London (and An Early Sign I May Be Joining the Ranks of The Olds)

So we spent last weekend in London. We caught Death Cab for Cutie, wandered around a bit and popped into some shops.  It's one of Husband's favorite cities and I'd never been. 

I don't know exactly what I was expecting, maybe an English New York, but this wasn't it.  Sure it was a bit sprawling city and packed with millions of people---many of whom wanted to stand directly in front of me---but it wasn't New York-ish.  

And that is neither negative nor positive, it just is.  And perhaps, if anything, it's indicative of my own lack of experience that it even crossed my mind that it would be similiar. 

But in any case, it was vibrant and in motion, and we had loads of fun.  

Of course the requisite shot of us.  We're waiting for Death Cab to start.

The opening act was a band from Belgium called Styrofoam: two guys, one girl and an electronic beat machine, so the three made enough noise for a crowd.  And they were enthusiastic, too. Good stuff.  Check it out. 

Then Death Cab for Cutie came out.  Death Cab is one of those bands that I really think is worlds better live than recorded (and I think the recorded is pretty dang good.) The band members always seem totally practiced on their parts, but also seem fresh and thrilled to be performing them.  No matter how many times they've played any particular song, it doesn't seem to get old.  And, Ben Gibbard's delivery of the lyrics is always crisp and fantastic.  It was a great show, even though we were in the "must stay seated or we'll crab at you in a completely pleasing British accent if you don't" section.

Yep, you just saw this ponytail a few photos ago.  This was in much of my view for the whole concert.  I don't mean to be thick or unfashionable, but I just don't understand it.  In the dark ages, when I was growing up, the point of a ponytail was two-fold: a method to keep hair out of your eyes and secondly, to possibly disguise the fact that said hair kept of the eyes was dirty. Occasionally some hair would slip out the elastic and I would either tuck it away or find a pin to hold it back.  If I could not tuck it away or pin it up, it would bug me for hours as I blew it out of the way constantly.  This ponytail mystifies me. It doesn't keep the hair out of her eyes. She apparently doesn't care if it is hanging in her face.  And the hair seems to be clean.  So it leads me to think that it may be fashion.  I still don't get it. This may be one of the first signs I am on my way to being one of the Olds.


Brixton Academy was a great venue.  Go see a band there if you get a chance. 

The next day, we began with a Starbucks and a subway ride.  If you do not know the happiness of this moment, you are obviously not an ex-New Yorker who lives in Stavanger, Norway. 

We spent the afternoon at the Tate Modern.  It was fabulous on every single count except for this Ginger Beer drink Husband ordered when we had lunch in the cafe.

I was constantly confused about the time. 

We stopped by to see if Wills was home. 

We took a pedicab ride. I've always thought they were a little silly and perhaps mean to the driver...Silly for all the obviously reasons...Mean, mainly because I think it would be somewhat hell-ish to pedal dragging a cart around filled with people.  Not this guy. He was jazzed.  (Yes, his tee-shirt says "Bite Me. I'm a Vet Tech.")  And as for silly, it absolutely was, but it made me laugh almost the entire ride.  Now I would like one of my own.  Not to drive, but to ride in all day long.  Husband was amused as well, but spent some time making sure he knew where we were. 

Then after more eating and a little shopping, it was time to catch to train back to Heathrow.