I have this uncontrollable urge to patch a dog when I see one. I saw one this morning, it was my neighbour’s dog. I had never met him nor his dog before, but his dog was too cute not to patch. He was an older man, grey hair, a kind of older version of B., he even had the same glasses. Rather funky for a man his age. He started talking about his dog, how his dog had just returned from hospital because it had stomach problems after it had eaten something from the street. How he had shampooed his dog after that, because the dog smelled of hospital. And how his dog now was fluffy and healthy again. In the mean time this fluffy and healthy and lovely dog had laid comfortably down on the pavement, enjoying to be touched and muffled and waiting for his boss to finish talking and take him for a walk.
In Cafe Paul (patisserie) in South Kensington I drank the world’s best hot chocolate. If you like your hot chocolate you want to go there. Their hot chocolate tastes like they have melted a chocolate bar and put it in a cup, it’s heaven. (lots of calories too, but hey)
In the bookshop on Charing Cross Rd I tried to find a book with a title like “How to make a short film without losing your mind and getting a nervous breakdown”. I didn’t find it, and haven’t seen my mind since.
Sherrybaby was fantastic (9/10). Well done for a first time female feature director.
I still don’t mind the rain and there is a lot of in London it lately. I admit that I sometimes think unkind words about all the tourists flooding the city, blocking stairs in the underground because they can’t decide which way to go (fine but find a better place to stand!). But I feel sorry for them when it comes to the weather. I waited about an hour in the rain for my bus. A man and his family came up to me to ask how they could get to Piccadilly Circus.
I wanted to tell him that Piccadilly Circus is a rather depressing place in the rain and the dark but I couldn’t come up with a better alternative for them to go to, so I didn’t tell him that.
Now I am going to open the door in my floor which will bring me to a place where I can’t get out of before I have finished certain things. That’s mainly because Davy then puts his chair on this door and doesn’t leave me out before I can show him that I have done the writing I need to do. This time that is a last scene in my script. When that’s done I beam Slarti and will be off into space for a while. I don’t know when I will be back.
3 thoughts to “Slices of life”
Dear Ingrid, the next time I visit London I will demand to taste some of that heavenly hot chocolate! And you seem to have made a very nice furry acquaintance in the neighbourhood, that sounds great :) And I think I may want to borrow Davy for him to make me finish my projects as well – now I know how you get so many great things done ;)
Did you hear the Picadilly Cafe closes soon after over 50 years ??
Yes, I ripped my heart out a month ago when I heard it. It’s in a locker, and I have a pirate guarding it. It is simply heart breaking.