(no subject)
London seemed grey and tired all afternoon yesterday, the city was just in one of those winter moods. I think the capital suffers from Seaonal Affective Disorder. I mooched around the streets trying vaguely to look for Christmas presents, but ended up just going to various coffee shops and people-watching. In Starbucks I met a girl from Bulgaria who grew up in a tiny village that I, coincidentally, spend a few days in some years ago and we talked about Bulgarian cooking for a while. Instead of presents for other people, I somehow bought three books for me - a history of the French language which has some good phonological detail of Gallo-Romance, Russell Hoban's Fremder, and a lush big book about psychoactive plants around the world, which has some useful pages on salvia that I probably should have read a few weeks ago.
Later I met up with an old friend I hadn't seen for nearly 15 years; we got back in touch again thanks to Facebook, which just goes to show that it's not only a way to waste time at work, it can sometimes lead to actual human interaction! We found a table in the French House on Dean Street, one of the nicest little pubs in Soho, and drank too many bottles of wine together. Every time I go there the place seems to be filled with slebs. Last night John Hannah was at the next table, covered in a huge beard and laughing incessantly. I got drunk nice and slowly. For some reason my clearest memory of the night is of a graffito in the loo which said PRINCE IS LIVING PROOF THAT LIBERACE FUCKED LITTLE RICHARD.
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More on Levin's name. A Russian translator of my acquaintance tells me:
The name Левин is from лев + the possessive suffix -ин, and it is possible to pronounce it (and write it) Левин or Лёвин. In Anna Karenina, it is traditionally considered to be "Konstantin Levin", but there is a school of thought that believes Tolstoy intended for it to be "Konstantin Lyovin". So you may see it either way, but "Levin" is the most widely accepted.
Later I met up with an old friend I hadn't seen for nearly 15 years; we got back in touch again thanks to Facebook, which just goes to show that it's not only a way to waste time at work, it can sometimes lead to actual human interaction! We found a table in the French House on Dean Street, one of the nicest little pubs in Soho, and drank too many bottles of wine together. Every time I go there the place seems to be filled with slebs. Last night John Hannah was at the next table, covered in a huge beard and laughing incessantly. I got drunk nice and slowly. For some reason my clearest memory of the night is of a graffito in the loo which said PRINCE IS LIVING PROOF THAT LIBERACE FUCKED LITTLE RICHARD.
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More on Levin's name. A Russian translator of my acquaintance tells me:
The name Левин is from лев + the possessive suffix -ин, and it is possible to pronounce it (and write it) Левин or Лёвин. In Anna Karenina, it is traditionally considered to be "Konstantin Levin", but there is a school of thought that believes Tolstoy intended for it to be "Konstantin Lyovin". So you may see it either way, but "Levin" is the most widely accepted.