Monday's Moments

August 15, 2011

The accumulation of sleepless nights catching up to us now… M and Alpha are getting accustomed to morning coffee – a new phenomenon to the Flat (coffee usually being reserved for a mid-afternoon jolt for Alpha’s PhD writing days).

But we made it before too long to Somerset House where we toured the Courtauld Gallery and Somerset House grounds, with a snack from Tom’s (Mike’s ??:-)) Deli in the sunny courtyard.

We were tired and had little time for tourists as we walked through Covent Garden, but we always seem to have that little bit of energy left for shoes and shoes… and food. Belgo Monday Mussel Madness diverted us from our path of fatigue and two hours later we emerged from the basement restaurant after devouring an impressive amount of delicious mussels.

Omega was so tired and restless on the bus ride home that we jumped-bus and had a beautiful walk (albeit in rain) eventually via Colombia road and Old Bethnal Green Rd. The perfect London neighbourhood to call home.

Once home, after some relief from listening to Little Mermaid, with yogurt listening live to the BBC Proms, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Life is funny, or as Alpha was saying a few days earlier, life is a black comedy: funny as much as sad, tragic as much as simple and sweet.

At the Courtauld Gallery at the Somerset House, their exhibit on Falling Up The Gravity of Art, which we saw today quoted T.S. Eliot (Burnt Norton):

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

Vouvray 2008 helped us finish off our night in true vacation style… only we are still dreaming of hot summer weather (Omega is refusing to go swimming anywhere in London, we suspect this is because it feels like cold spring rather than the heart of summer… oh how we do miss our sun-kissed suntans!)