London Riots

In the 24 hours I Have been back in London, I have seen more police than in the past year. They are everywhere. And I do feel a bit safer. It also gives an interesting sense of community. They chat with people and offer directions. And they seem relaxed. The stores generally seem tense. And again today I noticed that there are way fewer people out than normal. While eating at a local pub, we noticed a broken window. The waiter said, "Yeah, that's from the riots. There were a group of guys across the street. They saw us inside looking at them. We were afraid, so we went to the back. They ran over and broke the window. Doesn't make sense. I work for a living and these guys just run around being stupid."

Some stores had preventatively boarded up the glass. I walked down the antiques section of Islington. Usually there are several little vendors set up selling all sorts of things in a flea market type setting. About half were not there. Two Bobbies were in front of me, strolling. One of the vendors said, "Where are the hoods? What have you done with them? I haven't seen any since Wednesday last.". The Bobbie responded, "Locked up, we hope." The men all nodded and grinned. There was a slight air of success, that maybe it really was all over. The vendor looked relieved.

While walking down Upper St, I overhear conversations about police brutality and austerity cuts, the poor and the disenfranchised. I hear Frustration and anger. The shop keepers are nervous. I have never been rushed out of stores so fast as I have in the last two days. But mostly, mostly, people are out enjoying themselves as the English do. They persevere.

Dancing with an Oompa Loompa

Untitled, a photo by daradactyl on Flickr.

As it happened, it was another gorgeous weekend in London. Sunny, warm...perfect weather. I don't even remember the London of December with its snow and rain and freezing temps.

I was lucky enough to spend an ample amount of time with my dear Disney friends, Mohit, Dawn, Scott and Clay. They've been doing presentations for Tangled in Germany and here in London. So, the first night, we met up in Chinatown for dinner. As we approached Gerard St, we could hear music blasting from a stereo. And then we saw them. About 20 Oompa Loompas. And they were dancing. As they do. Everyone stopped and pulled out their cameras. I mean how often do you get to see Oompa Loompas - dancing no less!

One spotted me and made a bee line. The photo depicts his purposeful walking in my direction. These people always find me. Partly because I make eye contact and partly because I want to be found. Once a ham, always a ham. Although I must admit I wasn't quite prepared to dance.

And so I found myself in the middle of a circle of Oompa Loompas, dancing. And they were all taller. Geez - I can't even out-measure an Oompa Loompa! I did manage to get a photo mid-dance. Note the lip-bite of concentration, the hands poised, almost going for the batusie. And then the song was over and that was the end. Good thing as I was hungry.

Once inside, we got the usual table upstairs. I've been to this place several times and never sat on the first floor. I think you have to be family to do that. We asked the waitress to take our photo and she warned us there was a £5 charge. We politely declined and I tried to hide the camera, least she try to snatch it, take a photo and demand her fee. Stoned faced, she motioned for the camera and said, "No. It's free." Wow. She's good. She should play poker. We had no idea she was kidding. Awkward!

Around that time, I noticed the Dancers had left and we were now listening to the soothing sounds of a saxophone baring out Careless Whisper. Thinking back, I'm not sure if he played anything but the sax solo.

London is starting to top LA in random, odd happenings. Maybe this stuff just follows me. Either way, it makes me happy.

The Royal Wedding

It was amazing.  Just being in the crowd and being in the middle of London was exciting. 

Kim and I took the tube to Charing Cross station and had no trouble getting there.  We walked over to Trafalgar Square where it was starting to get busy.  The bells at St Martins were peeling and would continue to do so right up until the ceremony started at 11a.  We took in the atmosphere and excitement and decided to walk closer to the route.  I had hoped to get a spot near the Banqueting House since I thought it would be a lesser landmark and possibly less crowded.  I was probably right since we had no way of getting there except to go all the way around the route and approach from the south.   Along the way, we would ask the nice security guards or the bobbies if there was a way to get over there.  No.  Turns out - they weren't from around here.  Just about everyone we talked to was imported security for the event.  We Americans knew the city better than they did.  So back to the Square we went.

Kim found a nice spot where we could see most of the jumbo-tron.  We settled in time for the big guests to arrive.  We yelled and waved our free flags courtesy of Hello! Magazine each time the Queen (Elizabeth or Elton) appeared.  The moment Kate appeared for the first time, carefully slipping her dress into the car, the whole crowd sighed.  She was perfect.  I suspect most people had something puffier - more Diana-like - in mind.  Since after all this wedding is meant to be the happy ending to the fairy-tale started 30 years ago, derailed by the horse woman and crashing to an end that night in Paris.  Everyone was thinking of Diana and how proud she'd be.  And happily, Kate wasn't a cookie cutter replacement for Diana.  She is her own person; the perfect Princess to take the Monarchy into the Modern Age, something Diana started, but wasn't able to finish.  She appeared poised, confident and aware of the shoes she is about to step into. 

As she walked down the aisle, there wasn't a dry eye on the square.  And there was an audible chuckle when Harry stole a cheeky, backwards glance.  When she arrived at the alter with William, still holding her father's hand, not linking arms as you so often see, there was a calm sense of joy.  These two really love each other.  They are comfortable with each other.  Oh yes, Diana would be proud!  Her son married for love and friendship.  And that made everything seem all is right with the world.

Toward the end of the ceremony, we headed over to a local pub for fish and chips and more HD viewing.  We passed people dressed in wedding dresses, outrageous hats, Union Jacks, painted faces.  The whole of England was just so....happy!  After Guinness and fish, we watched the kiss on the balcony.  And then they announced the fly-over of the RAF guys.  At that very moment, we heard the low roar of the planes as they passed us overhead just seconds before appearing on screen.  SkyTV missed the second kiss, having the cameras on the planes at the time.  So there was confusion as they played back footage of the second, longer, kiss.  And as they disappeared back into the Palace, we ventured out onto the streets of London.  There weren't that many cars around, as many streets were blocked.  It gave this sense of being able to just run around the town which was different and amazing.  You usually can't walk three steps without fear of being run over by a cab.

We decided to make our way to the Palace to see the aftermath but only after checking out the selection of cheesy souvenirs which included Special Kate and Will's Royal Os breakfast cereals and Kate and Wills condoms.  Once to the Palace, we wandered around as people started packing up their campsites and slowly drifting out.  We got to a crossing and suddenly, couldn't go any further.  We had been stopped.  We asked what was going on - no one knew for sure.  Suddenly everyone was calling their "phone a friend" at home to see what was happening on TV.  Funny how the people watching from far away sometimes have more information than those on-site.  We all learned that they were on the move.  But we didn't know who "they" were.  So we stayed at the ready.  And then they drove by.  I heard the crowds and set my camera to movie mode and held it as high as I could.  I am far too short to see anything in a crowd.  But on my little movie, you can clearly see the Aston Martin convertible they drove to Clarence House.  YAY!  I was that close to royalty.  Cool.  A few minutes later, Kim saw Harry leave.  Again, I have a photo of it, but I'm too short to see over a crowd.  We walked around a bit more and by now it was past 4pm.  A full day of royal watching.  And well worth it!

Sugar

*NOTE: I am on a train to Shrewsbury, so exclamations will be peppered through this post.*

WOW!  The Rapeseed/canola plant is in full bloom turning the English hillsides a bright yellow.  It's sunny and vibrant, quite a departure from the gloomy winter of just a few weeks ago.

And on to the Sugar Story.  It was the day James came to visit in March.  He had gone to the flat while I was at work to unpack.  Once we both got back to the flat, I saw this canister labeled "sugar" on the kitchen counter.  James never adds sugar to tea or coffee, so I thought it was odd he would bring sugar with him.  I asked what it was.  He thought it was mine.  Which led us to look at each other incredulously - then whose is it?  I had a disturbed feeling as I realized that someone else had been in the flat.  But how could that be?   I checked the windows - closed and locked.  And anyway why would someone break in, take nothing and leave sugar?

I emailed the landlord the next day.  And by the afternoon, was barraged by emails and phone calls back littered with apologies.  Apparently, a repairman had been sent to repair the faulty buzzer system and though he was specifically told to only access the main panel in the hallway, he for whatever reason decided to let himself into my apartment.  Now, presumably, he would have wanted to check the buzzer.  Maybe he did.  It still doesn't work, so maybe he didn't.  But what he did do is make himself a cup of tea. 

*Arriving in Coventry as Stonehenge is playing on my headphones.  The end part with the mandolin solo is perfectly fitting for the landscape.*

So.  The Tea Loving Repairman has a tea making kit he takes with him which includes a container of milk, tea bags, a cup and a container of sugar.  He left his sugar behind.  The landlord was quite clear that he didn't use my cups or tea.  I am supposing he used my kettle however, otherwise it'd be a very cold cup of tea.  And the Brits aren't all that into Sun Tea.

*Arriving in Birmingham and changing trains.  My 12:09 to Shrewsbury has been changed to a 12:02.  Good thing I asked.  Made it on the train with only 1 minute to spare.  Birmingham.  Hmmmm.  Industrial.*

I still have the sugar container, which is actually a vitamin bottle with "sugar" written in sharpie.  I opened it and it smells like vitamins.  Not my first choice in flavors.  I wonder what that does for tea?  But I hope someday, the repairman will be back to complete the buzzer repair and reclaim his sugar bottle.  How on Earth is he getting on in the meantime?  Unsweet tea, I suppose.

Healing powers of tea.

I was stepping off the 38 at Angel, furious about an exchange from earlier in the day, and I saw him.  A kid, really, in a sleeping bag with his head down, leaning on a phone box.  I have to admit that with so many drunks, I don't really notice people sitting on the street.  But I looked this kid in the face.  He was crying. 

Walking past, I tried to put it all together.  Why was he crying?  Was he homeless?  Maybe he got kicked out of his home.  He looked clean - and so young - maybe 17 or 18.   What should I do?  I don't know how shelters work here.  I don't know where one is.  Maybe churches provide that function?  It was pretty warm out and he has his sleeping bag, so he won't freeze.  But it was gnawing at me.

So I walked back.  I dug a couple of pounds out of my purse and knelt down to place them into his hat.  I caught his eyes, which were red and swollen.  "Are you OK?"  He seemed surprised that I was speaking to him.  He looked back down and said, "Yeah...uh...yeah.  Thanks.  Cheers."  He hesitated.  I wanted him to be ok but also if he said otherwise, I really wasn't sure what to do.  He wasn't drunk or high.  He was just - devastated.  But the kind of devastation that people usually keep to themselves.  I walked away.

Again, it gnawed at me.  The kid was crying.  So I did what I like people to do for me when I'm crying.  I brought him a cup of tea.

Buying the tea was easy until I had to decide if it should have sugar or milk in it.  I like milk, but what if he's lactose intolerant or something?  I started to stray off into the what-if-he-sues-me territory, then admonished myself for being jaded by an overly litigious American society.  I decided plain tea was best.  As I approached, he was staring at the ground again with the sleeping bag pulled up to his chin.  The sight was heartbreaking.

"I brought some tea," I said.  He looked up and thanked me.  Again he seemed surprised.  "It's going to be OK," I said.  I really hoped I was right.  For a second, I think he believed me.

"I hope so."

"It will.  Be careful.  The tea is really hot."  He reached out an arm from underneath the blanket.  despite my warning, he started drinking right away.  Some people do better with hot-hot than others.  I thought to myself, "Oh great!  This kid is having a rotten time and I just helped him singe off the roof of his mouth."  He thanked me again.


I walked away, hoping after a good cry and a cup of tea, things would seem a lot clearer.  I really hope for this kid it's that easy.