Archive for November, 2010


November 7, 2010

When I first got here I looked for my grocery store. Sainsburys was too big. Tesco was too dirty. But Waitrose was just right.

By just right, I mean for people like me: People who live in certain neighborhoods in certain cities, who vote liberal and buy recycled toilet paper and then trash the environment with jet fuel.

(Apparently, one transatlantic flight gives you a worse carbon footprint than a guy who drives a Hummer and air-conditions his mansion year-round. Sigh.)

Back to groceries. They’re just nice here. Take the butter section, which offers:

Irish butter

Italian butter

Devonshire butter

British butter with Maldon sea salt

French butter with Breton sea salt

something called Beurre de Charentes

duck fat

goose fat

goat butter

and regular old organic butter

It’s not just the butter; everything’s heaven. Fruit comes from romantic places like Poland and Egypt, instead of Florida. Cheese comes from France and Holland and the actual village of Cheddar. Eggs come from quails, ducks, and sometimes geese (one per carton). Even regular chicken eggs are available in a choice of white, brown, and baby blue, sometimes with dirt and feathers still attached.

It’s like food from real-live nature.



November 7, 2010

Shelley and Amanda being silly at Kew Gardens.




The Heath.
Lost again.


November 7, 2010

Last month my friends Amanda and Shelley came to stay. I slept on the daybed, and they slept on the main bed, which a) wasn’t weird because they are sisters and b) proves there’s room in my apartment for visitors, viz. you.

We tromped Hampstead Heath and strolled Kew Gardens. We drank tea. And we saw some modern dance.

The troupe was somehow related to Cirque du Soleil, so it was the kind of thing where they jump headfirst through hoops and do pirouettes on their pinky fingers. It was thrilling, but also made clear how far I am from fulfilling my potential as a person with a body.

The other thing we did is get lost. On Friday, Shelley and Amanda were an hour late to dinner. Understandable; it was their first day in London and they didn’t have good maps or GPS.

Then Sunday, equipped with no such excuses, I got us mired in a dumpy neighborhood in East London. It would’ve been perfect if we’d been looking for a kebab or a tank of gas, but we were looking for the Tower of London.

Still, you should visit. I swear the day bed is comfortable.