tuesday was grabbed by its horns

It is common knowledge among friends, that if i blog, it just means, its because im not supposed to. Its either im in the middle of researching a heavy university work, im supposed to be working, tidying the house or in tonight's case, packing.

So what's new? Its too late to change a habit of a lifetime. And the urge to do the exact thing you're not suppose to, just makes its all the more tempting.


Maybe because im quite controlled with some things, that i am not able to control such urges. I am able to control 'bitch' tendencies, i am able to switch off my natural born mean instinct, and im able to let things slide most of the time, and my pain and 'suffering'/abuse tolerance is quite high, that controlling hunger and temptation to stray from the time schedule is quite difficult. no one's perfect after all. (haha). ( although, my family might argue that i could not control any of the above either,LOL).


So here i am again,at the mercy of time, and at the behest of my baser instinct that i blog about the tuesday that happened we rediscovered corners we used to ignore for such time.


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although Adrian and i have been going to and fro Euston station, we never sat down in one of those benches where people buy their sandwhiches and sit there waiting for their train times.

it was around 1 pm. I needed to get some photographic supplies needed for the India trip at Calumet (camera shop), that i thought we need to have some snack at the station as well as enjoy the mild breeze under cloudy skies.


he had a new yorker sandwhich while i had my sushi box. we sat there, mesmerised by the crowd who were deep into their food, their conversation or their company. adrian and i people watched and we passed commentaries and made up stories about each person that caught our eye. one looked like she was going on a festival somewhere, what with her wellies and guitar and a big rucksack. a group looked(sounded) like a touring Northerner's bridge group. just so.. and one lady looked like she was travelling with her grandchildren, on a day trip to London from far away Coventry. or Devon. the accent wasn't clear enough.





time passes by quickly around these corners of Euston when you get wrapped up by your own made-up stories. people of different age, size, colour and bravado (agh, you wouldnt believe the fashion eclecticism of travellers, from the wellington boots to the grungey goth) just catch your attention and make you want to know where their journey for the day is.







this part was a street just off the camera shop of Calumet. I asked him to do a pose for me. I loved that wall. it makes a beautiful backdrop to any shoot, methinks. he refused to do the pose for me. "absurd!' he wailed in horror! i pleaded, yet he was non-compliant. and i thought he loved me. i thought when you love someone, you would do any pose for them (including pretending to do a wee on the wall pose). but he said he draws the line on "self incriminating poses like that".

were still talking, thank God.



So we moved from Euston to go to Covent Garden. It was starting to rain a bit. It was a toss between being in Oxford Circus and Covent garden. The allure of the ex-apple market's square won over the the hustle and bustle of Oxford Circus. The deciding factor? Drawn by the question: Where did we want to eat dinner tonight?

We decided, we missed having a real cosy Italian goodness made by a man called Mario by a quaint restaurant near Drury Lane. .

to Covent Garden we went.





Adrian scrutinised the display window of one store. No, its not a museum. Its a window display by the high street retailer Cos. After I "ooh'ed and aahh'ed" at the simple yet powerful display of photography in the store's window, i took his photo while he examined the visual display, mentally declaring how inferior they were to mine. He is biased of course. First: he is my husband and secondly, he doesnt know much about photography, so i let him think that. A little ego boost from the husband is a welcome treat. Always.






Looking for Louie Spence.

Passing by nooks and crannies of Covent Garden, we passed by the Pineapple Studio. There is a show here in the UK which features Pineapple dance Studio, a school for dance and performance,its students, and staff. its main attraction is the school's gayer-than-life-itself director Louie Spence. He is such a funny and dramatic character of the show that the show wouldn't probably be a hit without him.

Also, i had to take this photo to show my sister. She and i had a classmate at Make up class who was featured in the show as she is/was a student at Pineapple too.

There was one part of the studio which can be seen from the street as the side wall is made of glass. Adrian and i looked. But only for a bit. Seeing sweaty people dance sans the music was a depressing way to pass by an afternoon.






I dragged Adrian to Charles Fox. Its a theatre and film make-up artists haven. It sells Kryolan, Ben Nye and Illamasqua brands. I have always wanted to get the most sought after 81460/31 Charles Fox brush. Everytime Ana and i went there, they were out of stock. Today, they had two left. I got mine! The other one was slightly frayed, so i pre ordered one for the sis.


Adrian was starting to get fascinated about the magic of the shop when we were inside. There were make up artists who were buying for their trade, and there was an Australian stage clown who was buying the make up for his job.

No one knows much about Charles Fox as a make up haven but thank goodness for going to make up school (or having had one to one sessions with a trainer), we were given suggestions on "where" and "what" to get, which the magazines do not tell you. Charles Fox. No one would even notice the shop as its in a much secluded area opposite to the square. And when you get in, the shop assistant will ask for your card, so you can get a trade's discount.







so we decided the next stop would be coffee/tea. and as it was raining harder this time, it was the best time to do so. we went inside the nearest coffee shop we could find.

he was munching on caramel fudge to go with his tea here. I told him to stop munching when im taking pictures, he laughed instead.







so, we got tempted going by Penhaligon's. I was telling Adrian that the best aftershave he ever had was the Penhaligon one he was given by his son, two christmasses ago. It was my ploy to get a refill on the Amarinthe cologne for me. we got in, the Manager was busy shuffling people about. we were unsuccessful on both accounts. the aftershave was sold as a set, and a Amarinthe was out of stock, but would i "care for the latest fragrance instead?" according to the manager? I wasnt prepared to scrutinise twenty other scents for testing, not when my sinuses have not fully recovered from the recent cold i got. I didnt want to go home with an expensive bottle of scent that will be just stowed in the cabinet because it smelled differently than i initially thought.





we went back to the square to browse and get more products and toiletries for the trip.






rows and rows of shops line the square. it was a busy afternoon as the drizzle kept on, people used the square for shelter.





after doing all our list, we ended up waiting for time, and there were so much to see during the wait. there were classically trained atists who were delighting the square to its music. they were talented and had presence. i wished in my mind, they should have been given a break for their talent. they were busking to get a few quid. their playing and the capacity to regale a wide variety of audience to a classical concert was more than just a few pounds worth.

just one of those things you dont take for granted. that in the arts, not everyone who deserves it, gets their 'big break'.






i said, he looked good holding my shopping,haha. he said he looks good nevertheless. now that's confidence for you.






and this time, this was his turn to shop. he needed to get a 4cup-tea pot to add to our growing teapot collection. he constantly moans about the lack of smaller teapot at home, as we have an 8-10 cup teapots. this day, he decided, enough is enough. he needed a teapot of his own choice, by cupsizes and colour. i pleaded no contest. we also got some great tea leaves for him and travelling teabags for our trip. and because of that, it deserved that photo,haha.





Adrian always tells me stories about his childhood and his parents. He always tells me a story about his mum, having worked at a Sweet shoppe/ candy store when his father decided to leave the military and retrained to become a vicar. Adrian said this store reminded him of the store where his mum worked. It was also deserving of a photo.



***

we ended back to Drury Lane for a dinner at an italian restaurant just across the theatre where they play "Oliver".

our conversations were peppered with stories we wanted repeated about the day, commentaries about events that transpired from the day's shopping trip, and a little whine from me how expensive a 32-GB sandisk card is, and how lovely the meal we were having at the very moment.

we talked about having ended up buying a £15 umbrella, considering it was sunshiny when we left the house, and how the tube that day seemed overly-crowded, and how sombre the mood is in the restaurant and how especially nice the proscuitto de parma en melone was that night.


above all, we were grateful. that we both have each other.