Monday, 1 March - link

euro pix

	I went to London to visit my brother in February 2004. This is a picture of my brother.
	I ate plenty of full English breakfasts.
	I met my brother's friends Mike and Vic for dinner. Mike is working on To Do Before I Die, a collection of lists and stories, activities and goals people have for their remaining lifetime. I've been giving him advice about the web, how to promote the idea and encourage more stories from folks.
	I went out dancing and I got real excited. I jumped up and down, punching the low ceiling. The next day, I saw that my knuckles were bloody.
	I tried a pipe full of tobacco for the first time. Fun affectation, overwhelming sensation. Hard to concentrate on.
	I lay on the couch reading Bel Canto for an Oakland book club, and Philip Pullman's Dark Materials series. I wrote about this picture before I posted it.
	I like Jyri. He lives in Lancaster, north of London. Oxford was a good middle point, we met for a day at the Saïd Business School.
	"There were lots of fire alarms here when the building first opened," a tour guide told us. Must be because the buttons you press to unlock the doors are placed immediately adjacent to the fire alarms. Donald Norman would be aghast. Fortunately, this particular alarm has been switched to "off."
	Oxford has lots of old buildings, and some new chain stores.
	We revelled in some of Oxford's old charms. Here is the courtyard of Christ Church, visited after hours by a few wandering miscreants since one had a key. Clack clack footsteps echo off of long stone corridors. It later grounded my reading of Philip Pullman. Listen to a sound sample: tolling bells, muffled scratches and unintelligable dialog (123k wav). Later we saw the fabulous portrait-lined heavy wood Christ Church dining hall, televised by Harry Potter. It was after hours, the door was soon closed in our staring faces. They didn't believe me when I told them we had come to help them clean up.
	We saw a monument ringed by fences. Some of those fences were covered in something called "anti-climb paint." What's that?
	Guardian heads give me the long eye.
	I encouraged Jyri to taste Marmite at breakfast. He smeared a fat load of the salty sour stuff on some hard toast. He chewed and swallowed it all. He enjoyed it for just a moment, before he recoiled in horror, gagging deeply and groping for liquid.
	Jyri recovered and we were friends again.
	I visited Paris with my brother. He speaks French. Listen to him talk to the cab driver (123k .wav file.
	I met my friend Jerome at Cafe du Flore, on Boulevard St. Germain. He's a documentary filmmaker.
	Jerome pointed out famous locals to me, like this man. This man sells newspapers. He holds the newspaper aloft, while crying out "ça y est! ça y est!" which is like "it happened! it happened!" Then he makes up a bunch of stuff. When he wandered into our cafe, he declared that parliament had lowered the retirement age to 35. Jerome says he often mingles sex and scandal, Monica and Osama to make media commentary and sales of newspapers.
	This is a picture of my brother and me in London last December.

February 2005 - comments are closed on Links.net. Thanks.