The Rat Pack..Live (in a manner of speaking) and Swingin'

Another Friday night in Canary Wharf...this one cut unfortunately short by what was supposedly a summer shower (quite frankly it felt more like October, but...hey). Featured this week were the performers from a West End tribute the immortal Sammy, Dean, and Frank. As quite a big dork, I mean fan, of this music for a number of years, I can tell you they weren't half bad. The gentleman impersonating the legendary Francis Albert Sinatra was the best, even with a bit of British peaking out from under his adopted Hoboken accent. The big band from Brighton that accompanied them was spectacular. They played a great Soul Bossa Nova (both Quincy Jones and Austin Powers would have been proud).

Bruce and Caroline, formerly of New Zealand, were present once more, but had much better seats than we did. Instead, proving how small the planet really is, we were sitting in front of a group that included some Americans. Not only were they from Columbus, Ohio, but one plays hockey for a school that competes against Mercyhurst and another has friends in Saegertown (what are the odds?). The latter took this picture...

The Friday nights at Canary Wharf have become not only a (free) good time, but an opportunity to hone my picnic skills. This week's menu included sandwiches of brie and hand-carved turkey breast (deli meat means something very different here) a la Christie's Baby at Figgie's, the now-famous stuffed mushrooms, more cherry tomatoes, more fruit, chocolate eclairs (from the bakery I want to live at), a bottle of German rose, and (of course) the obligatory Toblerone. (I would just like to note that I got exactly two pieces of the Toblerone.)

Ryan has expressed some feelings of inferiority in the face of my culinary prowess...I would like to state, for the record, that, under the circumstances, his picnic was superb...I had all day to stuff mushrooms and make sandwiches...Now, if he'd just stop eating all the Toblerone.

During the "interval" the rain that had been threatening all night started to fall. We stayed for a bit in the cover of one of the many huge buildings that ring the park as they started singing again..."Singin in the Rain" and "Stormy Weather"...very clever. We left after a medley of West Side Story songs by "Sammy" to the accompaniment of a bongo.

Canary Wharf Take 2

Back to Canary Wharf Friday night for Moya Brennan (the mother of contemporary Irish music)! Bono said of her voice, "It's the most enchanting sound that any human being will ever experience" :-) We agree!! And in an enchanting place...or at least as an enchanting as it gets in "Big City" London ;-). I'm a sucker for a skyscraper and the whole thing is surreal (see pic at left for an idea).

OH THE IRONY!!! Moya on the big screen singing so beautifully in Irish and strokin her harp just 20 yards from the site of one of the biggest IRA attacks in history!

Last week I pulled off one of the best impromptu picnics in the long and distinguished history of British Picnics (caps). This week, once again, Lynnsey proved her culinary prowess (outdoing herself and me in the process); this picnic was FABUSCRUMPTUOUS! Everyone who passed by our blanket (parked about 15 yds from stage btw) was droolin: garlic herb tortellini in a marinara sauce, fresh ripe cherry tomatoes, roasted chicken, ciabatta and olive oil, fresh berries, a bottle of fine french chardonnay AND TIRAMISU...oh and...the Toblerone thief struck again!

Chilly night but we kept each other warm after killing the bottle of vino. We'll have to blog soon about the weather (I know Lynns has touched on it a bit already but it deserves a whole dissertation. Reeeedickulous! But you just start to roll with the punches after a while. Next time it rains I'm gonna bring my camera with me so stay tuned :-). The sum of it is that its A LOT cooler here than in the US.

The coolest part of the evening (like that transition) though was meeting Bruce and Caroline Le Gros. Interesting couple from New Zealand of all places who live aboard their boat, came here 20-30 years ago and stayed. Not sure what they do exactly (we didn't get that far) but he was deadeye dick with a camera and took this shot of us :-)...hopefully we can feenangle our way into dinner on their barge on the Thames :-D!

Off to watch the first Pyrennean mountain stage of the Tour!

Yours Truly,
--R

A study of the Ryan in his natural habitat

Today we take a look at the Ryan in his natural habitat. These never-before-seen photos bring to light the strange, but fascinating, daily routine of this mysterious creature.

In the photo below, we see the Ryan on his 'computer.' The Ryan spends a great deal of time throughout the day seemingly attached to this strange device. He seems especially attracted to something called "news."

Here we see the Ryan in his most natural state. He is holding what researchers initally called a 'blackberry,' but have renamed 'crackberry' because of the Ryan's apparent addiction to it. Interestingly, when the device is taken from the subject, he gets increasingly anxious. Researchers are debating the ethical questions of depriving the Ryan of his 'blackberry' to further study the effects of its absence.

Again, the Ryan is captured on film with his 'blackberry.' This time, however, he seems to be using it as some sort of primitive communication device. Perhaps he is looking for more "news."

One intrepid photographer, at great personal risk, startled the Ryan early in the morning at his most dangerous. Here, we see him with a cup of some sort of caffeinated beverage.



Researchers are excited to continue their studies of this Ryan and will be periodically releasing new findings to the public as they understand more about this intriguing specimen.

Mum's the word...

Essex has great schools. More than half (I believe) of the top 10 in England are located here.

This might explain the odd thing I've noticed while wandering around our little corner of it...A large percentage of women are in one of the following three situations when I see them in my daily wanderings:

1. Pregnant...very, very pregnant. Not just pregnant, but annoying, happy, cute pregnant. Not my-ankles-are-swollen-I'm-the-size-of-a-house pregnant, but Liz-Lange-pretty-clothes-cutesy pregnant.

2. Pushing a "buggy" with a newborn (not a "proper pram like we used to 'ave" as the lady at the laundromat told me today while I waited for the sheets to dry...some things you just can't hang on a drying rack). These strollers are usually the double kind and often have a toddler in them as well. Most of the time that toddler is way too old (in my humble, but educated opinion) to be in a stroller.

3. They are pregnant (again, cutesy pregnant...not I-vomitted-all-morning pregnant) AND pushing a buggy with (usually) an infant in it.

There are an alarmingly large number of them. I'm thinking of going into business selling buggies, as a matter of fact. If they ever decide to revolt, all of England will be in danger.

It must be something in the water. I think I'll have some juice.

The Sun Never Rises on the British Empire...

Every morning it's beautiful here when we wake up (I mean when Ryan wakes up and I pretend that I'm awake and mumble incoherently for a bit...stinkin' morning people). Anyways, it's sunny and not too cool, not too warm. Then around 8 a.m. it clouds over. It's great again around 10, then cloudy again around noon, when it usually tries to rain. Sunny again until about 3 p.m. when, according to the locals, it rains just in time for school to let out. Every day. If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes...It'll change. This place makes Edinboro, PA seem consistent.

It was starting to rain...around 3 p.m. (go figure) when I took this picture of my second favourite (they've gotten to me!) sign.

I say this is my second favorite sign, because we passed one the other day that I pray I'll be able to take a picture of. We were in the car on the way back from Stanstead Airport (no, this was not the time Ryan nearly killed me...although riding with him certainly livens up my days) and I saw a sign that said, "Secret Nuclear Bunker." (C'mon, SECRET nuclear bunker? That's funny! I don't think I'd want a sign on my secret nuclear bunker...) If we can find it again, I promise I'll take a picture.

P.S. Mom, Ryan didn't really almost kill me...I was just kidding. He's really doing quite well...what, with the steering wheel being on the wrong side of the car, having to shift with his left hand, and driving on the wrong side of roads which are often only a car and a half wide. You'd be proud!

Paddy Whack

One of our buddies is crashing at our place in Brentwood this week. Sort of an Austin Powers International Man of Mystery type - from Darkest Peru, did a stint in London, lived out of his backpack in Corfu...He showed up at our door on Sunday looking like he'd been in hibernation for 4 months. Said he passed out on St. Patrick's day at Molly's and just woke up with 4 sets of beads and a wad of Andy Jacksons in his g-string...I don't wanna know...

L & R

My cup of tea...

This really is my cup of tea (although tea is better in the kitty cup Ryan bought for me...you know the way ice cream tastes better on a fork?) in our kitchen here in fabulous Brentwood, Essex. You know, the one that has a washing machine in it. I drank a lot of tea before I came to England, just ask my seventh graders. Tea is about the only thing they're doing right.

This leads me to the question of British cuisine (I'll take oxymorons for 100, Alex...). People in the United Kingdom are in deep denial about the quality of their native cuisine. What's funny is their obvious preoccupation with other foods. There are more Italian, Indian, Chinese, and French restaurants in Brentwood (in that order, I think) than there are pubs (and that's saying alot!) not to mention all the cookbooks available dealing with other cuisine. If you dare to address the situation, however, they are much offended. It's as though they can ignore the fact that the rest of the the world thinks their food is horrible.

Toad in the hole, bangers and mash, bubble and squeak, spotted dick? C'mon! Who wants to eat something called spotted dick? It's actually a sponge dessert (or pudding) with raisins and some not alltogether disgusting things, but it's still called spotted dick. Don't even get me started on haggis...

So, as an American who is a reasonably accomplished cook, I have dutifully looked through the "cookery books" and tried to find something that look normal or at least edible. I haven't really come up with much (with the possible exception of a recipe from Gordon Ramsay...the Hell's Kitchen guy...it was a ravioli of brioche pastry around a sphere of chocolate ganache that is deep fried and then rolled in sugar...I just gained back some weight thinking about it).

I have made tacos. That was an interesting shopping trip. And just ask Ryan about trying to find maple syrup, eh? Those of you in Erie, thank your neighbors to the north for their often underappreciated contribution. He finally found two bottles and bought both just in case! You certainly can't have (the best) French toast (ever) without syrup.

I went all traditional on Sunday and made a roast (I think that counts as the "meast and two veg"). It was better as leftovers. I think that's the point, actually.

I'm plotting on picnic-y stuff for another Friday in Canray Wharf. That shouldn't be too hard...Should it?

Tomorrow's dinner is pork chops and home-made mcaroni and cheese (which Ryan seems to think means Kraft). I have to admit, for all my abilities in the kitchen, I love some Shake 'N Bake on pork chops. The original chicken kind, not the pork. I never though I'd find it here in Englad. I was right, but I found something even funnier...

The Empire Strikes Back

We were totally stoked out last night! The BBC has a summer series at Canary Wharf's Canada Tower Park. Last night the London Symphony Orchestra played movie scores. These are the guys that brought you the Star Wars score 30 years ago and they finished with a set from the movie!! Way cool! Na Na Nana Na...!

We improvised a picnic on the pitch with a bottle of screw top rose (no glasses necessary) and a stick of Toblerone :-) (see left some guy trying to steal our picnic)

The building in the foreground is the HQ of Barclays, the one to the left is the HQ of HSBC. An the big one above is Canada Tower, the tallest building in London. Who says size doesn't matter? :-D.

R

Mind the Gap

They say that England and the U.S. are two countries separated by a common language. You realise (ha!) this the first time you try to find the exit or the dish soap.





We all knew this, of course, but it's sometimes truly funny to be immersed in it. I'm not sure why exactly it is that I am so cracked up by the "way out" as opposed to the exit. Or why "washing up liquid" is amusing (especially since I don't much care to wash dishes). It is, regardless of the logic behind it, a constant source of amusement.

It's not just that, either. I'm of the firm belief that the washing machine does not belong in the kitchen. Nor do I understand why people who live in one of the dampest places I've ever been seem to be unconcerned with owning a dryer. Unfortunately for me, the washer continues to maintain its existence in the kitchen no matter how silly I think it is. It's probably not going anywhere either, so I guess I'll just have to live with it.

Everything here makes me think of a Monty Python sketch. Really, everything. No kidding. I never really understood how perfectly they satirized this culture. Things are even funnier in light of being here and experiencing it, even thirty-odd years later.

--Lynnsey