Who has tickets to the Rufus Wainwright opera? Me!

I know that the rest of the world has abandoned sartorial standards, but I actually care about what I wear. Every day, all the time, even when I look like a raggedy fool. But especially in the context of events one would have dressed up for in, oh, 1890.

Most of my clothes were sorted and packed for the upcoming mystery move, and I have no time to shop. Rummaging in the high shelves of the studio I finally found an adequate garment, but it hurts my neck!! Oh, how troubling. Whatever shall I wear? Hmm….

Back in Cambridge, I stopped to watch cute indie buskers playing a set in the city centre…. only to get busted by council staff in this Town of No Fun.

As I walked away a Hare Krishna tried to snag me with “Do you practice tai chi? You look so balanced.”

I resisted an urge to smack.

I haven’t been this annoyed by the town I live in since 1988.

We went to Kensington Gardens to ride a replica of Stephenson’s Rocket, then it was back to the flat to eat cinnamon jellybeans and watch Doctor Who.

I’ve always been a fan, lonely and mocked within the family infrastructure for this pleasure. But now my kid likes it, so I finally have a pal! We watch the new episode each week, and of course there is a massive archive on youtube.

Later I managed to get lost at the Barbican (this seems to be my natural state) then it was off to meet Paul Finlay & the Lucy’s Diary crew to watch Kid Carpet and Milk Kan at the 12 Bar Club.

Really good – and then the nightbus! Yummy….

My kid is doing a course at the BFI so I spent the day working in the Tate members room.

The view is amazing, the people annoying. I spent the morning brandishing a copy of the Daily Mail in front of my face to repel unwanted flirtatious attention from artistic bald men.

But the afternoon was worse – the cafe filled with posh women and their misbehaving children.

When I had kids in my entourage, I can assure you they were never allowed to scream and run about, climb on chairs, smear jam on strangers. That isn’t cute, it is obnoxious. Civilized behavior is an imperative in all age groups.

Though I was more comprehensively disgusted by the notion that this public institution serves as the playground of people who can afford to buy the stuff on the walls.

Note to development staff: if you want a shot at my donations, and even potentially my estate, you should work on creating and promoting programs that serve a public interest. Your wine evenings for members? Ick.

Oh, and I am perfectly serious. My last will and testament invests scholarships for disadvantaged youth. I just haven’t decided who gets to administer the money – my alma mater? My favorite nonprofit organization or museum? What a fun guessing game.

I should start a Take a Teen Mom to Tate program.

I went walking through Finsbury Park, and ended up on Hampstead Heath. London is such a mysterious city …. I am surprised every day I spend here.

In my wandering I encountered a Famous Rock Star, but only noticed because he was staring at me.

Maybe he liked my spectacles.

I am in London and on a quest to sort out the question of unmentionables.

Prepared to pay any price I slogged from store to boutique, with no luck.

Thwarted by capitalism! In our global economy, the mediocre prevails. Even the most expensive shops all stock the same limited array of goods. In another era I would hire a seamstress, and at this point, the option makes a lot of sense.

How much of my time is devoted to these concerns?

How much do I spend on merchandise that does not suit my needs?

Oh, and an existential question: if cleavage is fashionable now, why are the relevant undergarments still so ugly?

I was just informed I can’t be a kept woman as I am too opinionated. Evidently the other assets would pass inspection.

In national news: potential for hung Parliament? Possible invocation of Lascelles principles?

Oh, how I long for voting rights!

Happy, happy, happy birthday wishes to my excellent mother! Thank you for bringing me into the world, and keeping me alive love enough to see it. Wish I could be there to celebrate. I owe you countless treats!

Point Defiance, 1974:

Well golly; never thought I would live to see US health care reform pass….

Now for the messy bit: implementation.

I’m reserving judgment on whether it will work as stated, or turn into yet another quagmire. Those of us with pre-existing conditions (and money + jobs) are definitely better off than before, but it will take at least ten years of of tricky machinations before we know how the new system will work. Or fail.

Particularly the risk pools: will we be purchasing high quality care, or bog standard neglect? Massive inequalities between have and have-nots appear to remain an enshrined principle.

Let me know how it looks in a decade or so.

Personally I prefer the NHS model. Indifferent care for everyone! Hurray!

Give me unwashed hands but true equality, any day, anywhere.

First picnic, first daffodils, and the Strawberry Fair has been cancelled – triple hurray!

As I ran errands today a hooded youth approached in the city centre and demanded “give me money!” Lucky for him, it was my kid. Main clue? The aviator goggles.

Why does it always surprise me that I possess the archives for the Washington State Governors’ School for Citizen Leadership? I’ve been dragging the stuff around for what, twenty-one years?

Anyone else want a turn? There is lots of good stuff, including all of our various appearances in the media… and quite an assortment of other juvenilia. Including “poetry.”

I won’t share the photographs. Too incriminating!

If I give away my transistor radio collection, I will forget I ever had such a thing. Right? Right.

Moving is always difficult. Moving a mass of unsorted junk complicates the process. The lack of a stated destination is one challenge too many!

Also: if I lived in the states, there would be more than one store selling moving boxes. And they would all be open past six pm.

I spent the afternoon contemplating boxes of unsent thank you letters spanning four decades of graduations, weddings, births, awards. Is it sadder that I wrote, but did not mail? Or that I kept them through twenty or more moves…. across two continents?

The clothing collection that once required 750 sq feet of storage has been ruthlessly reduced to fit in four medium boxes. Not including handbags, obviously.

My favorite observation so far: shredding unopened love letters is a uniquely rewarding experience.

But hey! I miss these glasses! Why do I still have a newspaper clipping, but not the desired object?!