06.30 Athens

They're on the plane!!

Rexodus

Rex, the injured, stray puppy that we found on the streets of Lavrion last summer has started the first leg of his journey to Stoke Newington. This afternoon, Katherina, who has been looking after him all this time, drove him from her farm in the scruffy hills beyond Athens to the swanky, laminated floored, city apartment of the vet. I can picture him there now; the vet fussing over him and feeding him her dinner, pretending to scold him when he pisses on the rug, then kissing him goodnight before tucking him into bed for the very last night he will ever spend in Greece.
He will be enjoying all the attention, quite unaware that in the morning he will be loaded onto a plane at Athens airport and flown, along with six other rescue dogs, to Brussels. 
In the South of England, Mark and Chris from Friends of the Strays of Greece set off for Brussels. They are staying the night in a B & B near the airport, ready to meet the early flight carrying the dogs. In Belgium, after the dogs have stretched their legs they will be back in their cages and onto a van for the drive through France to Calais. Then comes the really scary bit. As they pass through Checkpoint Charlie, the dogs' paperwork is going to be SCRUTINISED before they're let into the UK and if it isn't absolutely PERFECT the consequences could be dire.

Not suitable for under 15s

When John was three we took him to see Tarzan (Walt Disney, certificate U). Five minutes into the film and we had to leave; he was frightened to death of the leopard (the one that tore both Tarzan's parents to pieces and was just about to tuck into baby Tarzan) and admits to still having nightmares about that leopard's tail causally flicking to and fro after the massacre.
Brian was relieved to escape the Phil Collins soundtrack and we put trips to the cinema on hold for a few years.


By the time John could handle the combination of terror and deafening surround sound, Joe couldn't. By the time Joe could, Ed couldn't. By the time Ed could sit through a film without his fingers in his ears and my scarf over his eyes, John had a girlfriend and preferred to go to the cinema with her.


There was a brief spell when Harry Potter appealed to all of them and John could be persuaded to come along too - not because he was into wizardry but because he was into Emma Watson in school uniform.


Since they've all become teenagers it hasn't got any easier, i.e. Ed wants to see Black Swan with his Italia Conti friends, while Joe wants to see Dude Where's My Car (two potheads wake up from a night of partying and can't remember where they parked their car - in case you haven't seem it). Both are cert. 15 making it illegal for them to see either in the cinema. They all enjoyed The Hangover on DVD. I didn't, but unselfishly agreed to take them to see Hangover 2 at Screen on the Green last week as a half term family treat. They have nice comfy sofas there and you can get a decent glass of wine. Might not be too unbearable. Bollocks, tits, fuck and wank! It's a certificate 15! I ring the cinema. 'Is there anyway I can bring my thirteen year-old if he's accompanied by both parents?' 'No, no you can't. It's strictly fifteen and over' followed by a 'what kind of mother are you?' silence.


I scout the Stoke Newington Literary Festival programme to see if there's anything not too demanding that might appeal to three teenage boys. Hmm... Exclusive screening of The Mask of the Red Death, a movie inspired by one-time Stoke Newington resident Edgar Allan Poe, 9.30 pm in the town hall... 'Don't be too suprised if there are some shadowy demons lurking  in the darkness.' Sounds fun, let's book it. Hang on... rated 15!!
(I'd like to insert the C word here several times but that would make this post certificate 18.)  


Here's a clip from The Mask of the Red Death - watch it if you dare!

Half Term, Day Five

Ed: Is he dreaming?
Me: I think so.


3 minutes later...
Ed: Is this bit a dream, or a dream within a dream?
Me: I'm not sure. Maybe just a dream.

3 minutes later...

Ed: Is this her dream, or his dream?

Me: I think it's his.

3 minutes later...
Ed: Is she dreaming or is this real?
Me: This bit's real, I think.


3 minutes later...
Ed: Hang on! Is she in his dream or is she dead?
Me: I think she's dead, but she might not be.


3 minutes later...
Ed: Is he dead?
Me: No, he's in Limbo?


3 minutes later...
Ed: What's Limbo?
Me: It's where you're floating between dead and alive.


3 minutes later...
Ed: Is she in, what's it called, Limbo?
Me: No she's in a dream.


3 minutes later...
Ed: Oh! I seeee. They're both dreaming but it's her dream and he's got into it. Is that it?
Me: Yeah, I think so.


3 minutes later...
Ed: Is this his dream - that one there, or HIS dream - that one there?
Me: That one's. Leonardo de what's 'is name's. 


3 minutes later...
Ed: Caprio
Me: Yeah.


3 minutes later...
Ed: How come he's suddenly got really old?
Me: It's a dream.


3 minutes later...
Ed: A dream? or a dream within a dream?
Me: It's a dream within a dream, within a dream.


3 minutes later... 
Ed: I don't get it.
Me: Neither do I.


3 minutes later...
Ed: I'm bored. I'm gunna watch Saw Vl
Me: Fine.

The Ins and Outs of the Town Hall

The Stoke Newington Literary Festival kicked off today with many of the events being held in the recently refurbished town hall. The Art Deco building has been restored with style and panache by architects Hawkins Brown and the attention to detail is to be commended.


Below is and excerpt from stokeytalk which describes the lengths they went to and the care that was taken with the renovation.

Shame about this then. Hope everyone manages to find their way in.... or out.

Stoke Newington Literary Festival

Summer Delight

I can completely understand why Ed would want a hummingbird. What could be more delightful than your very own tame hummingbird, trained like a Pokemon Pet to hover above your shoulder like Tinkerbell. 
In San Francisco we hung glass bottles (the kind you put in a hamster cage) filled with sugared water from the washing line. While the hummingbirds sipped the sweet liquid we sipped a glass of Californian Chenin Blanc and watched them flicker to and fro.


Nothing very exotic in the Hackney garden this afternoon... the dogs are barking at a squirrel and there are a few nondescript insects buzzing around in the sunshine. BUT, a few weeks ago, on an unusually warm, still day we saw something very exciting. At first glance we thought it was a bee but when we looked closer we saw it had an iridescent and silky bottom half - like a miniature peacock feather. It gave us plenty of time to study it as it moved from flower to flower unrolling its long, fine antenna to refuel. Google came up with the hummingbird hawk-moth and the BBC nonchalantly mention that it's found in Britain all summer long.


Here are a few of the tiny, vibrant creatures.