LONDON. The Rabbit is part of It.

I sat sipping coffee (too quickly, Jacqui! B. Landau, 2008) as I sought refuge under the canvas sail from a fine display of British weather. As others huddled in multipacks of handbags, dripping umbrellas, pressed collars, carefully worn new woollen knits and the odd solo gortex warrior, we were at once in unison and alone.
A connection was made over muesli bars and a little warmth began to seep from the humming group of 4.
Oh! the weather! Yes, but you may want to save that for dessert! Day release tickets- I'm not sure? We came here last month and it was also very good. The rabbit is part of it, too. They just turned it upside down!
Strangers were united under a reckless sky, which gave way to sunshine tipping a mass exodus.
Before they left, they gave me some sound advice and a Royal Academy of Art friends-of-members-go-free entry to the Summer Series.

My sleep was almost non-existent. A rickety bunk and a swearing Brazilian. The lack of any tourist information whatsoever at the dirties hostel I've seen- with the grand exclusion to that void of Madame Toussaudes's- I spent the morning hours riding the underground, watching the Tower of London bridge yawn open and closed, and then texting McBetts for directions and advice. Big Ben loomed in the foreground as a grey shade of wet enveloped much of the city. Squares and circuses and men petrified in the heat of battle then strung up to count lorries.
The Tate Modern was very good. The two exhibits at the moment are very different and inspiring in their own way- voyeurism, surveillance and a bit of sexy bits, a great photographic exhibit; mixed media and thought provoking middle-east based politics/poetry.
China Town dinner with an unexpected and much appreciated cameo from none other than the middle Quirk. It's a long way from Eagle Boys days...