It's Guy Fawkes night and, as we headed over Waterloo Bridge, fireworks were going off behind the National Theater, blue and purple and gold pinwheels behind the dark blue walls of the theater. We could still see them flashing as we got out in the little corridor between buildings that is the stop for Waterloo East. At home, we settled down on the couch and continued watching them through the windows: through the leaves of the tree across the street, behind the apartments across the river, and some kind of booming whiteout hidden by an office right next to the bridge that made it look like central London was getting blitzed again. We had bowls of beef stew made out of the leftovers from last night and peeped up and went ooh and then got back to the busy business of eating (and getting things together for our trip this weekend). Later I added some barley to the stew, and it's even better now than it was.
So now it's past 10 and I'm done for the night; I actually packed so we'll be pretty well ready to go after what's going to be a busy week (Glengarry Glen Ross tonight, dance at the Barbican Wednesday, and Aida on Thursday) without too much fuss. It's amazing to read about how I was feeling this time last year; tonight feels like it's nothing but pure relaxation.