Our radically revised plan was to take a walk on the canal that goes through Camden and to Little Venice. So at ONLY 4 PM or so, we finally actually made it to our starting point, then promptly stopped to have tea with wechsler (who was in the neighborhood).
Afterwards we began our walk in earnest. Now, let's be honest, it's a really neat walk and I was finding myself suffering from some serious house envy. That said ...
I was also worn out. Tired. Wanting to sit for the next two hours, and then haul my butt down south and sit and eat and just do not much. But no, I was on a walk. So I kept going at a leisurely pace, until we got to Regents Park (a mere half hour, I'm sure), at which point I decided I was Very Very Tired and I was going to need to sit down.
There was no choice but to cross the park, really (as I had to get to the tube station), and, though I would under most circumstances say that it was a lovely park, today it seemed unbearably large. What were people thinking, wasting all of this open space on grass and trees? Eventually we made it to the rose garden, and, hurray, there were benches, and with so many people picnicking or using the lawn chairs, I was able to flop down ...
and then find out I didn't have to take the train down south for dinner. Shoot me, but the way I was feeling it just all seemed like a reprieve.
After a great deal of sitting and a bit of flower sniffing (and playing with the new camera to see if it more accurately reproduces the color of roses than shadowdaddy's camera, and playing with the phone to see if it could really connect with the interweb, and lo, I got movie times), we wound up in Hammersmith eating at the Green Pepper on Kings Road and then going to the Cineworld (the cheapest of the theater chains - tends to stint on toliet paper) to see the 8:30 Harry Potter (or the 8:50 if you only count from when the commercials ended) because, hey, wingedelf liked it, and why not.
And, what do you know, it was good, better than all of the others, with some genuine Act Ting and no long boring bits that made me want to claw my eyes out to make the pain go away. So thumbs up to old Danny and the gang for showing me a good time tonight.
Now we're home drinking plum wine and looking out the window, and the lights were just turned off in Bishops Park, and we both agreed that this evening really played out just like it might have any old not-really-got-our-crap-together kind of way in Seattle, only there we might have wandered around Volunteer Park and somehow it seems likely we'd have had dinner in Chinatown. I did learn, though, that while you should let sleeping dogs lie, poking sleeping cats is extremely funny, especially if they're hiding behind the toliet. And, I think, we should take a train trip in Scotland.