One long nap with my head pillowed on shadowdaddy's legs later and I was ready to finally face the extremely gorgeous day. We decided to go to Notting Hill and check it out. What do you know; Sunday is the day there is NO market on Portobello Road, but there was enough good window shopping and a couple of cool outdoor stalls and MANY fewer people than on a normal day and it all seemed quite worthwhile. I found some 20s era prints of sea life - cuttlefish (I think; octopus faces but no tentacles), seahorses, and corals and sea anemones; and I allowed myself to be seduced by their watery charms and took them all (the three of them) home with me. I'll find some of that blue sticky stuff and put it on the walls in the flat in their plastic bags eventually.
After this we walked up to Hyde Park and did the whole stroll on the north end of the park. I finally got to see Speakers' Corner, which reminded me of a scene from the Life of Brian. Is this traditionally a place for religious fanatics to spout their poison? We'd spent some two hours in the sunshine under the leafless trees enjoying our day, and the effect of Speakers' Corner was jarring and had me hurrying back to the flat.
We'd asked wechsler to pick us up some ingredients for grub, and (after a cup of tea) I got down to it, whipping up a rather traditional Southern dinner (all inspired by the excess cheese from the party). Once dinner had settled a bit, we returned to the dining table for a round of Tigris, which shadowdaddy won rather handily, in part due to my uncontrolled meddling. I love watching people fight in this game, but I really ought to pay attention to the occasional unanticipated outcome, as my thoughtlessness basically set him up to win. Oh well, we all had a lot of fun. Now it's time to put the tapioca in the fridge, stretch my quads and do my various other physio exercises, and call it a night.
PS: Proust now at page 750.