More (damp) elephant news
Off again today, into a much greyer, cooler day, with a suggestion of rain that was later confirmed. Piccadilly was closed, and there was a thin crowd on both sides of the street, clearly waiting for something to arrive from either direction. After a bit, I wandered down the closed and practically deserted streets to Pall Mall, still without any signs of the elephant. Opposite the RAC club (I think) half a dozen or so people were examining a row of cars that had been stitched to the ground by giant girl in the night. The owners of the cars had left maps and boxes of tissues on the seats, and the giant girl had left her needle stuck in the tarmac.
Further along, at Waterloo Place, the rocket had disappeared, and a damp security guard was minding the hole. He explained that this was the only hole in the road in the City that needed three people to prevent its being stolen. Finally, I spotted the elephant, reclining in front of the National Gallery, with the little girl asleep, twined in its trunk and a sizeable umbrella'd crowd watching them both. Of course, I realised after a bit, they're French, so after what had no doubt been a large lunch they were having a little sleep.
By this time, it was definitely raining. The sort of soft, persistent spring rain that doesn't feel very heavy but eventually gets you just as wet as regular heavy-type rain. I sat on the steps of Canada House, and waited for my friends to catch up. They were damp and fed up, and 6-year-old Lois was getting fretful, so we headed back the way I'd come and I showed here where the rocket had been and where the cars had been sewn to the ground. We fetched up, thoroughly wet and fed up by now, in the huge Waterstone's on Piccadilly, where we bought books for Lois (who consumes at least one paperback a day), and dried off in the cafe. They had been heading back to the car, but since some of the route police said the parade was on its way, and Lois had been restored to normality by bread-and-butter, we waited in Fortnum's doorway. Even though we were pretty fed up by now the arrival of the elephant, carrying the little girl, was almost as effective as it had been yesterday. Its remarkable size seems to cheer everyone up, for some reason, even though it was spraying us with water from its trunk. The crowds along the street were a little unnerving sometimes, especially bad when the whole party stopped outside the Royal Academy so that the elephant's crew could check their maps and take sextant readings from the non-existent sun, while the music (which included a bagpipe) reverberated between the buildings. We were rather hoping someone would get down and ask directions, but they just headed on down towards St James'.
Back home, I was so very tired and stiff that I fell asleep after Doctor Who (of which more later), and now that I've woken up I'm heading straight off to bed. Tomorrow, I'll probably be going out again, this time with the g-d and her boyfriend (and an umbrella).
Meanwhile, here are some more pictures - poorer quality today, I'm afraid, because of the rain.
Further along, at Waterloo Place, the rocket had disappeared, and a damp security guard was minding the hole. He explained that this was the only hole in the road in the City that needed three people to prevent its being stolen. Finally, I spotted the elephant, reclining in front of the National Gallery, with the little girl asleep, twined in its trunk and a sizeable umbrella'd crowd watching them both. Of course, I realised after a bit, they're French, so after what had no doubt been a large lunch they were having a little sleep.
By this time, it was definitely raining. The sort of soft, persistent spring rain that doesn't feel very heavy but eventually gets you just as wet as regular heavy-type rain. I sat on the steps of Canada House, and waited for my friends to catch up. They were damp and fed up, and 6-year-old Lois was getting fretful, so we headed back the way I'd come and I showed here where the rocket had been and where the cars had been sewn to the ground. We fetched up, thoroughly wet and fed up by now, in the huge Waterstone's on Piccadilly, where we bought books for Lois (who consumes at least one paperback a day), and dried off in the cafe. They had been heading back to the car, but since some of the route police said the parade was on its way, and Lois had been restored to normality by bread-and-butter, we waited in Fortnum's doorway. Even though we were pretty fed up by now the arrival of the elephant, carrying the little girl, was almost as effective as it had been yesterday. Its remarkable size seems to cheer everyone up, for some reason, even though it was spraying us with water from its trunk. The crowds along the street were a little unnerving sometimes, especially bad when the whole party stopped outside the Royal Academy so that the elephant's crew could check their maps and take sextant readings from the non-existent sun, while the music (which included a bagpipe) reverberated between the buildings. We were rather hoping someone would get down and ask directions, but they just headed on down towards St James'.
Back home, I was so very tired and stiff that I fell asleep after Doctor Who (of which more later), and now that I've woken up I'm heading straight off to bed. Tomorrow, I'll probably be going out again, this time with the g-d and her boyfriend (and an umbrella).
Meanwhile, here are some more pictures - poorer quality today, I'm afraid, because of the rain.