Thanksgiving @ La Clique

Thanksgiving week was festive. Monday I had bookclub (via zoom), when we discussed Giver of the Stars. However it was my 5th zoom meeting of the day, so I was a bit screen weary. I've read three books recently: Olive Kitteridge, the aforementioned, and Midnight Library. I'm taking advantage of the long dark evenings to do something other than waste time on Facebook and chores.

Tuesday night was the Ulster Architectural Heritage Angel Awards, which I always thoroughly enjoy. There's something wonderful about people taking on unloved buildings and restoring them to their hey day. Wednesday was about getting my house in order before Thursday departure for London. Wednesday's accomplishment was:

1. registering NI direct account (requiring me to find a health care number I didn't know I had)
2. verifying said account by uploading photo of driver's license and of myself, using very fiddly camera program on NI direct site.
3. applying for COVID certificate, filling in dates and places of vaccines
4. downloading NI Covid certificate app onto phone
5. downloading COVID certificate into app (or uploading? I never know which).

This was a good two hours of my life I won't get back. Thursday, on to London. I took a 50-minute Piccaddilly line from Heathrow to Piccadilly Circus. Below is Thanksgiving dinner, eaten on the train. No complaints though because I was on a mission.

After a few false starts, I found my way to St. James's Park, then Horse Guards Road, then Birdcage Walk, then Cockpit Stairs to Old Queen's Gate to Dartmouth Street then Tothill Street and the Premier Inn. I hate to sound like an American tourist, but the walk was as quaint and veddy British as it sounds. I passed a group of tall young men in long red coats (horse guards?) having a loud party outside a pub with a hanging sign. It could have been 200 years ago. Walking down a dark alley and up Cockpit Stairs made me feel like a wench in Victorian England who could face Jack the Ripper at any moment. But it was right after that I came upon the party at the pub, so only briefly scary.

After I unloaded my bags in my tidy little room, I retraced my steps to Leicester Square, calling my mom on the way to wish her happy Thanksgiving. She's at my sister's, so her grandchildren could facilitate WhatsApp video. At the National Gallery, I showed her a giant ice cream cone topped with whipped cream, a cherry, a fly and a drone. Because, London. Here's Leicester Square.

I sent her photos of Paddington bear and Harry Potter statues to share with the kids (who aren't kids but fully fledged adults). The destination of my mission was the tent that houses La Clique, a circus cum cabaret cum comedy event. Two hours of VERY entertaining and talented people. Like Craig Reid, who is not only super talented but also very very funny.

He turns into a human slinky.

I was also very impressed by Mirko Köckenberger, who does amazing things with suitcases. And can undress to his knickers upside down on one hand. You don't see that every day. Also tension strap wizard LJ Marles, who is from Hackney.  He came out in thigh high boots with very high heels and proceeded to spin and twirl on the straps. I really felt like a kid watching all of these human marvels. Also a sword swaller--I find that a bit creepy. She also swallowed torches. Not a fan. Also a pair who roller skated in a variety of positions you don't associate with roller skating.

After the show I got a Belgian hot chocoate with whipped cream at the Christmas market, and man, am I in the spirit now! It was a cold walk back to the hotel so the hot chocolate was festive AND utilititarian. I called my Brooklyn buddies Joe and Carlos and we had a nice catch up. They are away to Paris for Christmas so I'm not sure when we'll see each other.

My Aunt Joan died today, leaving mom and Aunt Kathleen the two remaining of the 10 Caseys. I am incredibly grateful for mom's health, mental and physical. And for my own health. And the opportunities to travel and the privilege to indulge in carefree entertainment. My charitable giving focuses on refugees and I think often of the poverty of existence in a refugee camp, where there is so little hope or even vision of what lies ahead. And the many who take to the seas, either to die or to end up poorly treated in a country that doesn't want them. So I am thankful that my lot has been one of opportunities and good fortune, good friends, a fine, fine dog, I am no more deserving of this than the cold, hungry people caught between opposing soldiers on the Belarus/Polish border.  

Nov. 22-25