We started off the morning with eggs from some Columbian Blacktail Hens, prepared by chef Gordon. I was planning to make them but got busy "blogging."

Today was cold and rainy and not a good day for being outdoors. (It actually wasn't so cold I found out later, but the flat seemed cold so I assumed the outside was too.) So I did things at home and ventured out late afternoon with Gord to do food shopping for tomorrow's student dinner. The rain stopped on the way home and the sky turned blue and it was quite nice. I've noticed that it is often milder in the evening than during the day. (Which reminds me that I was going to go for a walk after dinner and forgot.)

I decided I needed to go over that 27-page inventory list to make sure we have everything our landlords say we have. I didn't finish it but did find some minor inconsistencies already. I could only find four corkscrews instead of five (!), and only three napkin rings instead of four. I can't believe how detailed it is. I mean, could we really run off with the radiators? But I understand their point, well not about the radiators or the doorknobs or baseboards, but about leaving your home in the hands of strangers.

I then spent a goodly amount of time pouring through this week's Time Out magazine to figure out my game plan for the week. There are so many choices!

And I'm still reading Middlemarch--it's a long one and I need to have long spans of time to devote to it. I am enjoying it though, very much.

I just remembered something about yesterday. After I was finished at the Courtauld Gallery, I was standing in the courtyard and noticed the cutest little mouse nearby. I never thought I would say that about a mouse, but it really was. I should have taken a photo to prove it. I watched it for awhile before starting my walking tour. Okay, that was exciting. I can just hear my daughters telling me "Good story, mom." Definitely time to say good night.

Starbucks. They're everywhere. One across the street and two around the corner. You could literally walk from one to the next and never run out of coffee. It seems wrong, somehow, to go to one here when there are so many other choices. Although not as abundant, I feel the same about Pizza Hut and Burger King and, sorry CWB, McDonald's. (Haven't seen a Dunkin' Donuts though!) I believe they should be frequented by locals, just as I guess I would want to frequent the Pret a Mangers or the Wagamamas or even the Costa Coffees and Cafe Neros if they were in the States. Hmm, now there's an idea for a business. . .Wagamama.

Today I went to the Courtauld Gallery and what a treat. They have a fantastic collection that includes Gothic and Early Renaissance, Italian Renaissance, Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, Fauvism, Modernism, and more. They are located in the elegant eighteenth century Somerset House. I learned that Kandinsky's works from the first decade of the twentieth century were so different from his later style, and that George Braque actually used bright colors in his early, pre-Cubism days. They had a couple of Raoul Dufys that I liked too. But my most favorite pieces were two sculptures by Frank Dobson.

It is interesting to me that one museum's collection can give you an idea of an artist that doesn't hold up at other museums, in that if that museum only represents one stage in an artist's career you may form an inaccurate opinion of their overall work. Okay, here's where my writing falls apart and I can't express what I'm trying to say. But let me try again. If I were to base my opinion of certain artists on this one museum's collection, I would leave thinking I much prefer Manet to Monet, that I do like Renoir after all, that George Braque isn't so bad, and that Frank Dobson is da bomb. A visit to another museum may confirm these opinions or quite the opposite.

Okay, I know this is very elementary stuff, probably quite obvious to everyone else, but I have never claimed to know much about art. I do know when I like something. The same with theatre. So if you're looking for a brilliant analysis of a play or an exhibition, don't read my blog! If you're looking to find out what strange things lurk in the mind of . . . oh never mind.

After the museum I did most of the city walk in the Rick Steves' book, including the Royal Courts of Justice, Twinings Tea (the narrowest store in London), the Temple Bar Monument, Prince Henry's Room (one of the few buildings to survive the great fire of 1666), Temple Church (of The da Vinci Code fame), the narrow, maze-like lanes of The Inns of Court (where lawyers work and law students sleep--we really do create a lot of work for our lawyers, apparently, because there are certainly a lot of them), Fleet Street, Dr. Johnson's House (of dictionary fame), Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese Tavern, and a bunch of other churches, including St. Bride's.

The Temple Bar Monument is interesting, as it marks the border between the City of Westminster and the City of London. When the Queen, who presides over Westminster, comes to the City of London, there is a ritual that happens whereby the Mayor of London ("Lord Mayor" I should say) gives his "permission" for her royal highness to pass through.

St. Bride's church has Christopher Wren's tallest steeple. Apparently a baker looked out his window, saw the steeple, and fashioned the first tiered wedding cake after it. I went down into the crypt where they have evidence of the six previous churches that were on the site, discovered after the great fire.

We had the other London-based Skidmore faculty member and his wife over for cocktails before the four of us headed out to dinner at Geales, rated one of the best (and most expensive) places to get fish and chips. They were very good, but Gord claims they are just as good (and half the cost) at our beloved Elephant and Castle. We actually went to that pub after dinner where I tried a Pimms, even though summer's over. (The bartenders told me you could have it anytime, it didn't matter.) It was quite good and a nice end to a pleasant evening.

I'll try not to make this entry too long, but I have two days to cover. Saturday morning we went over to the Royal Mews at Buckingham Palace (we ran out of time last month when we did the Palace so decided to use our re-entry tickets today). The Mews are the working stables housing the royal carriages and horses. It employs over 200 people, most if not all of them living on site. We had a guided tour and saw a small sampling of the carriages. It was interesting, but unless you're a horse person it shouldn't be high on your list of things to see in London. We saw the carriage that Princess Diana rode in on her way to her wedding, but the most interesting was the 245-year-old Gold State Coach that weighs four tons and uses eight horses. Gold is the operative word here. This coach is used for coronations primarily and was last used during the Queen's golden jubilee celebrations in 2002.

We then went over to Oxford Street to buy Gord a sweater. He ended up buying two at Primark, a store that we had heard had good prices. Well that is an understatement. His two sweaters combined cost us 14 pounds. But what a zoo! There were so many people in there, ripping things off hangers, pushing and shoving. I wanted to take a photo but it is not allowed. I asked an employee if it was always like this and he said yes, except that last weekend was apparently much worse. The checkout line was incredibly long but moved fairly quickly.

From there we walked part way down Edgeware Road where I bought some tea and spearmint to make Moroccan mint tea at home, my new favorite tea.

Now for our evening, I have to give you some background. A friend of mine in Utica, NY has a daughter who teaches at a university in South London. We have been trying to get together for the past month, but our schedules always conflicted. (Coincidentally we had been at the same performance of The Emperor Jones a few weeks ago but didn't know it until later.) Anyway, I was hoping to get together with them this weekend but it was a last minute thing and they had tentative plans to dine with some friends already. Well their very generous friends invited us to their home too and we had a wonderful time, so wonderful in fact that the time flew by. The food was delicious and abundant, the wine was flowing followed by the port, the conversation was lively, and suddenly it was 12:30 and we had been there 5-1/2 hours! Well they live near the end of the Northern line and the trains were done for the night, so we had to take a cab home. Thank you R and A for being such warm and gracious hosts. And J, J, and Z, I'm so glad we finally met. And thanks G for initiating it all.

Today I was feeling the effects of last night's partying, even more so than some of those memorable parties on Caroline Street at the home of J and P. And more so than that "margaroota" night and the dinner and a movie night up in Glens Falls. But I fear I may be getting a reputation now (which is totally unfounded, I might add) so I will say no more.

Gord and I went over to the Victoria and Albert Museum to meet J and M who were down from Manchester for the weekend. We had a nice lunch in the cafe. J is a museum professional who had spent two months at three museums in the U.S. back in 2004, and one of them was The Hyde. It was good to reconnect and catch up, and I look forward to seeing them again some time soon. Gord and I spent a little bit of time looking around the museum before walking home. It was a quiet evening.

I discovered another really neat thing. Every Friday, students from the Royal College of Music perform a lunchtime concert at St. Mary Abbots Church, a 2-minute walk away. This week there was a pianist playing Chopin, a trio playing Beethoven, and a quintet playing Haydn and Danzi. I will have to plan my Fridays around that. It was a lovely setting for the music, even with the schoolchildren having recess at the adjacent St. Mary Abbots School. They also have lunchtime concerts on other weekdays at the College itself, which is probably a 15-minute walk. It's right by the Natural History and Science museums and the Victoria and Albert (which we will be visiting on Sunday).

I took it easy today. Other than the concert, the post office and the grocery store, I stayed home. I have to pick up the pace a little. I'm falling behind.

Things in the flat are starting to fall apart, through no apparent fault of ours. There are two Italian stovetop espresso coffee makers. I have been using the small one that makes one cup. When Cathy was here I used the larger one (after cleaning it out because of something gross growing inside it!). But I used it only the one time because the handle was so loose that it seemed like it could break off. There was no visible screw to tighten it. Before that, I used the microwave soon after we got here and then when Gord tried to use it a day or two later, you could hear the fan but it didn't warm the food no matter what level we set it at. Now tonight, I was putting something away in the fridge and I noticed that one of the glass shelves is cracked all the way through from front to back. We have done nothing that would cause that to happen, unless it was already cracked and it got worse by putting something on top of it. I'm worried because we gave the landlords a large deposit and I'd like to get it all back. (I could buy ten more rings with that money!) I'm out of practice with this renting thing. On close inspection, lots of things could break at any moment--some of the window treatments are old and worn, and each morning when I open the bedroom curtains, that are lined and quite heavy, I feel like the drawstring (or whatever it's called) could snap right off, even though I try to be very careful. We were given a 27-page inventory of every single item in here down to the light bulbs(!), but I haven't taken the time to check to make sure we started out with everything on the list. The landlords seem very nice, however, so I hope they won't blame us for every little thing. The list indicates that the microwave was bought in 1998, so it's had a good life I'd say. He wants us to see if we can get it repaired, but I doubt it will be worth it--you could buy one for a lot less money probably. Anyway, we're taking greater care with their things than we do with our own, so why this is happening I can't say. But maybe it's the ghost.....

I forgot to tell you about the jellied eels. (Thanks for reminding me, Belle.) Gord was not particularly interested in trying them but I served them with lunch on Tuesday--it was a composed salad of sorts, one part of the plate had a salad of greens and fresh mango, another had sliced tomatoes, another feta cheese, and the fourth was a small mound of the eels. Cathy and I didn't think they were that bad, certainly not as bad as I was expecting. The jellied part was like an aspic. The eels did not have a strong taste, but they did have a lot of bones and we didn't have the technique down on how to eat them gracefully. Gord tasted them but did not like them at all. I claim it was because he had already made up his mind that he wouldn't! He might claim that I didn't mind them just to prove him wrong! I was surprised because there are very few things he won't eat, and he is usually willing to try anything. I think it was the jellied part--he's not big on aspic. Sorry, no photo.

Today I was planning to wander off to do a couple of things, but I think I had my first migraine. If it wasn't, I'd hate to know what one is like, because this was horrible. It made me sick to my stomach. Anyway, I managed to sleep a little and by 6:30 I was up and feeling ready enough for play night. (Okay, all you migraine sufferers are probably thinking, "If she was up after just half a day, that was no migraine." Well I hope you're right, because then maybe it won't happen again.)

But I'm so glad I rallied around, because the play was wonderful. It was A Disappearing Number, conceived and directed by Simon McBurney of Complicite, which is a world-renowned theatre company dedicated to developing new and innovative work. I would never have guessed you could do a play about mathematics, specifically the concept of infinity, and make it so interesting, and even humorous in parts. (Lynne, you would have loved it.) It was partly the true story of an Indian prodigy (Srinivasa Ramanujan) who ended up working in Cambridge with an English mathematician (G. H. Hardy) in the first part of the 20th century. It was brilliant how they went back and forth, weaving a couple of different stories, in different time periods and different countries. An added bonus was the use of Indian music and dance (bharata natyam). The set design by Michael Levine was incredible--I really just don't get how they figure it all out. Oh well, I probably never will.

I escorted Cathy to Victoria Station where she caught a train to Gatwick airport. We had a fun nine days. From there I went to a different branch of the library, on Old Brompton Road, with the intention of getting a specific book but it was not on the shelf where it was supposed to be. They will try to find it for me. In the meantime, I picked up another.

Quiet day, blogging, emailing, etc. and cooking for three of the students.

Photos: of our local flower vendor's stall. Helen, you would love the bouquets. They're "fabulous."

Reading: Middlemarch by George Eliot

Hey Maris, I finally got myself (and Cathy) down to Harrod's. It was almost like a museum anyway. What a place. I had forgotten. The food halls are still amazing. We stopped at the memorial to Dodi and Diana, with their photos and with the very large engagement ring that he was supposedly going to give her, as well as the unwashed wine glass that one of them had used the night they died. Creepy. We passed through the children's floor, half of which is devoted to toys, and saw the child's Hummer with its price cut in half, down to only 14,000 pounds. It takes real "petrol" and can go 30 miles per hour. Now why anyone would think it was a good idea to buy one for a child is beyond me, but apparently they sold one last week which was shipped by private jet to its new home in Israel. (We had a nice chat with a young employee who shared this with us.) We walked through their Room of Luxury 1 and Room of Luxury 2, and frankly it looked no different than the rest of the store. We passed through linens, fine china, the furniture floor, and, unfortunately for my nose, the perfumery twice. But we missed the whole top floor which is devoted to sports clothing and equipment, including the usual tennis and golf but also riding and saddlery. I saw a beautiful sweater for Gord (he shrunk the only one he brought with him by helping me out with the laundry one day!) but it was quite a bit more than the ring I bought yesterday (Oops! Did I say ring? Oh those darn silver vaults.) We had hot chocolate and split a chocolate dome dessert in the Chocolate Bar. I was going to take a picture but Cathy ate it before I could get my camera out (just kidding; I admit that I simply forgot until it was too late). So I took a photo of our empty plate and a photo of one on display. On the way out we saw the life size wax figure of Mohamed al Fayed, Harrod's owner and Dodi's father, as well as the statue of Dodi and Princess Diana.

From there we were on a mission to buy a particular item for Cathy's sister. We started on Oxford Street and ended up by the British Museum. Then we met Gord in the pouring rain outside Sir John Soane's Museum. They are open from 6-9 PM on the first Tuesday of every month, when it is lit by candlelight, as it would have been in his day. I thought this was a well-kept secret, but evidently not for there were about 100-125 people waiting with us. We were able to get in eventually, but I was disappointed for Cathy because it was difficult to see everything, especially the Hogarth paintings, in the dim light. Gord can go back and see it by day.

Cathy and I were pretty tired from our busy day yesterday, especially the climbing of the stairs. Actually Cathy got an early start today. She walked over to Kensington Palace first thing in the morning to tour it before we left for Harrod's, and she also walked in Kensington Gardens prior to that. I slept in and took it easy. So why I was so tired, I don't know.