Today was another beautiful sunny day in London and we spent the entire day inside getting ready for tomorrow. We were occasionally visited by other members of the team, who were out and about seeing sights, which just made it worse. The only nice thing that happened was that my boss walked in at one point and announced he had a present for me. He had been in Harrod's and got me a copy of a hard-to-find English horsie magazine that is devoted to only two subjects, foxhunting and eventing (my favorites!). It is fabulous. Everyone made fun of me because I kept trying to look at it instead of do trial preparation tasks. Oh well. I thought it was very thoughtful of my boss.
Speaking of which, people here are generally making fun of my horsie. So much so that one of our expert witnesses (first name Myron), who has since left us and gone back to the US, sent an email to me today that was entitled, "I Think Your Nice Horse Is Nice" and then the first line of the email itself was "Now that I have your attention . . . " Later he wrote me another email with the caption "Your Horse is Wonderful and My Football Team Won," which was also pretty funny because not only are people uninterested in my horsie, they were even less interested in Myron's football team (Tennessee Titans).
Speaking of Myron, he was a hit among the Brits. They pronounce his name like My Ron, as in Your Ron, or Their Ron, and they are unable to say "My Ron" except at top volume. "MY RON! Would you like some more tea? MY RON! You have a telephone call." Etc. We all collapsed in giggles every time it happened, which was often. MY RON is also bald and sort of rumpled looking and short, and very energetic and eager, so several times random English women would come up on the street and smack two wet ones on his bald head. MY RON thought that was a nice change from his native Tennessee.
The first night MY RON was here we all went to a restaurant in Mayfair called Langan's Brasserie, which is part-owned by Michael Caine. It serves normal food as well as bangers and mash (sausage links and mashed potatoes) and bubble and squeak (fried pureed potatoes and cabbage.) We had a lovely spacious round table upstairs, right in the back, out of the way of the hustle and bustle, we thought. Secluded, we thought. Reserved and dignified, we thought.
The only odd thing was there was a sort of spotlight right behind my head somehow and so my view of the table all evening was obstructed by a huge, bulbous shadow of my own head. Everywhere I turned there was a dark head-shaped blob blotting out all the light. It made reading the menu hard. I felt like an alien. Also, right next to my bulbous head was a vase of overpowering lilies. They made my woozy. I think they were special Sedating Lilies, strategically placed to mute conversation. MY RON noticed them too, and said, "wow."
As if the bulbous head and the Sedating Lilies didn't make it hard enough to follow the conversation (we travel as a group of anywhere from 6 to 10 people most of the time, so conversation is often hard to follow) at one point one of my contacts fell out of my huge bulbous head right onto the table in the middle of the bulbous shadow created by the bulbous head. I had to get up, turn face first into the weird spot light behind me, which temporarily blinded my only working eye, take a big gulp of the lily-infused air, and try to find the upstairs ladies room, arms outstretched. It was an exhausting meal.
Last night I read what my guide book has to say about Langan's. At first I thought the book must be right on because it says that the "beautiful, clever, rich and promising come here see and be seen." Those categories seemed to fit each of us, so…. But then it goes on to say that "[r]umor has it that famous people get the best seats and the lesser known get what they're given; of course, this is rigorously denied by the restaurant, but don't let them put you at a table upstairs." Hmmm.
But anyway, back to the original subject. I didn't see anything of the City today. I am still hoping to get into the Temple to see the Crusader tombs before I leave. And my colleagues' mission is to try to take a picture of Platform 9 and three quarters at Kings Cross Station for his Harry Potter-obsessed children. So we haveresolved to get out of the office in time tomorrow to do something fun.
posted by Anonymous @ 7:55 PM
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