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A catching-up sort of weekend
Sep. 3rd, 2012 11:49 am...where we gradually whittle down the post-Raglan lingering laundry pile (both mud and leather dye came out of the fitted gown I wore on one rainy day), and continue down the list of mending (new sleeve for a chemise, fencing mask edge re-glued), cleaning (multiple pairs of muddy shoes), and putting away (linens, canvas).
My underbed boxes, and their cousins the garment bags, are giving up the ghost - the box lids just don't last, even if the boxes themselves are fine, and the garment bags aren't made to be handled, hauled about - I think they're made for storing stuff indefinitely.
I have a plan to order new boxes, in the continuing battle against the moths that chomp on our wool clothing. Guess what the Plastic Box Shop sells online?
Last week marked Harley's anniversary with us. It was an August long weekend 2009, post-Raglan, that we returned from a movie and spoke to a chatty little calico cat who had wandered into our close. She was still hanging around the house in the morning and Robert fed her a hot meal of lamb and rolled oats, and it was all over bar the screaming (ie. the visit to the vet).
In our culturally uber-hip household, we're viewing Buffy season 6 (including the brilliant musical episode, watched 3 times) and Blackpool, a BBC drama from 2004. It's a slightly bizarre story where characters burst into contemporary song once in awhile, to accentuate their feelings.
I'm enjoying it mainly for the David Tennant quotient - the rest of the characters aren't that likeable.
On the 'going out' front, we've found a London Fields brewery opened this weekend, with an intro event set in the railway arches near London Fields station on Sunday - foodie stalls, crafty boutique stalls, gourmet gelato (the chocolate was very good, I wasn't ready to try the blood-orange and white wine flavour) and local beer with seating on pallets and beer barrels.
The clientele was very like the usual Satuday Broadway Market variety - youngish hipsters and creatives. I felt almost too old to be admitted.
However, this makes two local breweries opened in Hackney in a matter of months - perhaps there's hope for an east-end renaissance, at least on the beer-drinking front?
My underbed boxes, and their cousins the garment bags, are giving up the ghost - the box lids just don't last, even if the boxes themselves are fine, and the garment bags aren't made to be handled, hauled about - I think they're made for storing stuff indefinitely.
I have a plan to order new boxes, in the continuing battle against the moths that chomp on our wool clothing. Guess what the Plastic Box Shop sells online?
Last week marked Harley's anniversary with us. It was an August long weekend 2009, post-Raglan, that we returned from a movie and spoke to a chatty little calico cat who had wandered into our close. She was still hanging around the house in the morning and Robert fed her a hot meal of lamb and rolled oats, and it was all over bar the screaming (ie. the visit to the vet).
In our culturally uber-hip household, we're viewing Buffy season 6 (including the brilliant musical episode, watched 3 times) and Blackpool, a BBC drama from 2004. It's a slightly bizarre story where characters burst into contemporary song once in awhile, to accentuate their feelings.
I'm enjoying it mainly for the David Tennant quotient - the rest of the characters aren't that likeable.
On the 'going out' front, we've found a London Fields brewery opened this weekend, with an intro event set in the railway arches near London Fields station on Sunday - foodie stalls, crafty boutique stalls, gourmet gelato (the chocolate was very good, I wasn't ready to try the blood-orange and white wine flavour) and local beer with seating on pallets and beer barrels.
The clientele was very like the usual Satuday Broadway Market variety - youngish hipsters and creatives. I felt almost too old to be admitted.
However, this makes two local breweries opened in Hackney in a matter of months - perhaps there's hope for an east-end renaissance, at least on the beer-drinking front?
