Neighbourliness; Eastern artefacts; claw-clipping

Quite excited by the news that Google Street View now apparently covers 95% of the country. Located the house; must be quite a recent photo judging by the state of the jasmine on the front wall (as of this winter’s snow, a bit brown and shrivelled-looking). This Telegraph piece fulminates that GSV is 'a service for burglars', although doesn't explain quite how this is the case, given that the images don't show any more than one could see simply by standing in the street in question. (It also sounds like the 'research' in question took the form of a straw poll of a group of people who were given the option of ticking a box beside 'I think Google Street View is a service for burglars'.)

Have resolved to try and improve recollection for faces – have quite a good memory for names but less so for the faces of people I have met only briefly. Wandered innocently out of my back door on Saturday to be greeted by a paunchy man halfway up a ladder looking at next door’s guttering. Turns out he is a neighbour from a few doors down whom I think I have said hello to once, though I know Ray used to exchange manly pleasantries with him occasionally. Asked where “my man” was and seemed almost unwilling to accept the ensuing brief explanation, launching into a detailed physical description of Ray, perhaps imagining that I had a number of men and might be thinking of the wrong chap. I think we parted on reasonable terms. According to our friendly neighbour Judith he has offered to obtain a part for the broken guttering, so I guess that’s helpful.


Ruth and I went up to London on Sunday meaning to have a look round the V&A – slow start due to train delays and the closure of the Circle Line meant that we had to walk from Paddington across Hyde Park to the museum, stopping en route for a quick look at ‘Isis’. As Ruth claimed that the apparently insubstantial pastries we had eaten first thing were insufficient to carry her through a session of museuming, we nipped into an Italian restaurant on Brompton Road that was advertising itself as doing breakfasts. Turned out to be a bit of a little gem – charmingly kitschy with a lion’s-head fountain in the entrance and multiple curtains downstairs, but had an excellent brunch of bresaola and poached eggs with strong black coffee.

Had a pleasant amble around the museum including the new Jameel Gallery to indulge Ruth's interest in the Middle East, and I always like a quick butchers at the Buddhas (and Bodhisattvas, and Hindu doo-das). After a few hours in the museum, we ended the day with a drink in The Prince of Wales on Kensington Church Street and a foray into the Whole Foods Market on the ground floor of the Barkers building, where we bought a large piece of rib-eye steak, some bakery goods and some ginger sweetmeats for Ruth’s mother.

Still think the demise (and, indeed, demolition) of Kensington Market is a shame – I still have a boxy black jacket that I purchased there on one of several visits when much younger. Don’t wear it often these days as the shoulder pads make it look not-quite-up-to-the-minute, but I’m waiting for them to come back in. The market closed in 2000 (lamented here) after 30 years of trading.

My father reminded me on the phone on Sunday evening that he used to lunch in the V&A restaurant at a discount when he worked for the Geological Survey in the 1960s and 70s. Nice.

On Tuesday evening this week Ruth decided that it was high time the rabbits’ claws were clipped - rabbits' claws grow continually and domestic rabbits’ claws don’t get worn down enough on their own. The exercise went off semi-successfully, as the claws were indeed clipped, although by the end of the exercise Ruth was covered in a thick layer of bunny fur and bleeding in three places. Surprisingly, Harley was more difficult to manage, turning into a little fidgety ball and lashing out with his feet (hence the wounds). Big Lola proved a bit easier, strangely, and even remained on Ruth’s lap afterwards and allowed herself to be groomed, though they did seem to be having a bit of a face-off at one point (see right). There's an amusing article here on clipping bunny claws which we may take some tips from next time.

Spent a pleasant evening last night swaying and jigging along with Björn Again at The Hexagon, along with a packed house of people ranging in age from about 7 to 77. The act included all the obvious songs plus a couple I wasn't expecting. I was surprised at the inclusion of When All Is Said And Done, an album track from Abba's best album The Visitors, but a quick bit of desk research today reveals that it was used on the Mamma Mia! soundtrack (have not yet seen MM). I could have done without the brief segue into Bon Jovi in the second half, although a gaggle of women behind me, who all seemed to fancy the long-haired bass player, evidently enjoyed it.