Continuing Visitor Season

Last Saturday, Kenz and I decided to emerge from the flat to read in the park. The sun was up and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Not knowing how long the weather would last, we grabbed our books and hustled on out. 

Our little section of Burgess Park; it goes on for about three quarters of a mile to the left.

The sun was misleading. We sat outside for nearly twenty minutes before acquiescing to the fact that it was still too cold. The wind made it feel about 45 degrees. Whoops.

But, before heading in, we got the opportunity to see this strangeness. Who has a 4x4 in Central London?

 That evening, we met up with newly engaged Owen and Celia for celebratory champagne and water!

Congratulations you two! Finally! 

The evening went as you'd expect: several friends got together and asked lots of questions O&C don't have the answers to yet. Things like when is the wedding and where is the wedding and on and on. It was delightful. The two of them are awesome. I was told, after getting engaged to McKenzie, that I was 'batting out of my league'. I agreed. I think the same applies to Owen. We both will have 'married up'.

On Sunday, I met up with a friend of mine and headed out to the London Marathon.

Spectators

We arrived after all the elite runners had finished. We walked from Southbank to Embankment to the Houses of Parliament to Buckingham Palace, through St. James' Park, and finished at Horseguards Parade. Afterward, we walked all the way back to Victoria Station. All in all, we probably walked less than five miles. Needless to say, I was impressed with each and every single runner I saw finishing a 26.2 mile run! In fact, I hadn't planned on being so inspired; it was a nice disconfirmed expectation.

Embankment

"You've got stamina! Call me!"

Lots of runners were in 'fancy dress'. 

Random Photo break:

Dustin, finding out he and I can iMessage from across the pond

Deptford High Street Market on a Saturday morning

JCVD's smug face

#KenzFace

#KenzFace

The entrance to The Hoop & Grapes has a distinctive lean to it

Kenz, enjoying the fact that we can leave the windows open now.

As mentioned, visitor season is upon us. Rob and Casey arrived from Knoxville on Tuesday afternoon and have been bouncing around the city since.

They didn't get much sleep on the flight over, but were eager to show off what they've learned in their ballroom dancing classes. 

Casey is a Harry Potter fanatic. This is her snuggie.

Dinnertime decorum

"It's seems easier to take a picture from the bus than the ground" - Casey

One of Casey's priorities, Potter fan that she is, was to go to Platform 9 and 3/4 at King's Cross Station. This is the fictitious platform where all the little fictitious wizards boarded the fictitious train to take them to their fictitious wizardry school. We didn't know whether or not it was at King's Cross or St. Pancras Station, though, so we strolled through St. Pancras first. Whereas we didn't find the platform, we did find a piano in the middle of the main terminal. Plastered on the side were the words, "Play me, I'm yours."

Casey and I both nudged, poked, and prodded Robert into playing. He and I agreed that he should play Ludovico Einaudi's Nuvole Bianche, which is a stunningly beautiful piece that I recommend you listen to while you finish reading this post. At least five or six people stopped to take a photo, video, or just listen while on their way through the terminal. Robert is just about the only person I know who can plop down at a piano, in a crowded train terminal, and bang out an awesome song from memory. It was pretty G. 

Robert's piano skills? Top level.

We did finally make it to the fictitious platform, which is, in real life, a luggage cart attached to the wall with a line of people waiting to get their photo taken by a professional photographer so that they can walk ten feet to the left and buy said picture in the gift shop, which also has tons of specialized merch for those who've made the pilgrimage.

Casey didn't let Robert or I in the picture because we hadn't read the books. I'm not sure we would've joined even if she had...

It's easy to poke fun at fandom, but we're all guilty of it in some way or another. I'm fully aware that I'm  mildly denigrating an adult obsession with children's fiction despite the fact that I often throw plastic discs at metal baskets and call it a sport.

Yesterday, they rode the London Eye as I got sunburnt in the grass, waiting on them. We strolled around Southbank, had lunch, went to a super legit candy store (that has peanut butter M&M's and Pop Tarts!), visited the Tate Modern, Millenium Bridge, and ate Swordfish Kenz cooked for us. All parts awesome.

The view from the Tate Modern

Shopping for gifts, riding the bus, taking in the views

Lunch, tube, more views

Rob has been doing CrossFit for about two years, and was disappointed to find out about my recent arm injury extravaganza. We'd been looking forward to getting to my gym together. Despite the injury, however, he convinced me to go with him this morning. I sat there, watching him, falling into a pit of despair, realizing I'll be in this sling for another 20 days.

The sling also explains/justifies the thin word count on today's blog post.

At the moment, the happy tourists are out on their own, checking out the Tower of London and the British Museum. I'm hanging back to catch up on work and Kenz is stuck in the library, finishing an extra busy week of schoolwork. We'll likely take them to the markets this weekend. They're headed to Paris early next week and the Harry Potter studio tour on Wednesday. Casey is beside herself with excitement. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't somewhat contagious. Maybe I'll read the books after all. The least I could do is re-watch the movies, right? Whatever.

Green on Green and Gray on Gray

That's it for this week. Thanks for reading and have a great weekend!

Perspective & Proportion

Our weekend was spent recovering from illness. Kenz stayed in the bedroom as I was relegated to the couch. 

By Sunday, we were healthy enough to leave the house. Lucky for us, the weather had finally turned. It felt like the first day of spring. Kenz went on a photography walk with Alejandra (for school) and I met up with Owen, Celia, and most of Owen's family. We had a picnic at Southbank. 

Hanging with Owen's family is in my top-5 'things to do' in London. I feel like a surrogate son/brother when I'm with them. You know you're with good people when you lose all sense of time when hanging out. We sat their for either twenty minutes or two hours.

I think everyone pictured got sunburnt. Brits aren't used to that much Vitamin D. 

Monday rolled around. I don't particularly like Mondays, and I'm not sure I know anyone who does. In fact, I think I'd like to keep it that way. And this Monday was tax day, so all the more reason to want to stay in bed. Alas, I woke at 4:40, like usual, and headed out toward the gym.

Compulsory Shard photograph 

As I neared the end of my workout, I tripped and fell. I had been running, and the fall was a bit more intense than usual. A lot more intense, in fact. But, I was consumed with a mixture of adrenaline and embarrassment that had me persevere through the last few minutes, despite a sharp pain in my arm. I'd fallen on my left hand and just assumed that I 'jammed' it. But, after grocery shopping, showering, cooking breakfast, and icing it, the pain had not subsided. I decided to go with Kenz to the walk-in clinic. She had a regular doctor's appointment, and I wanted to make sure this pain in my arm was just a sprain or something equally unimportant.

I'd aimed to avoid the doctor's office altogether while we were over here. Not because of the NHS or the (untrue and unfounded) idea that socialized healthcare is somehow 'less' than what is available in the US. I don't know where the stories of hours-long lines to see a doctor come from, but they haven't been Kenz's experience thus far.

No - I aimed to avoid the doctor because I simply don't like going.

At our local doctor's office - The Hurley Group in Peckham

I had to wait for about 40 minutes before I was seen - not too far off what I could expect at a walk-in clinic in the US. The nurse practitioner said she couldn't rule out a bone injury and that I'd need to go get an X-ray.

This was turning out to be an exceptionally bad Monday. At least my medical bill so far was $0.00.

Then, while I was at the bus stop on my way to the hospital, a pregnant woman passed out right in front of me. Once she came to, she said she was anemic, and three of us sat with her while we waited on the ambulance to show up. I hadn't felt so helpless in a long time, waiting with her as she appeared to slip into a mild panic about her fall, her health, and her baby's health. After she was cared for, I climbed into the number 12 bus and was on my way to St. Thomas' hospital, blaming Monday.

I did not ask to hitch a ride.

Upon arriving at St. Thomas', I was registered by the nicest lady who insisted that I was "entitled" to treatment there. I had been a bit apologetic for showing up, claiming that surely this arm thing wasn't a thing and that I usually try to stay out of hospitals - especially since I wasn't a citizen. She refused to accept my premise, saying that healthcare was a right, not a privilege.

While waiting for my X-ray, I caught a game show on whatever channel the waiting room was tuned to. I thought it was an interesting bit of cultural anthropology:

Contestants must answer a series of about 15 true/false questions perfectly in order to win 1,000 pounds. The categories of questions range from Zoology to flags. I wouldn't have won. And, let's be honest - in America, if someone could do that, they'd win a sum with an extra three zeroes!

My X-rays showed a fracture on my radius bone, at the head, where it connects to the elbow joint. The nurse practitioner who read my X-rays fitted me with a sling, told me to keep my arm in it come Hell or high water, and scheduled an appointment for me in the hospital's 'Fracture Clinic' for Thursday. My medical bill upon leaving the hospital: $0.00.

Mondays

One of the books I read suggests that insanity is "a loss of perspective and sense of proportion."

Upon returning to the house Monday afternoon, I was self-piteous, thinking, "I can't type, I can't do chores, I can't exercise, I can't, I can't, I can't..." I was one big ball of woe is me.

Then I got an email from my brother-in-law, Jerry. He told me to turn on the news - that some bad stuff had just gone down in Boston. Kenz and I watched, mouths agape, as the BBC reported on the tragedy that had just happened at the Boston Marathon. We watched what we could, contacted everyone we knew in Boston, found out they were safe, and then had to turn off the TV.

All that stuff about hating Mondays and being upset at my own situation quickly left. For the rest of the day, Kenz and I discussed the event, spent time in thought about terrorism - it's causes and effects - and how to respond to it, and simply tried to make sense of it all.

The best I could come up with was a watered-down version of what David Foster Wallace had to say back in 2007.

*****

It seems callous to continue with the blog. I only do so to try and bring a smile to some American faces who have likely been without one this week:

Since I can't use my left arm, Kenz has been charged with doing lots more things, including cutting up my food.

It makes me feel like I'm five years old

It's strange to watch her cut up a steak - she hasn't eaten red meat in about 15 years.

She does a damn fine job of cutting cubes, though!

I went for a walk on Wednesday and found a new trail not far from our house. As you know, there's a big park right out our front door. I'd never been past the far end of the park before, but the good weather and lack of one-handed activities had me exploring further than normal. The 'new' trail follows an old canal that has since been filled in.

"In 1801 a 40 feet wide canal was dug from Surrey Quays in Rotherhithe, reaching Peckham in 1826. The Canal known then as the Grand Surrey Canal, became a hub of industry with horse-drawn barges bringing timber for the construction industry and limestone to be made into cement. The canal authorities generated income from tolls and fishing licences. In Victorian times a local pub hired rowing boats while swimming and illegal dog racing along the towpath drew small crowds and the attention of "the law". In the 20th Century the industries along its bank dwindled and in 1974 the Canal was finally drained to eliminate the danger of people falling in and drowning. From 1995 Southwark Council set about regenerating the canal area. In particular the canal head which became the site of Peckham Square."

I'm not transcribing this sign. Stuff about plants and stuff...

This was one of the two old bridges that used to cross the Canal

There were tons of people out walking, jogging, and riding bikes. The change in weather has brought everyone out.

The end of the Canal walk - Peckham Square. The brightly colored building is Peckham Library.

Considering the fact that all I can do for the next two weeks is walk, I'll be sure to snap a few more pictures of Burgess Park. We've got a 'lake' [read: pond] that has lots of ducks, some man-made hills, football pitches, a playground, tennis courts, ping-pong tables, an outdoor gym, and lots of walking paths. 

I went to the Fracture Clinic yesterday. Diagnosis: sling for 4 weeks. At least they got me a better sling this time. 

That's it from us this week. Our hearts are with y'all in the US, and we hope that next week is exceptionally better than the one we've just finished. 

The Plague!

You ever have one of those vacations where everyone gets sick? It took all week, but, by the end of it, everyone was ailing.

Friday afternoon saw the arrival (and immediate nap) of Whitney, the sick, bedridden McKenzie coughing all day, and an eventual dinner with the family sans Kenz. 

Refusing to accept the fact that she was legitimately sick, Kenz got up with us on Saturday morning, and we took Whitney and Patti to Southbank for a stroll in the late morning. However, by mid-afternoon, looking like death warmed over, Kenz returned to the bed. I took the family to Borough Market. It was sunny and warm, which meant everyone in London had the same plan. The market reached critical mass at about the same time we arrived. 

I've gotten good at breakfast. 

Patti getting a 'pitta' behind the Royal Festival Hall

Holmes

Southbank street performers galore on a warm Saturday

Wood carvings for sale

 Off to Borough Market!

Patti & Michael had gotten used to riding the bus...

...as evidenced by their interest in screens rather than windows.

One day, I'll take this tour. 

A crowded Borough Market

I finally pulled the trigger on a duck sandwich

The duck people always have the longest line. 

The middle of this shot is the line for the duck sandwiches.

Michael had decided he was going to retire to the room on Saturday night and Kenz was already in bed, so I hopped over to a box office and got some tickets to see Les Mis for Whitney, Patti, and I. It worked out perfectly, because Michael had no desire to see the show, I'm sure Kenz is nearly 'done' with it for a few years, but Whit & Patti had never been before and wanted to go. 

For the none of you who are interested, the new staging in celebration of the 25th anniversary of the show is in effect. The entire show hasn't changed, but it is a different show. I was rewarded and engaged throughout. 

Maxin' & Relaxin' in the lounge

Sneak attack!

We saw these Waldos out on a scavenger hunt on our way to Les Mis

Sunday morning, Kenz was determined to hang out with the fam. She'd been as disappointed as I'd ever seen her for missing out on precious family time. It was a heartbreaker.

We had tickets to see a Sunday matinee of The Lion King.

On our way to meet the folks at their hotel

Everyone enjoyed the show

By Monday, we had our second casualty. Patti had 'caught' whatever it was that Kenz had. Kenz was in bed, Patti was in bed, Whitney and Michael entertained themselves, and I worked all day. That night, however, Kenz and I cooked dinner at our place so that everyone could hang out for a bit.

I stained my hands...

...prepping for the beetroot fritters Kenz has come to love...

...only this time they didn't really work out. And, by 'really', I mean 'not at all'.

It's fun to have my in-laws at our house! Lord knows we spend enough time at theirs!

Beans, beets, and steaks

Whitney made a salad.

Just one person in the kitchen is crowded, let alone three.

These two were smart to stay out of it.

We also had sautéed mushrooms and onions. Pretty good spread for a Monday night. 

The sickling filling her plate.

Michael had retired to the couch afterward; Whitney gave him the 'unicorn' treatment.

Tuesday was a trip to St. Paul's Cathedral. Kenz was still in bed, sick. Patti was persevering, but only just. Michael had never fully recovered from whatever it was he caught the day before he flew over here. Whitney and I were in perfect health. 

Except for the fact that she was still jet-lagged.

Bus candid

St. Paul's has lots of levels. There's the crypt, the main cathedral floor, the whispering gallery (30 meters & 257 steps up from the cathedral floor), the stone gallery (53 meters & 376 steps), and the golden gallery (85 meters & 528 steps). The last time that Kenz and I visited St. Paul's, the stone and golden galleries were closed for refurbishment. I had no concept for how high these galleries were, nor did I have any clue as to what kind of stairs led to the upper galleries. My curiosity was nagging at me; I told the fam we'd meet back at a central location in an hour or so, and that my first priority was to climb these stairs. They hung back to listen to the personalized audio tour about the crypt and cathedral floor (something I'd already done).

I didn't realize what I was getting myself into. As a person with a significant fear of heights, it was both good and bad that I'd gone alone. On the one hand, no one had to see me panicking - but, on the other hand, I was all alone in my panic!

The stairs to the whispering gallery were broad, short, uniform spiral stairs with many people going up and down at the same time. I was distracted by my excitement. Once I spilled out onto the gallery's walkway, I immediately sat down and took a deep breath. At 53 meters, I'd reached my limit, even with a guard rail that was as high as my shoulders. The whispering gallery gets its name from the fact that you can hear someone whispering from all the way on the other side of the circle - about 30 meters away. I wasn't allowed to take pictures in the cathedral; I know that hasn't stopped me before, but these volunteers had eagle eyes!

I don't know what drove me to do it. Maybe it was pictures for the blog. Maybe it was seeing if I had the stones. Maybe it was imagined competition with Kenz, who I knew would be egging me on. Whatever it was, I began my approach to the stone gallery.

What I hadn't realized before embarking on the next set of stairs was the fact that there is only one set of 'up' stairs. And these stairs weren't like the last ones; these were narrow, steep spiral sets. By the end of the first set, I'd realized what a huge mistake I'd made, but there was no going back. It was a one way trip to the stone gallery. I climbed with both my hands on the rail.

Out of breath, sweating, and verging on a panic attack, I exited the cathedral onto the stone gallery. Luckily, the guard rails went above my head. I felt safe enough to walk around the perimeter, and we were allowed to take photographs once 'outside'.

I'm always scared to take pictures on 'edges' of anything, though, because I'm sure I'll drop my phone. I clutched my phone with the intensity of an Olympic weightlifter.

Looking east, toward The City.

From east to south

Directly south. That's the Millenium Bridge leading to the Tate Modern

Again, I don't know what drove me to do it, but I took a deep breath and headed toward the golden gallery. Probably just because it was there and I didn't want to 'lose' to a set of stairs. Each level became less and less crowded, so I wasn't holding anyone up as I climbed with the speed of a sloth. I would laugh at myself for being so scared, then panic to myself for laughing, then laugh again. The process repeated about every third stair. Folks, I'd not been this scared in years. Years.

The golden gallery had a guardrail that came up to just below my shoulders. I hugged the back wall. I was paranoid that everyone else could see the thunderstorm in my head and hear the intensity with which I was breathing (not from the stairs - from adrenaline). I was in my own little cocoon of fear, barely able to appreciate the views.

Looking west 

Looking east

The Millenium & Tate again

South

You know that whole 'don't look down' bs people feed you when you're up high? How on earth are you supposed to descend stairs without looking down? The return was just as frightful as the ascent!

This is what I was dealing with

And s@!# like this!

At least I took some pictures to prove I'd done it, right?

 We met in the crypt and reviewed gift shop purchases.

As you know by now, former Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher died on Tuesday past. As we exited St. Paul's, we saw several news crews setting up in front of the cathedral. Her funeral will be at the cathedral; I guess folks were getting a jump on coverage.

We met Kenz for an early dinner at the Cheshire Cheese - one of the more famous pubs in London, known for being the place Dickens wrote much of his work.

The girls had fun with my glasses

And it happened. By Tuesday night, I started getting sick, despite regularly claiming that I don't get sick. Whitney was the only one still standing.

Wednesday was the Tower of London. I have to say, after having done most of the tourist stuff several times with various guests, the Tower is one of my favorites. I especially like the beefeaters, though. Each time I take a tour, it makes me want to be a park ranger. 

Kenz started feeling better!

Pre-tour snacks

The Crown Jewels

Examining the codpiece in the suit of armor

Quite a morbid little model set: "The Executioner"

By Thursday, we'd done most of the hits, but still had the British Museum. Whit stayed back because she was finally sick. Everyone. Sick. To some degree or another. 

Kenz and I took Patti & Michael all over the world in a matter of hours. 

We spent the most time in the Egypt area

 The place was ram-packed with people.

Michael and I never missed an opportunity to sit down. I thought Kenz was a museum slowpoke; she's a roadrunner compared to Patti. Michael and I were, at minimum, three times as fast as those two.

Japan was much less crowded. I think the fact that it was three flights up was the reason.

Michael was impressed with the swords

He was also impressed with the scale of the museum itself.

Rome. Beards.

Memes are older than the Internet

Success!

On our way to meet an ailing Whitney, we stopped for a quick shop-up. Michael wanted some new handkerchiefs.

This is an accurate representation of what's inside the store.

Note the bow-tied duck

It's his last day in the city and he's still stopping at menus. Cracks me up. I love it.

Everyone was mildly depressed that it was the final day of the trip. No one wanted to go back to the hotel, but didn't really want to go to another museum or sight, so we decided to go see a movie. No one was even that thrilled to go see Oblivion (that new Tom Cruise vehicle), but it was the 'best' thing out. We headed to Leicester Square.

Fatigue + illness = these faces

Popcorn thief!

And, finally, Michael got some Italian. 

You'd be lying if you said you'd seen a bigger pepper grinder.

Quintessential Whitney

Saying goodbye sucks. As a result, I'm not posting any pictures from this morning's departure. The in-laws are flying over the Atlantic as I type, all sick, all exhausted, and surely all irritable. Kenz is back in bed, sleeping - a result of doing too much as soon as she started to feel better. I'm looking forward to the weekend for some recovery myself. My cough won't go away. I'd rather have the in-laws back and the cough on the return flight!

All in all, it was fantastic to have the family over for such an extended stay. It meant the world to have some family around.

Thanks for reading. We'll be nursing illness and hoping for some spring weather this weekend - here's to y'all having a good one!