11/19
Had a wonderful afternoon at the National Gallery, looking at pictures that
were reflections. Ray tracing, in computer terms, is apparently a long developed
art, stemming from the renaissance, and maybe earlier. After cruising around
the museum for a while, I was pretty beat. The neatest exhibit was a Three Dimensional
boat. Sure, like a Virtual Boat only, this one was drawn about 1770, and it
was flat, circular image which reflected up onto a silver canister of some kind.
In the reflected image, there was the boat, in full detail and looking astonishingly
real... Now I just have to look up Matthew 10:16 so I can understand the references
in the show. Something about a girl named Prudence, I think. And Venus. Always
like seeing her.
I did get a rare bit of Welsh Rarebit, served by a Welsh lass from a town whose name I could never pronounce because my Gaelic is just a little rusty. So please, excuse me. And dinner was raw oysters and this strange dish called "Steak Tartar" which was really good, but I think it was a little over cooked for my tastes. Before anyone suggests news about "mad cow disease," there's nothing to worry about as long as I get next week's scopes posted.
Theatre for the night was a traveling minstrel show called "Carmen." It was a delightful show, too, especially the bit where the lady dances with the horse. No kidding, there was lady doing a Flamenco dance with nice stallion. Makes me wonder, though, like, was that stallion gelded? No, I don't want to know, it hurts just thinking about it. However, as a show, the whatever version of Carmen that was tonight was intense and wonderful. Strange bit of staging, it was, "Carmen, with drums and bugles (and horse) done in flamenco."
11/20
Ain't nothing like a good little bit of Calf Liver with some decent bacon strips on it to really satisfy a hunger. Who said the Brits ain't mastered cooking? Granted it was a predominately French staff at the restaurant, but even the maitre'd said the chef was "Anglaise." A bit of the Bard this evening, and then maybe some more tomorrow.
Got to see one of those most utterly cool versions of Antony and Cleopatra on stage at the National. Just way cool, no two ways about it. One the more remarkable aspects, besides Helen Mirren as a wonderfully evocative Cleopatra, was the way most of the cast had so much more television and film experience as opposed to straight acting experience. The one difference was the guy playing Octavius Caesar, Samuel West. I've seen the lad before as a very serviceable Hal in Henry IV, parts Uno and Two-o. Seems he's used to the royal role because he does that king thing so well.
11/21
Saw an utterly cool version of Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida last night. It the third time I've seen an RSC version of that play, and it's always been at the Barbican. Only this time, it was in a theatre there called the Pit. No wonder it was called the Pit, it was two levels below the ground, and the seats were the pits. However, the play was stunning, running more than three hours in length. Perhaps it's the best Troilus I've seen so far.
11/22
We all had a nice "brunch" at a quaint little place over looking Hyde Park,
one of the hotels, I think. Hyde Park Regent Square Royal Palace or something.
And sitting there, gazing out the window, watching the roller blades and horses
mingle on the park's pathways... it doesn't take much to stretch your mind into
a position where one can see the Victorian folks strolling about. Yes, it's
an elegant lifestyle, and it's certainly one that I could be comfortable with.
In fact, if I could just squeeze a few more dollars out of this astrology stuff,
I might be able to afford this a little more often, like I am obviously supposed.
Yeah, right. On both accounts.
11/23
We all rolled out of bed early Monday morning and hopped in cab to Waterloo Station to catch a train bound for a little place called Dorset, or Dorchester or Bridspot or something like that. I never quite caught the name. An old family friend had moved to a lovely place on the South English coast, and we spent a few days there. I got to see "half court croquet" among other genteel sports. And a some terribly lovely countryside, too.
11/24
I have a theory about English weather as our host was going on and on about how nice it had been last week, and how nice it was going to be next week, and couldn't we just stay a little longer?
Sounds like an old country song, "Stay all night, stay a littler longer, dance all night, dance a little longer, take off your coat, throw it in a corner, don't see why you don't stay a little longer...."
The theory is simple, it's an old fishing guide trick, "should've been here yesterday....(they were really biting then)." And the way I see it, the South Coast, Wales, places like that where I've been, all I've ever seen is landed shrouded in fog and mystery. To be sure, there are picture postcards, lovely snapshots of clear yellow sun and blue skies, but I've never seen it. To me, it's always a landscape poking up through the mists of time.
So the weather theory is this, that the good lord in her infinite wisdom, checks to make sure that there are no tourists around and then lets the sun shine. Travelers from afar show up, and boom, it's cloudy again. This keeps the tourist trade brisk, but it also keeps these parts of the world relatively isolated.
11/25
The biggest problem with corresponding while overseas is folks seem to forget
the time changes. And the difference between the U.S. Left Coast and London
is almost like a whole day. So while I'm here, I'm way ahead. Of course, in
Australia, it's already tomorrow. And it's only fitting that about the time
I get on a good schedule her, over the jet lag and all, it's time to pack up
again and bounce across the ocean for the big birthday bash on that Left Coast.
One last cigar for the evening, walking back in the rain from the theater, one last glimpse of London night life, and it's time to pack it in for the states.
11/26
The longest of days, and the rigors of international travel.
It has finally happened -- I've become one of THEM, you know the type.... I was on a layover today, and there I was looking through the Beanie Babies for friends. Everyone wanted a Britain's Bear or something, and by the time I finished getting prices, never actually seeing one, just getting quotes from Beanie Free Market individuals, I pretty much shied away from trying to find any British Beanies. Quotes ran as high as a hundred pounds, and with an exchange rate of one pound sterling = 1.72 (dollars, American), I decided I would rather have myself a good smoke while overseas, a decent after theater cigar was more to my liking.... but the fever hit again, in the Dallas airport, I took one quick spin through the Beanie place. Look, if you ain't got it, don't even think about asking me for it. The most common sign I saw in the British Beanie shoppes was "No Britianicus Beanie."
Following setting sun on a global path, put me in the air over West Texas for the afternoon, over my favorite path ... "I've been from Tucson to Tucamcari, Tehachpei to Tonepah, driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed...." (it's an old Country song, I think it was Kris Kristosferson).... well, heck the pilot said we were going to fly to Tucamcari and take a left...