Raining in London

I know you're surprised, but despite the weather the feted 30th-point-five BBQ was a good times evening of catching up on the latest Dalstonian happenings. I did feel a pang of regret for ever leaving, until I looked up and got wet. But, in the end, the dampness brought all those memories into sharp relief: the smells (spunk trees), the flavours (red stripe and curry), the colours (so many shades of grey - but without an eskimonian vocabulary to describe them). Oh London, how I loved thee.

From high brow to low brow, in no particular order

Back in London and I jusst can't get enough of old man pubs. I never realised just how much I missed them, or how sorely lacking they are in a big city like New York.

I wanted to annotate these pictures, but ever since Google took over I can't see my pictures when I'm writing (Google, if you're listening... and I know you are, because of all that targeted advertising...). So annoying.

So here's a selection - feel free to make Derrida-esque connections between completely unrelated items. There's the amazing Gormley exhibition at the Hayward. The ads for the National Gallery - putting copies of classics in public places. There's an Arthur's fry-up (nothing changed there). The pubs and more pubs. There's installation art and Selfridges windows. And then there's Kieron looking mighty fine in a hoodie of his own devising - you can't see the image until you take a photo (with a flash, of course - heence the visual gag). All in all, an awesome week of vacation.

Woodstock for the feint-hearted

Jenn's birthday weekend in Woodstock was actioned-packed. Plastic tablecloths, wet suits and Dunlop Volley's, hungover yoga. These are New Yorker's in relaxation mode.

Will's place

Jess and Ketan and their friend Will were nice enough to have me round for a weekend in Will's Connecticut house - cooking, wine, swimming, rain. Good times. Not enough Lyme disease.