christen backside


After one of the worst weeks I have ever had at this job, I was ready to burn off some steam through song. I really wanted to sing some Violent Femmes (“Kiss Off”…But, barring that, “Add It Up” would have done). After a brief pre-funk at Faye’s, Dom, Sherrard, Faye and I headed off to the Mandarin Gate to meet Chris and Ben. We got there pretty early to assure ourselves a table. That was, unfortunately, our downfall because having that much time to kill before singing time allowed Faye and I ample opportunity to try (literally) every fru-fru drink on the menu. Now, when I say fru-fru, I mean in taste only. Because while these drinks had fruit juice a-plenty, they also contained a large amount of hard alcohol (some of which was 151 Rum). After several hours of consuming drinks such as “The Zombie” and “The Suffering Bastard”, we were ready to sing. My heart sank when I saw that there were no Violent Femmes in the book. There was also no Oasis. I had to regroup and, for a while, every brilliant song idea I came up with was met with rejection. Their selection was really pissing me off. Furthermore, their “by artist” list had different selections than their “by song” list and I can’t, for the life of me, choose songs by title. My eyes always glaze over after the first page of songs starting with “a” or “the”. So anyway, I found some Billy Joel and picked “You May Be Right” (but I’m getting a little sick of needing to use BJ as a backup during desperate times). After a while, I finally found a song that I felt would sufficiently alleviate some work stress. I was going to sing “One” by Three Dog Night. I had been wanting to do this song for a while. (In fact, I had practiced a couple of times). I was ready to wail on it and give it the angst it so required. But by then the place was packed to the gills with American Idols. It was hours before I was called up again. And when, at 1 in the morning, I was finally called back, the DJ took liberties and skipped to a song I had put in JUST IN CASE I had a chance at 3 songs. I wasn’t prepared to sing it at all because I thought I would have been lucky to be called again. He said “sorry, I switched things up on you”. And when I saw “Man-eater” by Hall and Oates show up on the screen I knew I was in for a crappy performance. I just wasn’t ready for that one. I know it pretty well, but my heart wasn’t in it. Damned karaoke DJ’s and their liberties.
But despite DJ’s with god-complexes and pretty bad service (I don’t think we ever would have gotten served if the waitress hadn’t fancied Chris) and despite WAAAY too much fru-fru rumminess, a good time was had by all. Once again, Andrew blew us away with his Foreigner. This time it was “I want to know what love is”. I am convinced that Andrew should start a Foreigner tribute band. The man has a gift.

Faye and I were supposed to do some hardcore baking in preparation for Adam and Eva’s wedding next Saturday (for which we are meant to bake cake for 200 people). I was trying cake recipes and Faye was going to try some frostings. Well, somehow I managed to avoid the wrath of the hangover fairy. But Faye was not so lucky. We were in contact all day, but actually baking did not start until around 4:00 when I decided I’d better not wait for Faye to start feeling better. I baked a chocolate and then Faye and I got some supplies from the store. Faye was still feeling atrocious and even had to rest her body on the cart a few times. Yikes. Once at Faye, I made my banana cake while we watched 21 Jump Street and ate Thai food. The banana cake turned out pretty good. I then started in on my very complex “Death by Chocolate” cake. Turns out it was too complex, however. Because even though I thought I followed the directions to the letter, and set the oven timer for 10 minutes less than the recipe called for, it was still a rock-hard brick of charcoal by the time it came out. My cake from earlier had inexplicably failed too. So I’ve decided to nix the complex chocolate recipes and just go with my standard chocolate from my Joy of Cooking. That one has never failed me. Around 9:00, Kayobi, Matt, Andrew, Dom and Borgia showed up for tasting and “Ginger Snaps Back”. Faye managed to stop being nauseous long enough to make a quick chocolate whip to put on the banana. People liked that one so at least my baking endeavors weren’t a TOTAL failure. I don’t know what went wrong. I wasn’t even hung-over!
“Ginger Snaps Back” (the pre-quel) wasn’t nearly as good as “Ginger Snaps”. Those two angsty girls, cute as the are, just aren’t convincing at 19th century Canadian ladies. Let’s hope “Ginger Snaps II”, which places them back in a modern setting, isn’t as much of a disappointment.

Sleeping in is lovely. Truly a luxury. Thank you, Marilyn, for not crying until 9:30. At 10:00 my mom called and I surfed the internet while she talked at me about things. I spent the rest of the morning sitting on my ass watching special features and trying to get motivated for yoga. It has been almost a month since I last went so I knew it was going to be hard. But I HAD to go. (Seeing as how it had been almost a month since I last went). And hard it was. For about the first 15 minutes, I felt like I was going to throw up. But once you’re in there, you’re in there for the duration. So I tried to just breathe and get through it. By the end I as, as always, glad I came.
I relaxed some more when I got home and tried to prepare myself for coming back to work. Not easy considering how my attitude underwent a huge shift last week. More on that later…

It's official

You Are 30% Normal

(Occasionally Normal)

You sure do march to your own beat…

But you're so weird, people wonder if it's a beat at all

You think on a totally different wavelength

And it's often a chore to get people to understand you

How Normal Are You?

respirator nosebag boyd bird dioxide rastus gonzalez

Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day. Being moderately Irish, as most Americans are, Faye and I had our annual St. Paddy's Day feast and screening of Darby O'Gill and the little people last night. Faye made veggie “meat”balls smothered in a delicious Guinness cream sauce. I made vegetarian Bubble and Squeak (the leftovers of which I'm enjoying right at this moment). Black and Tans (or half and halfs, if you want to be politically correct about things), were had by many, and laughter by all. Gotta love any holiday that celebrates drinking. (Well, I suppose technically, it celebrates a snake-free Ireland, but, like most holidays, history and tradition have obliterated the original intent of the holiday almost entirely. Yahoo!)

I spoke to my boss about the internet situation today. He denied any knowledge of it at first. Later, he sent me an email coming clean about having ordered the Big Brotherization of my computer. We have been engaged in email discourse ever since. I am arguing that I don't let the internet get in the way of my work (which really is true, for the most part. I always get my work done). He is arguing that people should never have any down time at work. I am arguing that I had thought we had a good system of open communication here that should have allowed him to feel comfortable enough to discuss such matters with me, rather that blocking things and denying it. I am also arguing that I shouldn't be singled out (to which he replied that he will make sure no one has access to email). We are still working things out. The bottom line is that I definitely feel a rift here. I always thought I had a pretty good relationship with my boss, but I guess I was wrong. It's still all about making money for him. He also seems to have a hard time realising that even though this company is HIS life, it isn't necessarily anyone else's (and it certainly isn't mind…I'm not getting paid enough for it to be). I know it's probably too much to ask that I have access to personal email here. I'm sure most companies, if they scrutinized the situation carefully enough, wouldn't allow it for their employees. But it still feels like unnecessary regulation. Afterall, how am I supposed to feel loyal to a company that doesn't trust that I am getting my work done? In a company this small, it really hurts business to have those kinds of rifts between employer and employee (and co-workers, for that matter). Furthermore, employees who aren't necessarily INTO the job they perform, NEED little outlets like email and LJ to keep from getting disgruntled enough to become violent. FURTHERfurthermore, if I wasn't able to work on my movie career whilst working my day job, I would be stuck here forever. And then someone really would have to die.
Blah! BLAH, I say!

In unrelated news, I REALLY wish I'd written this.

Long London Update Part 3

We made our way to the Tower of London. I hadn't been there since I was 16. I had gone with my father and I remembered it being really cool. A highlight for me had been the torture chamber which not only showed how the devices were used with dummies, but also had a display case full of “inadvertent” torture devices such as chastity belts. That exhibit really stuck with me. For some reason, it is no longer there. In fact, the whole place is pretty much a huge rip off. The coolest part is the architecture outside and the fact that a giant castle sits in the middle of a big modern city. The inside is mostly just tourists and a few people in silly costumes with the odd cool display of weaponry. Not worth 14 pounds each, I'll tell you what. The giant fucking ravens were still there though. Those things are amazing.
We took it easy Friday night too. I wasn't feeling very well. So we watched Comic Relief on telly. Most of it was pretty lame but there were odd bits that were priceless genius. I guess it's probably the same as Comic Relief in the U.S. Do they even still do that? Are Whoopie, Billy and Robin still friends?
Anyway, it kind of just made me want to watch the Comic Relief episode of The Office.
TANGENT Has anyone seen the promo for the American version of The Office? Apparently they ARE still going through with it. It premieres pretty soon on network TV. It was only a 30 second promo but the whole time I felt like my brain was being scanned. Fucking horrible

Woke up late because I couldn't sleep a wink the night before. Too many springs jabbing into my back. Probably having been saturated with images of small orphaned children with AIDS didn't help matters. We had a quick breakfast, checked email and then met our UK consulate Tom at Tower Bridge station to make the geeky obligatory trek out to The Winchester. It's actually not called the Winchester. It's called The Duke of Albany and it's in Southeast London. But for one shining moment, it was The W and we had to see it. We were a little unsure about whether or not we should go in but we decided to suck it up and do it. Once inside, we discovered it to be rather pleasant. A jolly woman behind the counter took our order and we had a pint next to the fireplace, which was adorned with pictures from the day(s) of shooting. They only shot the exteriors of the pub. It was still a very cool experience and I'm glad we went.
We then went hunting for some food. We ended up an a Lebanese place. I had never had Lebanese but it's apparently your standard Middle Eastern Falafal situation. It's also very very delicious.
Food in our bellies, we hit a few trendy pubs before it was clubbing time. I had been wanting to hit an indie club, as there is positively NO good indie nights in Seattle. Well, there are apparently few good indie nights left in London either. But it was still better than your average night at Polyesther's. We got a little dancing and drinking in and mini-cabbed it back home.

This being our last day of vacation, we felt we should take it easy. We had a nice, long, lingering breakfast and then saw a screening of “The Life Aquatic”. I liked it, but I can see what the critics mean when they say that it's lacking the soul of Anderson's first three films.
We spent the evening packing and drifted off to restless sleep with “The Annabel Chong Story” playing on TV.

We knew we were in for a long day. It wasn't nearly as stressful as getting there though. Watched some more Alan Partridge. I also watched “Closer” (which I liked. Even though Natalie Portman still annoys me. I found out later that the guy who wrote the film used to write for all Steve Coogan's projects so I don't feel so bad about enjoying the film). I also watched “Mean Creek” which was pretty good. Customs was pretty easy to get through. It's actually harder to drive back from Canada than it is to come back from the UK. Weird. I probably could have smuggled a lot more Caffrey's for Faye. Oh well. Now I know for next time.
We arrived home around 10:00 to a nice clean house (thank you, Faye), a lovely little “Welcome Home” sign (Faye again) and a very amorous Marilyn who missed her daddy like you wouldn't believe. But I think her relief that he actually came home again has turned into anger and she's gone from being relatively quiet and friendly, back to her usual loud and snubby self. She won't be so big when I adopt my own kitty next month. But that's a different story…

And that's Jessica and Dom's Jolly Good Adventure…

Happy St. Paddy's Day! Slainte!

It's quiz day!

Because I'm avoiding work, here's another quiz. This one's pretty interesting. Find out if you're more Yankee or Dixie. I'm 55% Dixie. I think it's because I grew up in the south but had northern parents. And there were some pronunciations in the south that I just HAD to refuse to assimilate to.

Which O.C. Character Am I?

This is one of those quizzes where all the results are slightly insulting, isn’t it?

You scored as Anna. No one understands you. Your life revolves around being different and probably excessive romantic allusions. Stop being so self absorbed and put greater emphasis on examining the sensibility of your behavior to avoid simply becoming an abstract narcissist.


What OC character are you?
created with

House of Viicodin Howard

Quote from Britney Speares on Michael Jackson

“If he did those things, I feel sorry for him. I feel like he probably feels alone, and he needs some help. He needs someone to be like, 'OK, let's buck you up, let's give you a moustache, let's rough you up, let's go to a bar, let's get drunk and be a man.' And if he didn't do those things, I feel sorry for him. Either way, he needs to get in a fight.”

If she ever writes a book, I will be the FIRST one to buy it. The funniest part is that there are probably a lot of people in south who agree with her assessment.

Long London Update Part 2

We made our way to the British Museum. The last time I was there, I saw Jarvis Cocker hanging out with his mother and sister, so that, for me, was the coolest thing in the museum. This time, there was no Jarvis so I was left to marvel at history, of which there is a lot. The place is IMMENSE. You start off all excited about looking at and reading everything. A few hours later, you can't believe you're only half through and you start to skim. The Egyptian stuff was really neat. Lots of preserved bodies. Dom wanted to know why no one ever made a zombie movie about mummies (besides The Mummy), and I explained that they remove the brain in mummification, thereby eliminating any future possibilities of creating a proper zombie.
I also realized that probably part of the reason the U.S. is so much more conservative than Europe is because we don't have all the history of people making sculptures and paintings rife with bare genitalia, breasts and erect penises. So when the powers that be in the U.S. see art like that now, they think it's lewd and it's immediately banned. Ah, the folly of youth.

After the museum, we had planned on heading back to the neighborhood that Faye and I lived in. We made a pit stop at an internet cafe to check our email. I sat down at a console and realized much too late that I had sat in a puddle of some sort of milky beverage which soaked me through. Plan b was made and we returned to the roach motel so I could change. I kept kicking myself for not having looked before I sat and Dom told me not to let it ruin my day. We decided to do laundry and stay near the hotel instead and go to my old hood later, so, for dinner, we went to an Indian place up the road from our hotel. I ordered a glass of port and was just getting over feeling silly about the milk when the waiter started shuffling things around on our table and knocked the ENTIRE glass of sherry into my lap. Taking this as a sign to give up for the day, I cleaned myself up a little, we ate our meal, and retired for the night.

We went to the Camden lock to do some second-hand clothing shopping. Dom found a nice coat to wear so that he could retire his North Face jacket for the duration of the trip. (No one wears North Face in London unless they are a tourist or just coming back from a ski holiday). I found a cheap pair of boots but I’m already realizing why they were given away. The zippers keep falling down.
I noticed that loads of places were boasting that they sold magic mushrooms. I didn’t remember this being the case when I lived there. But apparently now it’s is pretty much legal to buy and sell shrooms. Unfortunately, I have memories of an evil shrubbery elephant to keep me from ever trying shrooms again.
In the afternoon, we headed out to Hoxton which is where Faye and I lived. It’s a lot more lively than it used to be. The small juice bar is gone and there is now a Starbucks. The place is also brimming with trendy little cafés. It’s cute, but it’s not the quiet little borough that I remember. It also made me very sad being there, so we weren’t there long. We headed back to central London to catch a free in-store concert at the Virgin Megastore by Idlewild (which was pretty good. Must buy new album). We then ate some pretty good sushi and stopped at the Trocadero to spend loads of money at their version of Gameworks. I can’t believe that most games cost 1 pound to play. I can’t bring myself to convert the amount of money we spent there into dollars.

We hopped in the train to Chislehurst to visit the caves. This was something I knew nothing about. A friend had told me about them and we decided to check it out. They ended up being one of the highlights of the trip. You can read a little about them here. Besides all the war history, it also has a rich entertainment history. Apparently, loads of bands like Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and Hendrix played there in the seventies. Our guide had actually seen the Zeppelin gig. Also, a lot of films and TV shows had been shot in there including an episode of Dr. Who. Our guide also mentioned that he’s a rat owner! He has two rats called Steak and Kidney. Adorable.
We ate lunch in what I assume is the only pub in Chislehurst. I don’t care what anyone says. I love English food. You can’t beat a plate of eggs, beans and toast with a pint at 2:00 in the afternoon.
After the caves, we wandered around the Tower Hill area so that Dom could see the Thames. We happened into a strange little condo community that was no doubt very expensive to live it. It was also very maze-like and it took us a while to find our way out. Help! We’re trapped in a middle-class urban jungle!

As fun as the caves were, they were also full of mildew, pushing my immune system over the edge. I had now developed at full-blown cold. Fully medicated, we wandered around Portobello Road. Fortunately, this being a weekday, no one was there. Unfortunately, this being a weekday, nothing was open.
It is here that I must say that as horrible and corporate as McDonalds is, they are the ONLY eating establishment that consistently has public restrooms open for use without the need to purchase anything. I have to love them for that.
That evening, we met our one UK friend, Tom, at a pub for a drink before the Electric Six gig.
A few feet away, there were two English girls having a drink with their two attractive Brazilian boyfriends. One of them got up to go to the bathroom. When she returned, she found that her bag was missing. Since I am nosy, I was eavesdropping like a bastard. Apparently, she had asked her boyfriend to watch her bag while she was gone. He had not done so, and someone had nicked it in her absence. She had just taken 500 pounds out of the bank. It also contained her keys and her phone. She was crying. He was not caring at all. Meanwhile, her friend was far too busy getting off with her Latin lover to pay any attention to why her friend might be crying. A female bartender came over to find out the trouble. The girl explained her situation and the lady bartender lent her a phone to call her mom. The poor girl retreated to the bathroom to call and cry to her mother while her boyfriend continued to cavort with his friend and watch TV. The girl got a hold of her mom, who was coming to pick her up. Crisis solved, I thought for sure she would kick her uncaring boyfriend to the proverbial curb. But once she knew her mom was on the way, she returned to canoodling position. Now that she was no longer crying, her boyfriend became interested in her business once again. I imagine him whispering into her ear, “Baby, go clean yourself up. I can’t be seen with a girl with puffy eyes”.
Having had my curiosity satiated, we headed to the venue for the show. We missed the first band. The second band was called “El Presidente”. They were kind of a cross between Guns n' Roses and Journey and I thought they were fantastic. The lead singer was wearing white jeans. There was a cute girl keyboard player and an even cuter girl drummer. Rock.
The Electric Six were also amazing. It is impossible to listen to them and not dance like a maniac on the floor. Must get new album.

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion…

work rant

I've only been back for a day and already work is getting to me.
Apparently the interns, not having yet learned the art of stealth internet surfing, totally got busted for checking their email too much. And since they were apparently using MY computer in my absence (even though I specifically asked my co-workers not to let them), the administration has now blocked several major websites on my computer including yahoo, hotmail and gmail. This fucks me off royally for many reasons.
1) This is the company's computer technically but it's MINE while I am using it. And if they haven't seen an abuse of internet from me, why should I be punished for the intern's behavior?
2) Not being able to use gmail significantly hinders my ability to work on movie stuff until I can forward all relevant emails, spreadsheets and contact into to my jb account.
3) Gmail was my favorite email program because of the user-friendly interface. My jb interface is very irritating and takes forever to load, it seems.
4) The whole thing feels a bit big-brotherish to me anyway

I'm really angry with the interns for being so bloody-minded. What the hell is wrong with them? You ALWAYS keep a spreadsheet or something open so you can click on that whenever someone walks by the computer.

So I am hoping that I can remedy this situation 1 of 2 ways. I am getting a new computer in the next month or so, so hopefully when they set up the system, that stuff won't be blocked again. Failing that, I will have to think of a gingerly way of speaking to Boss Man about the situation. I know that everyone else in this office uses their personal email from time to time. I've seen it. I suppose I can say something like “I've noticed over the past couple of days that a whole bunch of sites are blocked on my computer and things moved around. What happened? Were people using my computer?” and see where that goes.

Very fucking frustrating. I guess, in my absence, I'd forgotten how horrifically depressing it is here.

More London recapping later…

Long London Update Part 1

I'm going to break this into parts to a) (hopefully) keep from boring people and b) keep from getting in trouble because I really do have a of day-job work to do. So here we go

We flew to Boston on Alaska Airlines which is fast becoming a horrific airline. All of their “improvements” less about customer service and more about finding ways to keep their employees from doing any work. They now have self-check in and self-baggage check. And neither of them save us any time as travelers. Also, they've apparently stopped “doing special meals” which means that when I asked for my pre-booked vegetarian breakfast, they gave me a ham and egg sandwich and told me to just take the ham off. I GUESS I can understand them not wanting to cater to “hippies” but what about kosher people? Or people who are lactose intolerant or have allergies? If we're paying hundreds of dollars to fly on their gay little airline, shouldn't we be able to request food within our dietary restrictions? How is eliminating that stuff a step forward? And where did the extra money go?
Apparently it went to these neat little individual screens that show several movies and TV shows that you can choose from. (Though they still cost $10 to rent). So instead of “Miss Congeniality Two” or whatever I was expecting, we watched The Incredibles and part of Alexander (which, despite being hilariously rife with homoeroticism and bad acting by Jared Leto, was still boring as hell. Luckily, we had a fast forward option).
We landed in Boston and were immediately frustrated by the layout of the airport which requires you to go outside to a driveway and get on a bus to get to the next terminal. This wouldn't have been so bad except that it wasn't clear which bus we needed, and once we did figure it out, that bus took half an hour to show up. If we had been familiar with the place, we could have actually walked. But instead we waited around, worried we would miss our flight.
But we didn't and we got on Virgin which is, like, the fairy tale of airlines. I hate flying and all the business that goes along with it but that Richard Branson is a genius. They “do special meals” they feed you LOADS of good food, all the drinks you can drink, they give you little baggies full of goodies like socks and a toothbrush and, best of all, they have this amazing entertainment system which actually shows GOOD movies and TV shows completely uncut. (I watched Spaced and Alan Partridge. I also fast forwarded through The Grudge and watched Bridget Jones 2. I blame lack of sleep for my second film selection. That and an attraction to Collin Firth). Also, their staff has a great sense of humor and they obviously enjoy their jobs. I wish I could fly Virgin all the time. I heart Virgin.

We arrived in London around 6:30 in the morning, local time, and got the train into the city. Much to our shock, it started SNOWING. It was Seattle-style snow in that it melted pretty quickly. But I certainly never saw snow when I lived there. It was very beautiful.
At our hotel, we were introduced to the Russian Mafia's girls, the nicest of whom looked like Lola from Run Lola Run. They informed us that they couldn't find our reservation. Luckily, I had printed out a receipt that showed I paid for it long ago so they pretty much HAD to give us SOMETHING. Well, they didn't HAVE to. But they did. Which is good cos we would have been out about $800 if they hadn't. Our first clue that something was fishy about this place should have been that while Lola was trying to find our reservation, she kept turning the volume down on a Russian soap that was blaring from the tv behind her. I assume she did this so that she could concentrate on the matter at hand. However, every time she turned the volume down, the other girl who was working would come over and turn it back up. This happened at least 5 times. Neither girl ever spoke to each other.
Dom and I went off to get some food and check email while they got our room ready. We came back a few hours later bleary-eyed and ready for a short nap. We discovered our room which I am now convinced was actually the janitor's closet that they “did up” for us since our originally booked room was taken. It was two single beds which Dom and I pushed together, Ozzie and Harriet-Style. It was also a 12-inch television set up a tiny shelf about 6 feet above the bed. The heater was broken and it was very cold. We laid our weary bones on the bed and were delighted to discover that since there was no bottom sheet, there was only a thin layer of fabric on the mattress between us and many (probably rusty) sharp springs. Still, we were so tired that at that point we didn't care. We nodded off. About an hour later, there was a knock on the door. We were informed that our shower was leaking into the basement and that they needed to caulk it. (they might have meant they needed to “cock” it…). They guy got to work in the bathroom making lots of noise and swearing with a thick Russian accent. He left about half an hour later and we slept for another 2 hours before getting up to go find some curry.
1 delicious Indian meal and several pints (for me) later, we were back at the hotel for our first restless night.

The next morning I woke up famished and went out to the common area in the hotel to partake of some of the “complimentary breakfast” that was supposed to be included in the price. I was expecting what I had seen at the hostels in London: A table with some bread, a toaster, some jam, tea and cornflakes on it. A DIY breakfast buffet. But instead I saw the quiet girl from the day before furiously toasting behind a counter and bringing it to people seated in the very packed room. I asked her “so how does breakfast work”? She said “breakfast served from 8-9:30”. I said “Yes, but how does it work? Do I order something from you?”. She angrily said “Yes, but you must sit down first.” I looked around. No one else spoke English and all the seats were full. So I just went back to the room and collected Dom. No free breakfast for us.

We went central London to do some second-hand DVD and CD shopping but came up fairly fruitless since, even second hand, everything is pretty expensive. I got a few gifts though. I also got a kick out of how many of the sex shops Soho that I had remembered going to with Faye.

I used a pay toilet on the street (like the one on Broadway). For 50p you can sit in there 20 minutes. Though I can’t imagine why anyone would want or need to be in there that long.

We went to a HUGE comic book shop called Forbidden Planet. It was very cool in there and I spent too much money. They have some really wicked action figures these days.

Went to some more pubs in the evening included a horror-themed pub which was pretty cool but could have been cooler. Also, their music left much to be desired. Maroon 5 does not belong in the world of horror. Period.

We slept in till 1:30. I guess we really needed the sleep. They replaced our original blankets with thinner ones and the heater had still not been fixed.
We went to the National Gallery, but got there about an hour and half before they closed. That’s not NEARLY enough time there. It struck me how many portraits of random people there were. Portraits or page boys and things who weren’t anyone famous, but still, their visage will be gawked at for years to come. I bet in their wildest dreams they wouldn’t have been able to imagine such a scenario. They were probably just thought they were helping out that “odd artistic chap”.
We had a mediocre meal in China Town and returned to our hotel for candy and Sunday night telly. Just like back home only with less comfort!

To be continued…