Real Wicker Baskets

During the first week I lived in London, I took a walk down King's Road in Chelsea.  A young lady whizzed by on a bike that had a wicker basket attached to the handlebars.  It looked like it was right out of a Hugh Grant romantic comedy.  I figured it was just a one-off.  After awhile, though, I started seeing bikes with wicker baskets everywhere.  And the baskets were real wood, wicker -- not some fake plastic substitute made in China.  Often the wicker baskets were attached to the bike's handlebars with beautifully constructed leather straps.  There is something so incredibly British about these bike baskets -- how proper they look -- the willingness to spend the money and take the time to find an aesthetically pleasing, nicely crafted real wood wicker basket.

Sweet Hector

The other night a friend and I walked to a pub called The Phoenix.  We went up to the till, surveyed the menu and ordered some rosé wine.  As we sat our glasses down on the table, I looked out at the silvery dusk sky.  My friend began schooling me in all the various London terms that I am still madly trying to learn -- jumper, barmaid, knackered -- the list goes on and on.  After a few sips of wine, I saw a quiet black dog sitting at the base of the bar.

Dogs in London are incredibly well-behaved.  They do not leave their owner's side, and they follow their owner's commands perfectly.  Consequently, I was surprised when this dog began ambling toward me.  He sat down right next to me and put his head on my lap.  I began petting its head and then his owner looked around, spotted his dog and said, "Ah, there he is."  I asked the owner what the dog's name was, and the owner replied jovially, "Hector!"  I laughed and kept stroking the dog's head. The owner looked at me and said, "Why don't you look after him a bit, love?"  And so I spent the next several minutes in sweet Hector's company.