Sunny summers day

Yesterday was an amazingly gorgeous day, sunny, bright and warm. So I went out for lunch (a big deal since our canteen is so good), and met The Irishman for a banh mi at Eat Street. Here are a few snaps I took on my walk there along the canal.

The only thing that could stop me from running the marathon? Flash floods.

Newsflash: Dublin has been experiencing severe rainfall over the last 48 hours, leading to flash flooding across the city. News reports state that Dublin had a month's worth of rain in 24 hours and the city is in a state of emergency. The video above shows one of the city's biggest malls flood with water through seams in the glass walls, and BBC reports show a bus filling with water as it drives down a city street.

Well, hell, people. Only an act of god could prevent me from running this race and here we have it. There aren't any reports of cancellations or changes yet, but I suspect we'll hear more by the end of the week when the city dries out. I can only hope that if the race does happen, we don't have to run through rain like that!

We're thinking of you, Dub.

Back on track

A little overexposed photography to prove to you all how London has returned to its regularly scheduled weather programming. It's still warmer than average but the breeze carries a chill and when I woke up this morning I had to close the windows (after admiring the scent of woodsmoke). We're supposed to get down into single-digits-Celsius by the end of the week, and I'm secretly pleased as it means I don't have to put together mish-moshed outfits out of the 3 pieces of summer-weight clothing still in my wardrobe.

I'm also back on my running track. Physio Chris cleared me to get back into my marathon training with the following rules: no hills, no cambers, no pavement, and SLOW. I did my first run in 3.5 weeks on Sunday and despite the heat did 4 miles in my normal pace (it was odd, however, to be sweating profusely while crunching through piles of fallen leaves). I felt pretty good post-run, so I'm feeling positive about the race again. But I definitely am listening to my body a lot more, gauging my pain levels and trying to understand where I can push myself and how hard. It's been a learning experience for me, this voyage; yet another sign that I am a mere mortal (with biomechanical issues!) and that "running a marathon" is a lot more of a mental exercise than just running 26.2 miles. 

So now that the universe has been righted and the weather is headed in a more normal direction and I have resumed my running regime (albeit, slightly reduced), I feel like I can confidently look forward to such seasonal delights as crisp apples, fresh breezes, and bundling up against wind and chill. I WANT to hide my freshly tanned legs under tights, so bring on autumn and bring on Dublin Marathon - less than 4 weeks to go!

Heat wave, house search, and running scared.

Photo from Flickr courtesy of lakewentworth

The UK is in the midst of a heatwave and London is hardest hit... we got to 30°C yesterday and will max out around 33°C today. That's about 90°F for you guys in the US and this is VERY HOT for English people. Men are wearing shorts in my office and there's already talk of a pre-lunch ice cream run. Personally I love it even though I'm feeling a bit sweaty; this is the way summer should be, and I'm reveling in the 48 hours of sultry breezes. 

Unfortunately, this week kicks off my marathon training, and the one thing I DON'T want to do is go running when it's hot out. Luckily today is a "rest day" according to my coach Hal, and it starts tomorrow morning with an easy 3 miler. Easy except for the fact that I haven't really run since the end of May. Oops. So not only is the looming marathon freaking me out (it's only 18 weeks away!), but the knowledge that I'm starting out my training with a lowered base level of fitness is also making me sort of wish I'd drunk less rosé in June and done more running. But I can't go back and change it now so I have to make the best of it, buckle down, and take my training seriously.

And in and amongst the heat and the running, I'm flat hunting. Not only flat hunting but neighborhood hunting. I will write up a post about Highgate, but since last weekend we're also considering Stoke Newington, Victoria Park Village, De Beauvoir Town (sort of), with some parts of south London still in the offing. It's only been 2 weeks of solid looking and I'm already fed up. There are so many decisions to make, compromises to consider, and the stress in this heat is really taking its toll. I realized yesterday that I've moved every year since moving to the UK, so I need to take this move seriously enough so that it's the right place for us until we buy a place. In other words, this needs to be pretty perfect. 

Somehow I feel like this is going to be a long, hot summer.

Spotted: Ship-shape and floral-ly!

Upper Street, Islington

April 9, 2011

Temperature: 80°F

Liveblogging our Christmas voyage

After last night's travel debacle, we scoured the interwebs for weather reports and forecasts and cheap available fares. We are now booked on a Virgin train from London Euston to Liverpool, where we will get a flight to Belfast. The Irishman's brother will drive us back to Dublin where last night they got another 8 INCHES OF SNOW! I'm starting to think that if we get there, we may not get back.

So here we go... I'll try to update as often as I can with anecdotes from the journey.

8:10: we're leaving the house early... Just in case.

8:35: first coffee of the day - I'm thinking there will be many today.

8:48: It is dog central in Euston Station!!! I've seen so far 1 Leonberger, 1 Bichon Frise, 2 English Cocker Spaniels, 1 Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. So cute!

8:54: They just announced the train platform for the train to Holyhead where the ferry to Dublin departs, and about 1/3 of the people in the waiting area bolted for the train. It was sheer pandemonium and I'd venture to say it was close to the population of one Irish county. The Irishman has done this train before and it's apparently 5 hrs long so they were all rushing for the good seats. Insert disparaging Irish jokes of your choosing here.

9:01: Platform announced for our train to Liverpool and we join our own (albeit) smaller scrum. Thank god we have seats.

9:17: Delayed - we're waiting for train crew (!) - can't this thing drive itself?

9:25: Our flight to Belfast is already delayed - eff. It's only 10 minutes, but still. Eff.

9:30: Crying baby in our carriage. WE HAVEN'T EVEN LEFT LONDON YET.

9:38: And we're off!! Only 21 minutes late!

9:41: Shit, where did that sun come from? I didn't pack my shades.

9:43: Ok, I'm signing off to finish knitting The Irishman's mother's Christmas present. More soon.

10:21: Sheep in snow-covered fields! How cute! I wonder if their wool will be denser after this winter?

10:23: The Irishman and I plan to sled in Dublin #silverlining

10:48: Crap I forgot my yarn needle, and can't finish making up. #christmasfail

11:17: The Irishman's brother just called. Apparently the roads in both Northern Ireland (NI) and Republic of Ireland (RoI) are the worst they've been all week. OMG what if we get stuck in Belfast?!

11:28: Flight check - still only 10 minute delay. We are 20 minutes from Liverpool, so more when we get to the airport.

11:55: Our flight delay was reversed! Things are looking up, on this side of the Irish Sea at least.

12:04: In a taxi to John Lennon Airport. Our taxi driver decorated his cab for Christmas, and rewarded me with a proper Liverpudlian accent. Check!

13:15: We got to the airport and our scouser cabbie ripped us off by claiming he didn't have change. Hmph. I guess I can chalk it up to an authentic Liverpudlian experience.. But now we've checked in, made it through security, and about to tuck into some surprisingly appetizing Subway sandwiches. Reports from Ireland are comforting - the roads look ok. Fingers are still crossed though.

13:58: To commemorate our trip up here, I just purchased a yellow submarine magnet for my collection.

14:06: We are at the gate. No plane yet, but a long line of Irish people are waiting expectantly.

14:15: Good news - our plane is here! Bad news - I count at least half dozen babies in the waiting area and many of them are crying. At once.

14:34: ON THE PLANE!!!!

14:46: About to take off. Irish brother 10 miles from Belfast airport. I'm signing off for now, will update this when we've arrived... Wherever that may be!

15:44: We just landed in Belfast. It is -5 deg C and everything is covered in snow. The Irishman calculated that this flight cost us £3 per minute. I can't think about that - I need to pee.

16:01: Checked bag claimed and we are off. I'll check back in to let you all know that we got to Dublin okay. Until then, start making merry with your families - wherever you are!

Epilogue: We made it to Dublin last night around 7:30... Greeted with hugs and wine, my favorites. I'm signing off now and hope you all have a very Merry Christmas!! xx

Le sigh

So I'm back in my apartment, waiting for the heat to kick in. Why, you may ask, as I was supposed to be halfway across the Irish Sea by now. But I'm sure you can guess - Dublin got EVEN MORE SNOW and closed the airport at 7:00, just as I was about to settle in at the Stansted Wetherspoon. After lugging our stuff all the way to the airport via two trains and dealing with security, we got a phone call from The Irishman's brother saying that the airport closed so they could clear the runways. Ryanair then cancelled all of the remaining Dublin-bound flights and we had a comical few minutes trying to figure out how to get out of the airport - one can't just go back through security! (they have to lead you out a secret passage to baggage claim, in case you were wondering).

So we came home, dejected, and ran through all of the potential possibilities - ferry from Holyhead (after a 5 hour train ride), or flights from Manchester or Liverpool to Belfast. We decided not to wait to see if Ryanair would put on more flights tomorrow from London as apparently there is supposed to be really bad fog in Dublin tomorrow. The Irishman is sitting at his laptop cursing Easyjet as our new flights that were supposed to be £75 per person were hiked to £96 per person at check out.

We're leaving tomorrow first thing for the train station to go to Liverpool and then getting a flight from John Lennon International Airport (the silver lining - what a rockin' airport to go to!) to Belfast where The Irishman's brother will pick us up and drive us home (only apparently a two-hour drive).

SO. Watch this space. I'm now going to crack open my Christmas cookies and try to relax. Hmph.

Update: Nail biting!!!

Ok so yesterday I told you all that we may face our first Christmas on our own due to all of the potential flight delays. Well, since my post at noon yesterday it has only gotten worse.

16:00 21 Dec: After nearly a foot of snow falling in Dublin, Dublin Airport was CLOSED until 8am today
22:00 21 Dec: BBC Weather forecasts freezing fog at Stansted Airport for the next few days (!!)
08:00 22 Dec: Dublin Airport reopens with delays and cancellations but Ryanair has cancelled most of its flights from London to Dublin because their aircraft aren't in the right places.

Our flight hasn't taken off for the last 3 nights.

GAH!

The Irishman and I made cookie dough last night (more on that later) and contingency plans for a festive meal together on Christmas Day if we do get stuck here, but I think we'll both be really disappointed. All we can do though is wait - we have no idea what tomorrow will be like.

Fingers crossed we make it - and that my fingernails stay intact!

The shortest day of the year

No where else I've lived has the shortest day of the year been so full of portent. It is noon and within three hours it will get dark. But that means that as of tomorrow it will start getting lighter earlier and by the time it's my birthday in March we'll start to see some real progress towards 16 hours of sunlight.

The Irishman and I are facing some serious travel disruptions to our holiday plans. With the issues at Heathrow and Gatwick, we thought we'd escape the madness by flying out of Stansted. But the Met Office is predicting snowfall tonight into tomorrow for north of London and despite Ryanair's dedication to getting their planes up and out of the airports on the dot we may not have much luck. Especially as we're flying out at 8pm and everyone knows delays compound throughout the day.

So we may have to go pick up some sort of meat and have it on the ready, and a few movies on standby, just in case we're here having a cosy Christmas for two. Fingers crossed!

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas…

…everywhere you go. Take a look at the five & ten, glistening once again, with candycanes and silver lanes aglow."

I woke up this morning to the absolute silence that accompanies real snow - not just flurries but a real snowstorm - and The Irishman's snow report. The UK was under a snow warning and all of the London airports were shut or had most of their flights cancelled in preparation for the onslaught. The snow hit us around 10am and within an hour we had driving snow covering the roads, the trees, everything!

But instead of sitting on the sofa, drinking hot cocoa and finishing the knitting projects that are to be Christmas gifts, I had some work to do. Unfortunately, this year The Irishman has been a grinch. While I've been happily putting up the tree and all of our decorations, drinking mulled wine and eating my Cadbury advent calendar, he has been slowly avoiding the Christmas cheer. I'm not sure why, and he isn't really telling, but it may be the fact that we went to the US for 2.5 weeks and returned to find the Christmas season in full-swing. I don't think he had a chance to ease into the holidays and therefore has been ignoring it to the point that HE HASN'T DONE ANY OF HIS CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. And with the weather forecast calling for more and more snow, his de facto option of Amazon ordering is effectively not an option.

So today we suited up and took to the high street to start and finish all of the shopping at once. Holy Jesus, I know it's your birthday but leaving shopping to the weekend before Christmas is horrible. It was HARD. I prefer to do my shopping early and precisely, to avoid these situations, but The Irishman apparently does not. But you know what? Somehow, strolling down the street in 4 inches of snow really did make it feel like Christmas. People were nicer. The shops looked cuter. And I really felt like I earned the mulled wine I treated myself to in the end.

And for the record: The Irishman has declared he is ready for Christmas. Maybe because the Christmas shopping is done. Phew.

Spotted: Snowy Clerkenwell

Exmouth Market and Clerkenwell Close
8am
December 2, 2010

Embracing autumn

This past weekend was the start of the new season for me, and I welcomed it with open arms. It was squash and root vegetables at the Farmers Market, crisp mornings and sun-baked afternoons, a shift from rosé to red wine, and a lot of layers. It means hibernation, warming soups, and crackling fires. I made chicken stock, we ate a stew, I bought some sunflowers, and the Irishman and I were naughty and bailed on an out-of-town obligation in favor of curling up in front of some of the DVR'd tv shows we'd missed while on holiday. < eeps! >

As I sit here typing this at 5:30pm, the sky is already closing in and in the mornings it is noticeably darker longer. Though it's colder and the sun won't shine as much as in the summer, I do love the fall and I am really excited for some brisk walks through crackling leaves and settling into the pub for an afternoon. I have a few days out planned to various areas of town for lovely strolls that I'm looking forward to, and I am craving this delicious red lentil soup that I might make this week.

It is slightly frightening, though, that the year has gone so fast. Only this time last year was I getting back from my holiday in Croatia and Italy, and planning for my visit home to the US. It's nuts that I haven't been back since last November, so I'm also really looking forward to seeing the family and my friends and just being American for a while. I am starting to feel like autumn, while usually a season of twilight, a time for endings and closure and preparation for the stark death of winter, may actually be my time for reestablishing myself and my identity and my person by returning to my homeland and reconnecting with everyone I love. I am kind of excited about reclaiming the season as one of renewal, rather than one of ending. It's already the season of the Jewish New Year (shana tova, peeps!) and that of the harvest, so I think I'll start really celebrating the bounty in my life - of my friends, family, health, and happiness. I'm sure it will do me good.

And the other shoe has... dropped.

Well! I must have been on a holiday high or something yesterday because I breezed through the (somewhat) sunny day in a lovely summery outfit, showing off my tan, rising above the stress of thousands of commuters freaking out about the tube strike and smiling the whole time. Today, however, I woke up to cloudy skies and cold weather and I was just plain exhausted. I was distinctly not with it for most of the morning, stooping to the level of blanking out on the number 19 bus and nearly missing my stop. I wore flip-flops for the commute, and had that weird feeling when your toes are so cold they can't grip the soles, and I noticed that all of the girls I passed had their boots on already. It's only 8 September but I guess it's properly autumn now - Waitrose is selling pumpkins, for goodness sakes! - and therefore my summer holiday is officially over. Yet at the same time, even though I'm wearing layered shirts, cardigans, and scarves (and I changed into heels in the office so, you know, my toes are covered), I feel really zen. Like I really absorbed all of that French sun, and it's powering me from the inside out. It's a lovely feeling, even if I can't quite get moving in the mornings, and I'm hoping I can keep it going for a while. In that spirit, here are a few choice pix from the holiday to inspire me (and you).

Long winter looming

Well, it's been great but I fear that summer is over. Maybe not officially, but it's been cold and cloudy with intermittent torrential downpours for about 2 weeks now and I'm losing faith that we'll get a return to sunshine and warmth. I've found myself wishing I could burrow into my sofa under a blanket for the duration. Meanwhile, I'm the last woman standing at my office who hasn't had her summer holiday and I'm eagerly preparing for our 10 days on the Cote d'Azur at the end of the month. I've been religiously applying Johnson's Holiday Sun self-tanning moisturizer, so my feet are orange and The Irishman says my face is significantly paler than my neck and deems me 'ridiculous'. I'm ignoring him and clutching all of my tank tops and summery dresses because I just can't accept that its mid-August and the Autumn fashions in the magazines have more relevance to the current weather outside my window than they do.

Sometimes I wonder why I choose to live in a country with stunted seasons and a default climate of cold and rainy. Not only is it bleak and depressing, but even now, after a few months of record-breaking heat, I feel like my bones never properly got warm in the summer. My internal temperature gauge never got a good baking. If I don't get to lay in sun, soon, so that I can reset that gauge, I might have to hibernate this winter.

Summertime and the living's easy except for one thing

It's been hot hot hot here in London for the longest time and I am LOVING IT. I keep saying I'm in my natural habitat, because hi it is July and IT SHOULD BE HOT. The Brits around me are all fanning themselves and lamenting the heatwave, nearly melting the minute they step outside into the sunshine. When it is humid, they call it "close" - as in, the air is close and you can feel it - which I find amusing and quaint. But in this hot, sticky, humid, muggy, whatever you call it, weather, I've been absolutely craving ice cream. Obviously there is ice cream for sale here - Ben & Jerrys and Baskin Robbins and Magnum bars and Mr Whippy and lots of artisanal gelato type places - but no one has what I want: soft-serve vanilla in a cone with rainbow sprinkles. It was my treat of choice when I was a kid, and its the best type of feel-good ice cream around. The Mr Whippy soft-serve is gross in comparison, and sprinkles (called hundreds of thousands here, so cute!) aren't really an option.

The Irishman loves ice cream as much as me, and has been treating to some homemade ice creams this year, but sometimes you need a little bit of cheap goodness to make you feel good. So this weekend as all you American readers celebrate the 4th, pop down to your local ice cream parlor and get yourself a soft vanilla with rainbow sprinkles - for me.

SUMMER IS HERE (NSFM)

People, it is edging to 80°F today and its amazing. I'm about to head out for the first mani-pedi of the year and I can't wait. British women seem to think it's okay to wander about the streets of London in flipflops and sandals sans painted toenails, and frankly it's been weirding me out. I'm by no means disgusted by feet - actually, I think they are really interesting as shapes and I used to draw my own feet a lot in art school - but in the summer, when you've got rad new sandals on, you need to paint your toenails. At least file them, and get rid of the nasty bits around them.

This is symptomatic of a great English/American divide in beauty treatments and maintenance. I'm probably going to get a lot of comments about this, probably of the not so pleasant kind, but it's been my observation that women in the UK tend to not be as fastidious about general beauty maintenance. Which is not really a bad thing - and it's much more suited to my style and wallet. But definitely there isn't as much regular waxing, nail painting, facialing, etc. Girls here do a lot more DIY (leg waxing in particular, which stymies me), and definitely finger nail polishing, and trendy girls will always be on top of the style and beauty treatments. But older women especially just sort of go au naturel.

I can't decide how I feel about this, whether I think good for them that they don't buy into the whole "must spend a lot to look good to feel good" routine - the beauty-industrial complex - or whether these ladies are just a bit more relaxed when it comes to standards of beauty. English women are seen sometimes as the frumpier amongst Europeans, lacking the style and poise and general elegance of their Continental sisters. But there is a bit of the salt-of-the-earth, Blitz-spirit, stubborn grace about British women that is beautiful in its own right. British women aren't manufactured or plastic like the way American women can sometimes look, and it's actually sort of nice to see errant eyebrows every so often.

While I admire the way British beauty is often fresh and natural, I am still American and frankly resistant to change. I might go a bit longer between waxings here than I did in NYC, but I still moisturize everything every day and I cannot abide by summer toes showing unpolished. So excuse me, but there is an Asian nail parlor waiting for me.

PS: NSFM = Not Safe For Men.

Oh it rained all weekend? It must have been a Bank Holiday.

Another Bank Holiday come and gone, spent mostly inside looking out the window wondering if the sun would hold long enough for one to pop round the shop and pick up some milk. Except for one notable exception - my first half marathon! Despite Bank Holiday weekends being notorious for having fickle, rainy, and cold weather, The Irishman and I decided it would be the perfect time for me to run my first 13 mile race. Eeps. I survived, obviously, but more importantly I enjoyed it! The course was what Americans term "cross-country" and a Scottish man described as "undulating" - aka, up and down hills that curved through National Trust land full of blooming fields of rapeseed, herds of cows and sheep, and the occasional military testing ground. We ran together and finished in 2 hr 8 min, which is pretty respectable given the terrain. I was a bit disappointed that Stonehenge was actually across the road from the finish line, and that I didn't get to run around it for the final mile, but at that point it didn't really matter as I just wanted to stop.running.immediately.

The race was on Sunday down in Wiltshire, so we headed down to Salisbury on Saturday in some lovely sunny weather to stay with friends who obligingly drove us to the race and back. On the way to Waterloo Station, we stopped in to Somerset House for the Pick Me UP print show and ended up picking up two lovely pieces for a grand total of £24! But post run, we headed back to London and pretty much vegged for the rest of the weekend with a few exceptions for rosé (on my part) with some mates while dodging intermittant rain and an errant hail storms.

And now, it's back to work...

April Showers?

So it's not quite April but the amount of rain coming out of the sky would make one think otherwise. March passed by in a whirlwind, and next week's April Fools kicks off the Easter 4 day weekend. Sweet! The Irishman and I were meant to go to Istanbul for 6 days, a trip that I was getting super excited about, but we've recently had to cancel the whole thing. I've been planning to transition my visa from a Work Permit to Tier 1 for a while now, but the Home Office recently revised the rules and requirements for Tier 1 going into effect on April 6th - the day we were supposed to fly home - and under the new rules I won't be eligible. So with a heavy heart we sucked it up and canceled the hotel and are taking the hit on the flights to the tune of £150 a piece, just so I can submit a 75 page application and my passport with £820 in fees. I'm really freaking out about the whole process - the fee is gigantic and I only have 1 chance to get it right. The Irishman has been an absolute star with this whole process, helping me fill in the form, searching the web for immigration message boards to answer the questions, reading my form and generally being really supportive. It's actually making me feel pretty guilty as my immigration issues are ruining not only the trip we had planned next weekend, but also grounding any travel for the foreseeable future: my passport goes with the application so I'm bound to the UK until I get it back. We'll be doing lots of staycations and local travel by train, so if anyone has any good suggestions of places to go on the mainland - let me know!

Spring has sprung in London!

Crocuses are blooming, the sun has been out for like 5 days straight, and I'm back on the bike! The Irishman bought me lights for my lovely wreck for Christmas, so I coerced him to zip-tie them to the frame on Sunday and it's been pedal power ever since.

Apparently the prolonged winter that we've experienced her has affected not only everyone's mood; the BBC and newspapers have been sounding the alarm that there is a daffodil shortage! But even worse, a Shamrock shortage in Ireland is causing widespread panic as fake shamrocks are replacing the real thing due to the shortage!!! Clearly, the winter has had some dire effects.

Personally, I'm thrilled about the sun, the quickly lengthening days (sunrise is at 6am and sunset is at 6pm!), and the increase in buzz on the high streets in the park. My only issue though is that so many of my friends are pregnant and due soon, which means that I have a LOT of knitting to do. Knitting is an inside sport, though, and I want to be outside! I'm going to really have to buckle down on rainy days to get my gifts done!

Snow update from London

No doubt you've seen this NASA photo of a completely snow-covered UK. Well let me point out the swirling cloud in the lower righthand corner - that would be the gigantic cloud that has been sitting over central London for the last week and NOT DELIVERING ANY SNOW. While there are feet of snow all over the outlying counties and London suburbs, Old Smoke hasn't got an inch on the ground. We've mostly had dustings that iced over on the sidewalks, but the roads are clear and there isn't much loveliness. Earlier in the week, it snowed all day but didn't stick until 3pm and then it stopped at 4pm. Hmph. I've been really wanting to be snowed in, "working from home" with a pot of coffee and my duvet, but since I walk to work there really is no excuse for me not to make it into the office. Lots of colleagues who live in the country have suffered being power outages, train lines disruptions, road salt shortages, and other winter worries; my biggest issue has been that it's been so bloody cold I haven't been able to start my half marathon training. Beyond the icy sidewalks, temperatures plunged below freezing right after New Years and haven't budged. I've been sporting a hat and fox-fur earmuffs simultaneously, much to the Irishman's embarrassed despair, and I've been wearing snowboots everywhere for at least a week. It's all getting a bit tired. I mean, why bother with all this if I'm not going to at least see a lovely blanket of white out my window when I wake up; I want to crunch through some snow while I lose sensation in my extremities!