The enwoodening continues: buildings that previously showed shameless, naked, inviting panes of pristine glass to the street were covered up today.

Sometimes I think: all that flammable material, provided free of charge! Or is it inflammable? The same! So combustable and incombustable mean the same thing? Sigh no. Different prefixes. But you'd think we would settle on one

Almost ten blocks from downtown, on the drive home, I saw residential units putting up the plywood.

I think everyone expects a guilty verdict, but not guilty enough.

TV crews increased 10x on Monday. Heard foreign accents for the first time in a few weeks. Laughing, joking. In town for the show.

Ran into Tex - broadcast network security - outside the building; asked him if everyone’s eager for it to end so they can blow this town. Yes. Yes, they are. I said I hoped the next assignment was calmer and less fraught, like Ukraine.

“Actually, it is,” he said.

“You’re going to Ukraine next?”

“We are.”

I taught him the only Uke drinking song I know - perhaps it’s the only one there is; I don’t know how you could improve upon it - and he was grateful.  

As I said yesterday, I hope nothing happens tomorrow; I'm slated for the first vaccination, and unrest in Uptown would complicate things. Previously:

Did you get the stuff at the drug store?

No, I couldn't find parking. I'll go tomorrow.

Now: did you get the stuff at the drug store?

No, it was on fire.

I will not be posting pictures. Okay, maybe. But I regard thisas a thing to tick off, not the lock on the cell door rattling open. In my head I've been post-all-this for a long time.

I can't imagine having lived the last year with the same amount of doubt and suspicion we had last April.  That has to do something to a person, and so many millions have done it to themselves.










“My Fair Lady” popped up on the Netflix pane, so why not. When I was young I listened to a lot of soundtracks for movies I hadn’t seen, and so I memorized the songs before I ever saw the movie.

“Let A Woman in Your Life” - I said, out loud, at the proper point“BUT!” Ancient memory. Haven't heard it in decades, maybe. Where does this information sit in the brain? How can it be recalled with such ease and speed? Because we're amazing, I suppose. A machine could do it, but it wouldn't, because there's no reason, no need. Unless you need to fool a human.

That said, it seems strange today, for many reasons. 1. The idea that anyone would care so passionately about elocution, for one thing. I like it, but it such things are so passe. 2. The miserable character of Enery Iggins, his casual cruelty. I always thought we were supposed to be on his side. Now I think he is insufferable. 3. The alcoholic opportunism of Stanley Holloway, who gets away with it because he's charmin'-like, guv.

Some things I never noticed before: the Arts and Crafts wallpaper and interiors. The class tensions between Eliza and the help. The peculiar use of “I Could Have Danced All Night” at that juncture in the story; seems better for after the ball. But now I’m really wondering about someone who wanders through the story without anyone commenting upon him: Pickering.

He’s a linguist who had come to London to see 'Enery, bumps into him when he discovers Eliza, and thereupon becomes part of the domestic human furniture. No one ever seems to ask him for his ID. He’s just . . . Pickering! You know, Colonel Pickering. Does anyone vouch for his military credentials? No; he states them, and that is sufficient. Ah I see you were in India, old man. Well then.

Does it matter? It’s one great song after the other. Although I’m not fond of the fellow who does the “Street Where You Live” - a strong voice, but untroubled by personality or nuance.

( I had no idea who played him, and was surprised when I looked it up and realized it was Jeremy Brett. Did not compute; didn't recognize him at all, having the Sherlock character in my head. Odd how some people change, and others don't, but that's for later.




It’s 1922, and we're looking at English ads.

Sorry, adverts.

It would be better if the town was known as Chugwell.

Yes, it’s a real place.

Chigwell is a town and civil parish in the Epping Forest district of Essex, England. Adjacent to the northern boundary of Greater London, it is part of the metropolitan area of London and the Greater London Built-up Area. It is on the Central line of the London Underground.

Somehow that detracts from its appeal. But: here it is.

It’s now . . . Sheesh.

Having been famously immortalized by Charles Dickens novel ‘Barnaby Rudge’ as the Maypole Inn, Ye Olde Kings Head in Chigwell was built in 1547 and is the second oldest public house in England and certainly the most renowned.

Over the years this grade * listed building has welcomed some truly illustrious visitors from the likes of Dick Turpin, Winston Churchill to famous American and film directors such as Orson Welles, Marlon Brando and former state governor and veteran actor Arnold Schwarzenegger.

For many years the famous landmark building was the notorious watering hole of the London’s merchants and bankers who visited whilst staying at their Essex retreats. The building was also said to have operated as a covert meeting place for Roundheads during the English Civil War with an underground tunnel [which still exists today] connecting it to the 400-year-old St Mary’s Church opposite, which operated as an escape route.

My locals lack this quantity of history.

HA HA The other object is DYING

Google the company, and you get a legal case.

The plaintiff company engaged the defendants to design and install in their factory, an old mill, a pipe system to convey hot molten wax used in the production of Plasticine. The defendants unwisely chose to use plastic piping. Once installed, the defendants chose to initiate the new system at night, but without any supervision. The system had a faulty thermostat and molten wax overheated. The plastic pipes melted and the molten wax escaped and caught fire, causing a huge conflagration. By the morning, the entire factory was destroyed. This led to one of the biggest-ever claims for damages in England. The defendant sought to rely on a clause in the contract that purported to limit their liability for breach of contract.



You’ll find respect in places you previously never considered:


“Once tied, never comes undone.”

Quite the promise. You’d think they’d lead with that.


“Sir, don’t you think there’s a problem using the same molds and tins for our line of soap?”

“Can’t see how.”

Still around!

There’s a reason cliches arise.

It’s because they were true.

A service we don’t see anymore:

“Covered with our Defiance Union.” I’ve no idea.

Wait hold on didn’t everyone have electric lights by 1922

No, of course not. It took a while. As did this painstaking wikipedia entry about British electrification statutes.

As for Coleman, they’re still around, of course. There was a Mr. Coleman, and for a while, he was mayor of Wichita.

That will do today, I hope.




blog comments powered by Disqus