just make you feel so good?

The cameras started snapping and we all got a bit silly. Ahem...exhibit A, to my right. What started as a picture of Kerry-Ann and Greg, our hosts for the evening, ended as one with Steve in front, and Sean pitching in his Santa hat at the moment just prior to my click.

We were still able to get couple-y pics of both our hosts and Steve and I, proudly wearing our Santa hats. It was a wonderful night, and made me again realise just how lucky I am to have found such wonderful friends here in London. It's definitely something for which I'm thankful.

Nonetheless, I still have moments of homesickness...Being far from my family. No Mexican food, as my previous post's rant clearly showed. Hearing about the parties -- and warm weather! -- back home. And still feeling a bit lost amongst the British brands every single time I go to the supermarket. While typically just fleeting thoughts, as I do feel I'm "in my element" here in England, as my boss, Stacey, had mentioned earlier this week, I did have a bit of a difficult evening the other night. And Steve was right there to pick up the pieces and make me smile again, without even a prompting word from me.

I've been arguing with Bank of America for an entire week. They were supposed to link one of my accounts for electronic bill pay last Wednesday. They didn't do it. Then I was told the system was down. Then I was told it wasn't. Then I was told my account was linked. Even though it clearly wasn't listed in the "pay from" tab. Grrr...This frustration culminated in a nearly-four-hour chat exchange with them. Argh! Added to that, I again threw out my back, and was painfully hunched over like a greater than/less than sign. Added to that was this darn sickness that came back with a vengeance and knocked me out -- again -- complete with fever, chills, and aches. Indeed. Show's over. I'm done. Stick a fork in me.

Steve smartly suggested that we have a chillaxin' Saturday night in. He invited me over to his place to watch Elf, my new fave holiday movie. It quickly moved into the number one space a few years ago after my sistah Alli introduced me whilst at home in Huntington together. Steve, however, had not yet ever seen it. Gasp! How can that be?! And would he think that I were a cotton-headed ninnymuggins for enjoying it as much as I do?

Anywho, we went back to his flat after stopping at the Berry Shoppe for a rotisserie chicken and fixin's for din-din. There, he'd cleaned up oh-so-well, and had set the table fabulously for me, complete with candles, wine glasses, and...wait for it...wait for it...a bottle of my fave, Veuve Clicquot champagne, to celebrate my new job. He obviously had listened when I'd mentioned it two weeks ago. Aw.

Whilst he slaved in the kitchen, I relaxed with a glass of wine, listening to the classical music station he'd put on for me. After our tasty candlelit dinner, we retired to the sitting room for Elf, laughs, and champagne. It was as therapeutic as I could ever imagine and, at the risk of sounding uber-schmoopie-esque, made me pause yet again to note how lucky I am to have met him. Good job, m'dear...(winks)

I had to take the pic with both the flash on and off. I was hoping to get the romantic mood lighting in the one without the flash. Um...yeah. Guess I'm not so good at a point-and-click camera. Please also note the Thanksgiving cards from both Steve and Maz and John. How incredibly thoughtful of them to send to this lil' Yank girl who was spending Turkey Day in the UK, no? C'mon, everyone, can I have an "Awwww..."?

Casey returns to London...for a third Thanksgiving in the UK

What a fun week it was with my dear, ol' friend, Casey! She's been to London plenty o' times before, of course, even living here for half a year for work. Lucky thing, too, as I'm geographically so challenged that her sense of direction was priceless throughout the week, as was her good luck on the work front! Interestingly enough, this would be the third Turkey Day in London for both of us.

Casey arrived on Tuesday afternoon, where I met her at the Colliwood tube station. We hoofed it back the few blocks to my flat and got her a bit settled in, as a GNO (Girls' Night Out, of course) awaited us that evening -- which would surely require some energy.

After popping into the Berry Shoppe (er, Sainsbury's) and then to M&S, we decided on a light lunch and picked up some cheese, crackers, and lil' meats plus some red wine. After having a little picnic in my front room, Casey took a quick catnap and prepped for the evening, where we first met up with Steve at the Tup before bussing on over to Suburban in Wimbledon for GNO with Kerry-Ann, Mel, and Cheryl-Ann.

As is always the case, both the conversation and drinks flowed freely for GNO. I'm oh-so-lucky to know these girls; they're just so sweet and fun! After a bit at Suburban, we decided to move our night to someplace a tiny bit quieter, where we could better engage in conversation. Next stop? The Terrace, a quick walk 'round the corner.

The Terrace is a pretty cocktail lounge-y place, with -- you guessed it -- a terrace that overlooks the High Street. There were some drinks on special but I won't even repeat the names -- yikes! However, we skipped those in lieu of the infamous Pimms and lemonade...which we had to send back twice. (The first: they used seltzer rather than lemonade; The second: there was no booze in the drinks; The third: ahh...perfection. Yum!)

After our English-y drink, Kerry-Ann picked up a bottle of Veuve Clicquot to celebrate her new job. Hooray, Kerry-Ann! Talk about good news! She'd arrived in London about two weeks before me, and well understands the frustration of not having a job. Thus, I was particularly pleased to hear about her accomplishment. Rock on, girl!

Some other highlights of the week...

Casey and I stopped at the V&A to see the fashion wing collection, and smiled over the period dresses and threads of the day. ("I could see myself wearing that. A-lines are always a good shape...")

We had a faux-Mexican dinner at Wahaca in Covent Garden (yes, it's purposely a bad spelling of Oaxaca, which bugs me). Meh...definitely not the good "dirty Mexican" (as Casey called it) that I enjoy. In fact, to quote Casey's Facebook status update we'd "had a Mexican Thanksgiving this year that wasn't up to Andrea's standards, I will give her that for so many years in the south!" I'll probably not be back 'round and instead will try some of the other places that the ex-pats suggested.

Another slight dining disappointment was the Thai place we tried on Friday afternoon, Busaba Eathai, in Soho. Now, I'm no Thai food expert, but I was looking forward to my favorite pad si ew dish. However, the one on the menu was seafood-loaded -- ick. "I'd like the pad si ew, please, but without seafood, take out the prawn, squid, and scallop, and add beef." This is a simple request; I've done it before without hassle. Nope, not this time. They refused to accommodate. To add insult to injury, the manager later came over and said, "I heard you were upset that we wouldn't substitute. That's because the chef has made the recipe to go with the seafood as-is."
"That's fine," I replied, "I just simply won't return." At this point, I almost wanted to stick my tongue out at him like a five-year-old, but I'm proud to say I held back...much to Casey's relief, I'm sure. Really, though, if you're not coming over to my table to make me happy, don't bother coming over at all. And if a chef can't substitute seafood for beef in such a simple dish, he's not much of a chef in my book. Meh.

Casey and I met up with her very fun London co-worker, Annette, one evening. Annette is actually Irish; she works in the London office. We crossed the bridge and walked down to the Horniman at Hays, which was awfully quaint and a "proper pub," as the English folks would say. When Casey advised she'd have a cider, Annette looked at her strangely and said, "You do realise that's a knackers drink..?" Ah, yet another new term. Apparently, that's akin to a drink in a brown bag, something typically assigned to those less fortunate...(winks)

We also picked up tickets to see the Swingin' 60s London photography exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery, From Beatles to Bowie, which was absolutely phenom. Of course, neither Casey nor I knew all of the artists that were highlighted.
"Who's Cliff Richard? Was he a big back deal then?" I asked Casey.
"I've no idea, but I do know that the ex's grandmother absolutely loved his Christmas album..."
We also realised that afternoon that Casey and I both have a thing for English boys...though we may well be rather alone in that generalisation. ("It's just you and me on that, sister!" hehe)

Afterward, we went to the infamous Lamb and Flag in Soho, one of the oldest pubs in London, for a quick drink and a break on our lil' worn-out tootsies, particularly after our successful quest through the bookshops in Charing Cross on the hunt for the impossible-to-find Middleditch book, The London Mapguide. Hooray! I got it! It's a great book, and shows the tube lines, the bus lines, and points of interest, including good ol' pubs and restaurants, plus museums and the like...sorta like a mini A-Zed.

One evening, we wandered up to my fave haunt, Gordon's wine bar, where we sat outside in the chilly night air, talking about everything from careers, to boys, to cities and moves. What a lovely evening. We then moved up the way, after meeting up with Steve, to The Coal Hole. What an interesting place. Casey thought of it as a bit of an "old man's pub," so we hung outside for a bit, trying to decide our next move...In the middle of our debate of next stops, we realised that some guy was stealthily snapping our pic. Um...ok, that was a bit odd. I just chalked it up to the fact that we're oh-so-celeb looking that he just had to capture the image. (winks) I almost wonder if his pics came out better than mine, which is surely the case. Even with a point-and-click camera, I'm rubbish at taking non-fuzzy photos. Sigh...We all have our crosses to bear, I suppose.

We moved up to The International for a proper Pimms and lemonade (no need to send 'em back this time!), where Steve and I witnessed some crazy drunk girl outside, yelling at the bouncer. The weird thing? The boyfriend half-heartedly tried to hold her back, but wouldn't remove her from the scene. How very odd. "Whew," I told Steve, "I can guarantee you'd never see me like that." It's never attractive to be the drunk girl...I wish more young ladettes would realise this. Indeed.

Casey and I did quite a bit of window shopping during her visit. It only served to remind me just how much I want a job. ("Ugh -- Look at how cute those shoes are! I have to find a job...stat!") We walked down Regent and Oxford Streets, stopping at pricey department stores like Selfridges and boutique-y shops which displayed items that I can only right now dream of affording.

Sadly, the weather wasn't as pleasant as one would've hoped for an out-of-towner's visit. Sunday, for example, was not only bitterly cold and windy, but with a near-torrential downpour. Good times. Nonetheless, we trudged on and walked down 'round Casey's old 'hood, through Butler's Wharf and the picturesque Shad Thames, which is as old world London as one can get.

We endured the rain for as long as we could until, looking like little drowned rats, we hailed a cab to drive us across my Tower Bridge to Gordon's for Sunday roast. As we exited the cab, the driver said, "Good for you girls, braving this weather. Well done!" (giggle)

We had a yummy roast dinner in the dark cave-like room at Gordon's, the table tilted so much that we feared our gravy would wind up dripping down the table into Casey's lap. Good times.

It was such a fun time, spent with one of my oldest and dearest hometown friends. My flat seemed so boring and empty upon Casey's departure. Now all I can do is open the invite to everyone else..! Anyone want a free place to stay in Londres? (winks)

Next up? My family visit for Christmas. I'm oh-so-excited, I can barely contain myself. We've already scheduled Handel's Messiah at St. Martin in the Fields and a few other ideas. If anyone has suggestions for must-dos during Christmas week in London, let me know!

As a p.s., it seems that Casey was a bit of luck on the job front. I have my first contract job, beginning January 5 with the NHS. How perfect! Although just a two-month gig, I'm so excited for the challenge at hand and the cool folks with whom I'll be working. Hooray!

So...a ladybug gets onto the tube...(no, it's not a joke)

It never ceases to amaze me how different America and England truly are. I mean, I get it that there are McDonald's and Starbucks here, and that one can shop in a Gap or even dine on Nando's legendary, Portuguese, flame-grilled, peri-peri chicken (which inevitably makes me want to yell out for "The Amazing Nandoooo!" I've no idea why...). But yet even with all of these, our countries do differ in oh-so-many ways.

Let's look at the newspapers...This evening, I picked up The Sun, which I already do realise isn't exactly the most serious media outlets. However, there's an entire page-6 spread on last night's X Factor show. (Gasp! The twins were knocked off by the judges!) A more serious article two pages later focused on flood-ravaged Workington, where the headline "Looters target washed-up cars" was accompanied by an image of a stripped Audi (buh-bye hubcaps and wheels) with the caption, Looted...stranded Audi stripped by lowlife thieves. It's the "lowlife thieves" thing that cracks me up. Gotta love the manners here, and the absolute disgust for criminal acts. And I'm not even going to go into the space taken up for random celebrity news and gossip within the first few pages of the paper. (Wait -- Posh Beckham bought her boys yoghurt in Hollywood whilst sporting a new curly 'do?!? Oh, my goodness! Turn to page 8 -- stat! Gotta get the story!)

Newspapers aside, there are some things that, while I don't necessarily understand them, I just adore. Let's take some of the fun names here...Whilst walking to the Berry Shoppe (that's Sainsbury's, by the way -- Steve just makes fun of the way I pronounce it) the other morning, I paused to enjoy the River Wandle. As I watched the babbling stream below the bridge, I noticed a sign with a map of the area: Pickle Ditch. Now one must pause for a moment to reflect on this interesting name: Were there really once oodles of pickles thrown into the ravine below the bridge? Did ancient explorers find empty jars of pickles in the river, tossed in by careless passers-by post-purchase from the Berry Shoppe? Or was it just an evolution of a proper name from years gone by? Meh, whatever it is, I like it...And it reminds me of the just-'round-the-corner tradition of hiding the German pickle (or Weihnachtsgurke) in the Christmas tree for an extra treat to the one who finds it...which turns out to be an urban legend, it seems.

One of the more...um...head-scratching that I've seen yet thus far: Last Sunday morning, I'd run down to get a newspaper from the corner store and saw this interesting ladybug walking toward the tube. Not quite sure why anyone would be dressed like this on a Sunday morning at 10 a.m., particularly as Halloween was three weeks ago, but um...ok. To each her bug-y own, I s'pose...I only wish I'd been better able to capture the expression on the guy at the right. Classic. (giggle)

Last weekend's activities...soon to be updated for this one's

Ah, at the risk of sounding like oh-so-many blogger folks out there, I have sadly fallen behind in my postings. I suspect it's because I've been working so hard during the weekdays to find a job, that all else has taken a bit of backseat until the weekend. Let's recap...

We started the weekend with a Friday dinner at Rehab...um, the restaurant here in the Wood 'Hood (not to be confused with Therapy in Charlotte). Whilst munching on calzones and drinking some red wine, Steve got a text from Nic that she and Clint were on their way down for dinner, too. Following their arrival, we all four chatted in the front lounge. Moments later, in walk Ruth and Tree. Then Greg. Then Kerry-Ann. It became a nice little gathering and we found ourselves laughing and sharing stories in the back private room. Bonus: After the jazz-y/blues singer finished his set, he joined our little party. Interesting touch for the evening...good times.

Steve's mom hopped into London on Saturday for an afternoon of laughs with her son. The day before, I'd sent Steve an e-mail list of about two dozen field trips that I'd like to do as a bouncing off point for what we could plan for his mom (e.g. touring Number 1 London/Apsley House, the Old Operating Theatre museum, the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology, in which staff offer torches for gloomy corners and Gallery 2 holds Minnie, the head of a mummy -- y'know, the creepy and macabre that I love oh-so-much). We figured we'd see what his mom would care to do and make a day of it.

On Saturday morning, Steve and I drove to Maz and John's and, after a short discussion with his mom, we decided that it'd be nice to hop up to Little Venice in Maida Vale and then ride up the canal to the London zoo. (Note: Little Venice does not guarantee fabulous Italian restaurants in the same way that Little Italy in Manhattan does; rather, it's known for its canals. However, Steve was quick to try to allay my disappointment, saying, "Well, I'm sure there are Italian restaurants there...")

We trained/tubed it on out to Maida Vale and, as we exited the tube, we found ourselves in the midst of incredibly high gusts of wind and a rather heavy drizzle. Taking shelter in a familiar Cust pub, Gordon Ramsay's Warrington, for a lovely bite of lunch (I've never seen a burger plated so fancily!), we rethought our original agenda. Instead, we opted to go to the National Science Museum, where we'd be dry and warm inside.

We walked down museum row, past the V&A and the National History Museum, pausing to peek at the ice skaters on the seasonal rink outside the History Museum. ("What's a Zamboni?" asked Steve...Yeah, there are Yank terms that they don't understand, either. Somehow, that makes me feel a bit better.)

As we wandered through the museum's exhibits, learning about turn-of-the-century industrial machinery, DNA, human emotions, ships, technology and more, we exchanged silly remarks that set us into high giggles. Three and a half hours later, we'd completed just three of the five floors, yet were rather beat. We walked past Maz's place of employment, the Royal Marsden Hospital, and escaped the wet weather in a charming little pub on a quiet street, The Crown. It was cosy and had a large skylight in the dining room that would've surely been beautiful in sunny weather.

One quick drink later, we were back to walking the streets, and strolling down King's Road, window shopping and sharing tales. Steve's mom mentioned that during the 60's, this was a popular "swinging London" area. It was very cool and positively filled with fab shoe shops. ("Now I have to find a job quickly; I want to buy those shoes! Think I should mention that in the next interview?")

We finished the evening back at Maz and John's, eating baked ziti, and watching the movie Ratatouille (aww, too cute). It was a nice, quiet Saturday night in, and was just what I'd needed.

Up next? Um...I guess what I did six days ago...(winks) In the meantime, I'll be cleaning and prepping for Casey's arrival on Tuesday. Hooray!

How many days does one get to celebrate one’s birthday? Apparently, in London it’s a week.

Last Monday was Steve’s birthday. As I’d mentioned in a previous post, I find it a rather odd custom here in London that folks tend to organise their own birthday gatherings, but meh...whatever. The morning of his birthday, Steve sent out a reminder e-mail to all, advising that he’d be at the Tup at 7 for those who wanted to wish him a happy birthday.

After meeting with yet another recruiter that morning, I hoofed it up to Camden Market to a really fun store, Oddballs, to try to find a gift for Steve. Oddballs sells all sorts of wacky-fun things like juggling balls, unicycles, and diabolos. If you’ve never seen someone working a diabolo, take a peek. It’s pretty cool. When we’d gone there a few weeks ago, there was a guy playing with one in the store. It’s kind of like the yo-yo's awesome cousin. Anywho, Steve had noted that he could use some new juggling balls, which I picked up (along with a kazoo...that no one seemed to recall how to play). Good times.

We met at the Tup that evening, and Landlord Dan was up there in addition to the ol’ gang. Dan bought Steve a yard of ale (which, I was told equates to about three-plus pints) and we all followed Steve outside to cheer him on and watch him pound down this ridiculous amount of beer. Now, I’m not sure if it was the pressure of it all or the fact that people don’t exactly chug-a-lug in England, but I think Steve wound up wearing more ale than drinking it. His shirt was positively soaked, so as we went inside to have some birthday cake, he put on Greg’s sweater, which Greg had so generously offered.

Thursday night was Guy Fawkes Night, celebrated with fireworks and fun. It must be noted here that the people had been setting off fireworks all week long. Every time I heard one go off, I’d cringe a little, convinced it was gunshots...then I realised I'm in London, not Charlotte. (hehe) I think Star was with me on that one, as she kept tweaking with each loud bang. It was kinda cool, however, to see fireworks each night from my windows. You can sort of make out the fireworks in the distance in this pic, taken from my bedroom window. There were several shows to see, and Steve came over that night for a birthday dinner of steak au poivre, and we dined whilst watching the Dave channel and listening to the skyrockets outside – very cool.

On Friday night, I joined Steve’s family to celebrate his birthday. We started at The Alexandra pub in Wimbledon, then moved to dinner at Suk Saran, with its fabulous Thai food, then back to The Alexandra for a quick post-dinner drink together. (You may recall that The Alexandra was included in the Wimbledon ghost walk blog post a few weeks ago...Hooray for haunted pubs!) After returning back to our Colliers Wood ‘hood, Steve and I popped into the Tup for one last celebratory birthday drink with the other locals. (winks)

Was Steve’s birthday over then? Oh, of course not! We still had another day to go (at minimum!).

The gang met on Saturday afternoon at The Alexandra in Clapham to watch England vs. Australia in rugby. Now this is one sport with our lil’ reserved English folks don’t hold back. Whether it was shouts from across the room (“C’mon, England!!”) , exchanged stats across tables (“Did you know Jonny Wilkinson Wilkinson overtook Neil Jenkins' world test record of 1090 points last March?”), or chants of “Swing low, sweet chariot...”, they were all out in force. Best game quote goes to Chris, re: Jonny Wilkinson, rugby superstar, who was all over the field (I believe Steve even used “omnipotent”), as he said, “Those other 14 players are just superfluous!” Love it...hehe...

Following the 9-18 England loss (sigh), we wound up with great real estate in a downstairs area of the pub, watching the Wales vs. The All Blacks (South Africa). Hungry, yet not wanting to give up our area, we grabbed bites in shifts from the hole in the wall next door. As the place began to crowd in anticipation of the much-publicised David and Goliath fight, we decided to leave and return back to the Wood 'hood, where we watched the fight at South African Anton’s before calling it a night.

Good times: I returned home to find that Star had as much of a party as Steve, tearing into the garbage and making a well-distributed mess through my flat - yet again. Sigh...My kingdom for a proper trash container. Perhaps that's what I'll add to my next birthday wish list..? (winks)