[continued from previous entry]
A large part of the lake had landed on a long carpet runner that extended to the doorway that gave off from the dining room to the driveway. I didn't even attempt to clean that up, just grabbed it, tossed it outside, concentrating on the dining room carpet. At some point, weary from poop sponging, I picked up a phone, called Dermot at work, let him know how things were going on the home front. He said he'd be back shortly, I returned to the task at hand, doing what I could until he appeared, grabbed a container of bleach from under the kitchen sink and took over.
Oh, the excitement.
Saf was on probation with me for the next 24 hours or so.
Next day: a field trip to Liverpool. Just Dermot and myself, him piloting the car northwest, English countryside sliding past, dramatic skies above. An hour along, the highway gained elevation, and there were the city's outskirts all around, old brick urban homes as far as the eye could see. The way into the center passed through neighborhoods of various kinds, including some still enduring hard, hard times, many buildings boarded up, streets nearly empty of life apart from cars passing quickly through. And then we were into the center, a whole different scene. Big, lovely old buildings, Saturday afternoon traffic, crowds of pedestrians moving along sidewalks alight with early winter sunlight.
Lots of walking, soaking up midland accents, watching swirling rivers of people out shopping, walking. And in the middle of it all, a small Christmas market in Queen Square-- a few rows of stalls doing good business (vending tchotchkes, crafts, some clothing, and food, food, food -- baked goods, foreign fare, sausages), a ferris wheel looming over it all.
A quick visit to the waterfront -- the area inundated by teenagers, conversation and laughter in the air -- brief stops in shops and museums, a long immersion in stores and a mall or two, all crowded with locals. And once early darkness fell, a return to the Christmas market so Himself could get a crepe for the road. And back to Newcastle for dinner and a sit-down in front of the telly.
[continued in next entry]
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Model railroad aficionado -- Birmingham, 12/3/06:
España, te quiero.
rws 8:10 AM [+]
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