Adventures in Europe, Day 13: London
After a lovely lie-in this morning, we went downtown to the Oxford Street - Tottenham Court Road area to run some errands. Sólrún purchased some glasses and bowls and a dishwashing brush, conspicuously absent items from her kitchen, and we met Júlía for lunch at Pret a Manger. I simply must describe this amazing sandwich I had there for lunch: a simple white baguette with brie, tomatoes, and basil. It was like heaven itself. So good, in fact, that when next we go to a grocery store, I'm going to buy brie and tomatoes. And possibly fresh basil if I can find it. Om-nom-nom.
Thence we headed for the most dangerous place of all: HMV, or His Master's Voice, the very best music and video store in London the World. I had one movie I really wanted to get, namely The Baker - a farcical comedy about a professional hitman gone into hiding as a baker in a Welsh village where everyone turns out to want someone dead, starring the inimitable Damian Lewis. I ended up coming home with Edward Scissorhands, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and To Have and Have Not. (If you haven't see the last one, watch it. Now. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars - it's phenomenal. "You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve?")
I could have brought about half of the rest of the store home with me, but I would have wound up a) broke, b) with no space left in my luggage, so I decided to leave that for another time. Sólrún and I decided to head back to Greenwich early and clean up her room before dinner. That mission being accomplished, we took a walk in Greenwich Park around the Royal Observatory, cooked ourselves a marvellous green bean-carrot-tomato-mascarpone tagliatelle, served with bread with garlic cheese spread, and curled up to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit? before bed. Jolly good.
We have started a dictionary of crazy Icelandic words with homegrown definitions. Credit for the first one goes to me and Grímur, and I'll have to explain this one in Icelandic. Við vorum að spjalla um blásarakvintetta, og einkum þá staðreynd að tónsvið þeirra er heldur hátt og erfitt að fá gott jafnvægi milli bassa og sóprans. Ég benti á að kvennakórar ættu gjarnan við svipað vandamál að stríða - þeirra tónsvið væri einhvers staðar uppi í jónhvolfinu. Eða öllu heldur Jónu-hvolfinu. Grímur svaraði þá um hæl að jónuhvolfið hlyti nú eiginlega bara að vera í Amsterdam...og þar með er komin skilgreiningin:
Jónuhvolf. Nafnorð, hk. 1. Raddsvið kvennakórs. 2. Nýuppgötvað lag andrúmsloftsins, finnst einkum í borginni Amsterdam í 1-2 metra hæð yfir sjávarmáli.
Thence we headed for the most dangerous place of all: HMV, or His Master's Voice, the very best music and video store in London the World. I had one movie I really wanted to get, namely The Baker - a farcical comedy about a professional hitman gone into hiding as a baker in a Welsh village where everyone turns out to want someone dead, starring the inimitable Damian Lewis. I ended up coming home with Edward Scissorhands, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and To Have and Have Not. (If you haven't see the last one, watch it. Now. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars - it's phenomenal. "You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve?")
I could have brought about half of the rest of the store home with me, but I would have wound up a) broke, b) with no space left in my luggage, so I decided to leave that for another time. Sólrún and I decided to head back to Greenwich early and clean up her room before dinner. That mission being accomplished, we took a walk in Greenwich Park around the Royal Observatory, cooked ourselves a marvellous green bean-carrot-tomato-mascarpone tagliatelle, served with bread with garlic cheese spread, and curled up to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit? before bed. Jolly good.
We have started a dictionary of crazy Icelandic words with homegrown definitions. Credit for the first one goes to me and Grímur, and I'll have to explain this one in Icelandic. Við vorum að spjalla um blásarakvintetta, og einkum þá staðreynd að tónsvið þeirra er heldur hátt og erfitt að fá gott jafnvægi milli bassa og sóprans. Ég benti á að kvennakórar ættu gjarnan við svipað vandamál að stríða - þeirra tónsvið væri einhvers staðar uppi í jónhvolfinu. Eða öllu heldur Jónu-hvolfinu. Grímur svaraði þá um hæl að jónuhvolfið hlyti nú eiginlega bara að vera í Amsterdam...og þar með er komin skilgreiningin:
Jónuhvolf. Nafnorð, hk. 1. Raddsvið kvennakórs. 2. Nýuppgötvað lag andrúmsloftsins, finnst einkum í borginni Amsterdam í 1-2 metra hæð yfir sjávarmáli.