Another Day in London

When you spend a day in London it is hard to predict what you'll see.

 Here are a few examples as Jen and I strolled around the city.

A rolling rally of support as a dozen bike riders with flags of someone who looked of Middle Eastern descent.  Jen thought they might be promoting the movie "Her" with pictures of Joaquin Phoenix.
I thought it looked like a young Omar Sharif.

       

Simply walking down the steps in the Tottenham Road Tube station was interesting.  The shabbily lit stairwell felt like we were walking inside a submarine.

In Soho we saw this woman (possibly man ... we just don't know) shooting a video in the middle of the street.

  

Couldn't get a good look at his/her Adam's apple.

I just Googled 'origin of Adam's apple.  Here is the result:

There are two conflicting explanations for the origin of the common name for the thyroidcartilage in men. Some people say that it is a reference to the fact that it looks like of like a chunk of apple stuck in the throat, so the name is linked with Adam's consumption of the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. Others say that it is a result of mistranslation from the Hebrewtappuach ha adam, which just means “male bump.” The second explanation is probably more likely; many such malapropisms from Greek, Hebrew, and Latin can be found in modern English.

I spent 45 minutes in Green Park doing what I do, while Jen did what she does (cigar for me, books for her for any new readers).

It's always nice to see couples in love.  Happy Dave, you two.

(Jen and I named the Day After Valentines - Dave ... day after valentines ... get it?)

Girls eating baps.

 Hanging out at a Soho tattoo parlor.  Just because.

                 

 

 Nervously awaiting their turn with the artist and his hurtful pen.

 Taking in a photo art exhibit we read about on Time Out London, our source for, well, London.

There were two photos of Ricky Gervais.  Both creepy.  Both had the theme of a clown with a gun.  Both sold for £5,000.  Not to us, in case you were worried.

Pushing the definition of 'art' to the extreme.  I never liked Richie Rich.  Why the bullies didn't just beat him up and take his bag full of cash, I don't know.

 

Lunch in Marylebone.  It was a tad crowded, but somehow in London you don't care that your personal space is being stepped on.

We found these two in the tube station.  Caroline and Geraldine just arrived to London today.  What are the odds that we'd run into them?  

I'd say the odds are always good to find something unexpected when you are in London.

(That last sentence was my ham fisted attempt to tie up this blog in one poignant thought.  This is the result when you give a writing neophyte his own blog.  The good news is you don't have to pay for this   schlock).