Judie and I decided to go lunch the other day at Spitalfields market. Since we decided to go where we could actually sit down, rather than eat the street food and try to find a place on a bench, we discovered that it was already “Holiday Lunch Season”. There were a number of large parties celebrating the season, probably from the many offices in Broadgate Centre and the other nearby towers. See the photo below of one such group. Christmas crackers and the accompanying silly paper hats are a big thing here and a number of the revelers in the restaurant were snapping their crackers (the first snap makes you turn your head, but after that it becomes background noise) and putting on the paper crowns. It seems to be a universal custom here, while in America, you rarely see it (although it became a Christmas custom for us after we lived in Sydney). You can get cheap crackers at Tescos and seemingly everywhere else. They come in a mind numbing range of prices and sizes. (I do wonder if the crackers on Brick Lane are any different.) And you can spend a small fortune on crackers at Harrod’s of at Fortnum and Mason’s.

Fickle Finger Follow-up: While we were having that lunch, I got a call on my mobile. (Practically no one but Judie ever calls me, so it is always a surprise.) The conversation went as follows: “Hello.” “Can I speak to Nick Lewis?” “Speaking.” “This is Royal Hospital. Your surgeon would like you to come in tomorrow.” “What for?” “Um. Well.” “I’ve already got an appointment with a GP to get the dressing changed.” “But this is for your surgery.” “I had the surgery last Friday.” “You did?” “Yes. I can’t recall the surgeon’s name.” Long pause. “Ah…. Yes. I will take you off the waiting list. Please ignore this call. Goodbye.” A call that was both amusing a little frightening. People must get lost on these waiting lists. If I hadn’t called the scheduling clerk last week to see when I was going to be treated, I clearly could have been in that boat.

I finished another painting today (with the usual caveat that I am never sure if anything is really finished–that tree still bothers me). This one was based on a portion of a painting that we saw at Musee D’Orsay, while we were in Paris. It was a Monet, but the subject was very un Monet-like. It was in interesting painting exercise, which demonstrated to me, unsurprisingly, just how hard it is to do what Monet did. I am actually not displeased with the result, although comparing it to Claude would only be embarrassing. Here it is: