I still haven't quite got the hang of getting dressed. I'm still an Angeleno. I wear t-shirts. That's what I wear. If it's cold, I wear a coat over my t-shirt. If it's really, really cold, I don't go out.
My friend Attack Cat, now that guy knows how to dress. He wears layers. I've never understood how to do layers. When I do layers, it's a jacket over a t-shirt, over a hoodie, over another t-shirt, over a sports jacket, over a turtleneck. Sometimes I'll wear a jaunty hat too. With perhaps a yarmulke under it or a long nightcap like Scrooge would wear.
No, I've never been able to figure out layers.
Winter will be here next week. The shortest day of the year. At these northern, vampire-friendly latitudes, you get about - as I recall - 55 minutes of daylight on the first day of winter. And that is some extremely cold daylight too. With rain and sleet and snow and freezing wind. Exposed skin will shatter instantly. And ships will be crushed by the incoming ice floes. Or is that spelled "floze"?
Long ago, veterans of the Roman legions used to retire to Britain - for the climate. Which I think tells us a lot about Europeans. In the USA, you retire to Florida or Arizona - for the climate. But in Europe, it's Britain.
Maybe Britain was warmer in 100 A.D.
Of course, they were giving away land for cheap too, so that was a big incentive. Retire from the Roman army, get a cottage with spectacular Thames views for no money down.
I guess what I'm trying to say, is that, even though it's the 21st century, I'm having trouble staying warm. While taking the above photograph, I literally froze my ass off (ironically the real tissue damage happens not during freezing, but when the ass begins to thaw).
But it did make for some good pictures.
Last month I took a trip to Canterbury to haunt the University of Kent with some friends - fellow alumni of that windswept institution. From the train, at Rochester and Faversham, and Sittingbourne and Gillingham, many sights can be seen.
We spend a lot of time waiting, we spend a lot of time between here and there.
Spring in Ealing brings out many little critters - including the squad of tiny lithe brand new squirrels in our back garden and this mini-flotilla of ducklings at Walpole Park.