I
wonder why the immortal umbrella hasn't been accepted to the British
ranks of national insignia by now... Glasses have some time in the late
20th century entered the realms of hip Prêt-à-porter catalogs of the
western world - the last 50 years seem unthinkable without everybody's
face being hidden by Ray-Bans... It's a mystery why the united hipsters
of London haven't established the umbrella as an iconic must-have of
even sunny days. Maybe that'd be too close to the not-so-hip sickly
panache of Gothics...Speaking of which... Having tea with a British MP in the atrium of Portcullis House (opposite of Big Ben - hence the impudent segue) is at the same time very entertaining, peaceful (as he's paying), surrealistic, and challenging (as he's not speaking very slowly, is he...). So, what seems to be a walk in the park (with some police with automatic rifles added to the mix) was also a high-speed dance (you don't know the music and the steps to) with an electrically charged Tory who constantly throws kitchen sinks at you.
I shall now take to some Brown Ale and let the evening run its course - after all: having repaired the fixture of the shower, what could go wrong?
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