We spent last weekend down in London at my in-laws. On arrival, we learned they were watching a vacationing relative’s cat. My mother-in-law told me, “The cat is up in the guest room, I think. He’s so good. We never even know he’s here…”
Standing next to the bed upstairs in that guest room when I heard that from her, I shouted back: “He’s on my pillow!”
Cat lovers among you, please understand: I don’t dislike cats. In fact, I like them.
But there are, uh, you know, limits.
That night, the dog – who used to be our dog, until he moved in with my in-laws because we traveled so much – needed his evening walkie. At least he prefers their old sofa:
As I walked him, I was struck again at how London streets can sometimes be so tranquil even on a Saturday evening…
I thought: “Where is everybody?”
Inside, of course, I reminded myself next. It was 11 pm.
Oh, and I snapped a selfie.
The following morning, we awoke to a surprise…
Snow!!!!! Well, not very much. But still it was… not rain.
London’s reputation is for
sliding into complete Mad Max civilizational breakdown having a tad of trouble coping with even light snow. It once took me seven hours to drive ten miles in a two inch snowfall.
In comparison, over in upstate New York, we call that, “I think I saw some flurries.”
Here in London, the trains stopped. The Tube shut down. Buses came to a standstill. Cars were either crawling along at about 1 mile an hour, or were immobile also, or were sliding into each other.
It felt like one of those “armaggedeon” films. 😉
That was, in fairness, a bunch of years ago now. London did fine last weekend dealing with that “snow event.”
It has also been about 15 years since I’d first – and last – tried this British delicacy, and that experience had not been a wildly positive one. On Sunday morning at breakfast, I decided finally to give Marmite another chance:
If you have never heard of Marmite, it is a yeast-based spread. That is about all I can say about it really. Wikipedia has more…
Apologies to all of you Marmite aficionados out there, but it still didn’t grab me.
I would like to add that I also found (surrounded as I was as well by eager onlookers seeking my of course sophisticated American opinion) that I couldn’t even generally describe its, uh, “unique” (yeh, yeh, let’s call it that) flavo(u)r. Its taste doesn’t really even vaguely resemble any other taste I can pinpoint. Actually, I suppose technically it tastes like yeast… whatever it is yeast is supposed to taste like.
I posted that Marmite pic on Instagram yesterday. My “findings” led to this Marmite discussion in the comments…
Thus social media. What a world. You can cover serious issues, great literature, and/or post what you think are lovely photographs… and sometimes create only a modest stir.
Ah, but just mention MARMITE and that gets you Great Britain’s full attention! Every commenter (who isn’t me) there – except one – is British.
Have a good day, wherever you are in the world. 🙂