The Earth Beneath Her Feet

The Aussie guy I met in Tokyo popped up in London again yesterday and asked me to meet up in Leicester Square with him and some friends at 6pm. I vaguely remembered Leicester Square was a bad idea, so jumped out at Tottenham Court Road and walked down the road towards the square. I was almost there when I heard screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.

That's Cracker Robbie Coltrane, aka Hagrid, being interviewed on the big screen at the soggy premiere of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. A group of teenagers next to me were squeeing over a slightly damp notebook with autographs. It wasn't possible to get any closer and anyway the others had texted to say they'd found refuge in a pub back up Charing Cross Road.

Just as I'd left the square, a well-known actor came hurrying down the road past me, presumably on his way to the premiere. Annoyingly, I couldn't remember his name. He'd been on Inspector Morse once but I wasn't about to wade through 12 series on IMDB to find him. Fortunately, Wingnut came back from the Netherlands an hour ago and helped pin it down, it was Simon Callow, who was Gareth from Four Weddings and a Funeral, Dickens in Dr Who, and the band manager in Lewis. I shall sleep well tonight.

There was heaps to do in Hammersmith (west London) last Thursday lunchtime. The Lyric Theatre's public rooftop garden opened earlier this month to provide some much needed greenery. It still looks a little bare, but that will improve with time.

From my vantage point, I took some shots of the lunchtime entertainment in Lyric Square. When I came down for the next performance, I realised the kid who'd volunteered to help the unicyclist was still there, so I asked the adult with her if they'd like to see the photos. It turned out that they were from Arizona, although the grandmother was originally from Ireland and was also an old Londoner. She reckoned the area used to be a real dump and Lyric Square certainly wasn't called that in her day.

The next performance was courtesy of a small delegation from the BBC Symphony Orchestra, members of which were playing in London throughout the day to promote the new Proms season. They had a challenge or two to contend with. After one or two Beatles songs, the person who was tinkling away on the "Play Me, I'm Yours" piano (one of 30 scattered around the city) was asked nicely to be quieter during the performance. That settled, the gusts of wind got so bad that the cellist and a violinist had to put a foot on their music stands to stop the sheets escaping. While continuing to play as if everything were normal. Don't think that'll be necessary at the Proms but it was impressive nonetheless. :-)

This was a nice surprise in Paternoster Square (near St. Paul's). Presumably it's part of a series of lunchtime concerts but I have no idea who this flamenco group is.

They were all very good, but the guy on the right was just amazing. I must've sat there for quarter of an hour before my buzzing phone reminded me I was actually there to meet someone.

Winner Wanjiru etc.

35,000 raced through the streets of London today in one of the world's most popular marathons.

Shadwell in East London is a popular viewing spot as the competitors run from the 13 to 14 mile mark, looping east to return to the same stretch of road for the 21 to 22 mile marks. The elite women runners were first through, followed by the wheelchair men. The pace was cracking - real chills down the spine stuff.

One of the stewards wondered why she hadn't seen Paula Radcliffe. I had some bad news for her: Britain's most famous marathon runner had to withdraw due to a broken toe. Of all the stupid things, eh?

The elite men runners arrived in a bunch, but on the return journey had become as spread out as the women. They ran against a backdrop of mass runners. Now, that must suck, having run 13.5 miles and seeing the elites going by having done 21.5. Though perhaps worse is sweating away and then seeing stewards sauntering casually down the line, licking ice creams.

As is traditional, a number of mass runners wore costumes. In news that will please one young man of my acquaintance, Spiderman beats Superman and Batman.

Also, it looked like there was a special on Minnie Mouse costumes.

It was quite a surprise to see how many charities were cheering on their runners. Apparently, the London Marathon raises an unusually high amount of money, with most of the competitors racing on behalf of a charity. Though it has to be said that when a purple shirt ran by, I suddenly appreciated the competitors who had names on their shirts. "Go Amnesty" is fine, but "Go Alzheimer's" makes you feel a bit daft.

Anyway, it was hours before I could tear myself away from the humbling and hypnotic sight of all these racers going by. Awesome day.

Xmas - Mostly spent in a relaxed fashion with some of Wingut's family in a house on the edge of Nationaal Park de Hoge Veluwe. Not the prettiest bit but I did get to see the famous Scottish Highlanders (carefully skirted around, that shot wasn't taken from behind a fence!)

After Xmas, Wingnut, his mum and me went skating on the newish 5km outdoor track up at Biddinghuizen. It was awesome. Photos here. Does not include one of me going on my ass.

We returned to London in time for Kiwis from Dundee to visit and for NYE. Wingnut made oliebollen and my brother hosted some bangin' good times at Club Paradise. Although those times became quietly bangin' when a bang on the door at 2am informed us that the people next door had not gone away as we thought and had not taken their baby with them. Oops.

The start of the year called for a "detox" party, which was a successful theme and probably bears repeating. First time I've been at a party where the arrival of each bowl of carrots was greeted with cheers.

Wingnut and me went to the National History Museum's Darwin exhibition at the suggestion of some Dutch friends who'd come to stay. It was an interesting exhibition, following the development of Darwin's ideas instead of doing a straight timeline.

The notable event of last weekend was taking my netbook to The Pembury Tavern in order to test its wi-fi and finding the pub occupied by an entire alt.fan.pratchett meet marking the 11th anniversary of damerell's flounce off the group.

Have probably forgotten half a dozen things, but that'll do for now. :)