To begin, having had several disappointing cups of coffee yesterday at local London joints, I painstaking search more that a square mile of the West End to find an acceptable latte.
After much examination, I discover the haute couture of lattes (beautiful, but also very good) at Caffe Vergnano 1882 on Charing Cross Rd. As witness:
::sigh:: Coffee...Even more bizarre than it's extreme attractiveness, my Latte is made using an "Elektra Belle Epoque", an obsessively crafted handmade Italian espresso machine, which, as Giles Correa says in the review on their wall, looks for all the world "...like Flash Gordon must have crash-landed it here."
As you can see, what he says is true:
As you can see, what he says is true:
Freaky, huh?Personally, I think it looks disturbingly like R2-D2 and C-3P0 had a baby. Yeesh.
Anyhow, later in the day I find even better espresso nearby on Monmouth Street, in a charming little place that roasts their own beans in the back. I get it to go, in a small, unassuming white cup, but it's quality of taste is absolutely as good as "Julie's" back home. For £1.70.
So, I proudly present "The-Best-Coffee-Shop-I-Have-Found-So-Far-In-England".
Freakin' CuteAlthough part of my smitten-ness with Monmouth Coffee Company may be their choice of window dressing.
What he has to do with coffee I have no idea, but he certainly gives the place character.Then I proceed to walk from Picadilly all the way to the London Eye, gawking at everything and taking a bazillion photographs, but as the light is very poor, nearly all of them are hopelessly out of focus. But a few look okay:
Bob, can you make my windows look like this? Please?
Looking up while standing on a random street corner, a typical view.
It's just so weird. Basically NOTHING is ugly. What is that about?
They have whole wacky little bridges just for pedestrians. I heart the English!I check out the the scene at the London Eye but decide it is just not the sort of thing one does alone. (Ruth? Whaddaya think?) So, I have a quick bite at Yo! Sushi just as a test (utter failure, there was not one person working there who was not caucasian, and the fish was downright rubbery) and hop a bright red, double-decker bus (that takes an Oyster card ::squeal::) back to Victoria. At Victoria I merely stroll across the platform and board a waiting train to take me back to ye olde Faversham.
Originally, the plan was that Helen and I were to have a Primer Party at her newly plastered house, but on my return to Sarah's I discover there has been a Change Of Plans. To Simon & Helen's mid-remodel abode we will go, but several of Helen's friends are coming in from London so, instead of covering ourselves in paint, we will fill ourselves with wine, food & conversation. Beter and better!
I arrive last, and am introduced to Rose, Zoe and Dave, whereupon we eat decadent chicken fajitas, courtesy Helen. The fajitas are decidedly the best meal I've had thus far (and I've not eaten badly at all), they have this amazing mushroom-and-onion-marinated-chicken-filling a la Helen which is simply divine.
Helen, Simon and their friends are wonderfully entertaining and are terribly patient with my frequent failure to understand their accents. We discuss and compare jobs (Rose is in Neuroscience, awesome), Politics (Simon thinks America really needs Obama at the wheel...Weg: you must really come meet Simon one of these days) and cooking (Zoe made Helen a fabulous & chic looking birthday cake!). Wait. Wait. We're celebrating Helen's birthday???!!! I don't even realize whose birthday it is until they sing her name. Oh the shame. I AM THE ONLY ONE WITHOUT A PRESENT! I really need to pay better attention. And send her something nice from California when I'm home. Good God.
As Helen has recently become a homeowner, her presents are imminently practical, even amusingly so. When she says, "O excellent! It's a peg caddy" I am utterly flummoxed. What on earth? Ah...I see...it is an elegantly perforated, small, plastic bin to keep clothespins in, and it comes with a large number of matching plastic clothespins. Not that there is anything wrong with this gift, I also could not possibly have made it up.
Eventually everyone heads homeward. Sarah's is so close that Helen, Simon and I walk home and are there in less than five minutes. Brilliant. A bed. I hereby collapse.
When I next have a moment: Tomorrow Sarah and Helen have the day off! Cool Stuff to do!!!!
Originally, the plan was that Helen and I were to have a Primer Party at her newly plastered house, but on my return to Sarah's I discover there has been a Change Of Plans. To Simon & Helen's mid-remodel abode we will go, but several of Helen's friends are coming in from London so, instead of covering ourselves in paint, we will fill ourselves with wine, food & conversation. Beter and better!
I arrive last, and am introduced to Rose, Zoe and Dave, whereupon we eat decadent chicken fajitas, courtesy Helen. The fajitas are decidedly the best meal I've had thus far (and I've not eaten badly at all), they have this amazing mushroom-and-onion-marinated-chicken-filling a la Helen which is simply divine.
Helen, Simon and their friends are wonderfully entertaining and are terribly patient with my frequent failure to understand their accents. We discuss and compare jobs (Rose is in Neuroscience, awesome), Politics (Simon thinks America really needs Obama at the wheel...Weg: you must really come meet Simon one of these days) and cooking (Zoe made Helen a fabulous & chic looking birthday cake!). Wait. Wait. We're celebrating Helen's birthday???!!! I don't even realize whose birthday it is until they sing her name. Oh the shame. I AM THE ONLY ONE WITHOUT A PRESENT! I really need to pay better attention. And send her something nice from California when I'm home. Good God.
As Helen has recently become a homeowner, her presents are imminently practical, even amusingly so. When she says, "O excellent! It's a peg caddy" I am utterly flummoxed. What on earth? Ah...I see...it is an elegantly perforated, small, plastic bin to keep clothespins in, and it comes with a large number of matching plastic clothespins. Not that there is anything wrong with this gift, I also could not possibly have made it up.
Eventually everyone heads homeward. Sarah's is so close that Helen, Simon and I walk home and are there in less than five minutes. Brilliant. A bed. I hereby collapse.
When I next have a moment: Tomorrow Sarah and Helen have the day off! Cool Stuff to do!!!!
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