London: Day Two

On Thursday, Lisa and I had to part ways for the majority of the day. She was scheduled to give a presentation at a conference for the London Scholarship of Teaching and Learning (which, weirdly, was held at the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists). Since I wasn't registered at the conference, I was on my own while she wowwed the SoTL folks.

Left to my own devices, I decided to spend a little time shopping. My first stop was Harrod's.

Harrod's is a gigantic and extremely posh department store in central London. I thought it might be fun to do a litte shopping there, but it turned out to be waaaaaay too fancy for me. It was still fun, though, to see in person all of the designer brands that I've only read about in magazines. I brushed up against an Alexander McQueen dress, and secretly stroked a Manolo Blahnik shoe. The armed guard at the exit made me feel a little nervous, as if he could see right into my bank account and knew that I wasn't going to actually be buying anything.

I decided to hop back on the tube and go somewhere a little more my speed: Notting Hill.

I felt much more at ease among the flea markets and quirky cafes of Notting Hill. It was actually the most "at home" I've felt since moving over here. I went to some vintage clothing shops, browsed around some antique stores, and ate lunch at this wonderful, dark & cozy pub.

After lunch, I went to a place that I had read about in my "Offbeat London" guide: The Museum of Brands, Packaging, and Advertising. It was in the most bizarre location, down a tiny alley (more like  driveway) behind a row of houses.  It was worth the search, though. Inside was the most amazing collection of consumer packaging from 1900-2000. They had displays that traced how advertising and packaging evolved in response to historical events and changing cultural attitudes, showed how innovations in materials changed the shape and construction of packaging, and showed how well-known brands like Coca-Cola, Ivory Soap, Marmite, etc. have changed their look over time.

I know. It's a very strange museum. Certainly not for everyone. (Case in point: I was literally the only person there.) Still, I loved it. t was right up my alley. And, you know what? My brother would have really loved it.

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Lisa and I met back up around dinner time, and headed over to a small, off-the-beaten-path jazz club called Club 606. Man...what a night! I've never been to a club quite like this before. The front of the club is almost hidden from passers-by. There's no sign,  just the street number "606" over the door.

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Once we got to the entrance, we had to be buzzed in through a large metal gate. Then, it was down a flight of steps into the basement where the club was located. The place itself wasn’t fancy: Just small, friendly, and filled with live music. We had a great time, bopping to the music with the very polite British late-night crowd. (Most people in the audience, although enjoying themselves thoroughly, barely even moved while the band was playing. The most out-of-control guy there was the person at the table next to us that was tapping his fingers along with the music.)

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One of my favorite parts of the night was when after we enjoyed several Czech beers at the club, Lisa started singing what she later claimed was intended to be "The Girl from Ipanema." However at the time it came out sounding something like:

"Arriba cheepa! Arriba cheepa! I sing like the Brazillian!"

To be fair, there has been some dispute about my memory of the event. I concede that my recollection might have been tainted by the large quantity of pepper vodka I consumed.

Thus ended day two.