Tuesday Catblogging

Greg and me. (Apologies for the quality: It's a photo of a photo.)

Well, there's some bad news on the catblogging front. Greg has departed. Not this plane of existence, but he's gone to live with our pastoral assistant, who was his chief caretaker. A lot of turnover in the parish--several longtime priests have moved on to another parish the order runs Kent--meant that Greg was feeling a little out of sorts. His new home is a little more rural, perfect for a maturing cat like Greg. I was chatting with the pastoral assistant about his new life. She said he'd mastered the catdoor to go outside, but was having a little trouble figuring out how to get back in through the same door. To teach him how to do it, she said she'd gone out another door, then "posted" him--as a postman might--through his catdoor.

Tuesday Catblogging

If you look at Greg's tail closely, you may find it forms a golden spiral.

Swiss catblogging

Nala, who lives with our friends in Switzerland, gets snuggly with her stuffed chicken while it snows outside.

Whitecross Street Catblogging

Don't know if this cat is asking to be let in or simply basking.


-- Post From My iPhone

A Scene from Hampton Court Palace

Some days, I just feel so exposed, don't you?

Wednesday Moonblogging

Inner-city vistas. From a couple of weeks ago.

(Note: Blogger's not letting me upload larger photos.)

Please Stay Tuned For Yet Another Party Political Ad

In honor of the upcoming Republican National Convention: I've got your Country First: right here!

Friday Catblogging

What cat doesn't like a good neck skritch?

Friday Catblogging

Council estate cat flirted for a minute, but had better things to do.

Madrid Photos

A Flickr photoset is here, for those who want more detail.

Friday Catblogging

Wapping cat didn't want to be friends.

Like Frampton, London Comes Alive

Howdy. London has shaken itself of 18 months of March and become a summertime city. After the near-nonstop rain of last summer (I saw my breath on July 31--no joke) nothing could be more welcome. Mrs. Werbenmanjensen and I decided to take a long walk through the city, to the South Bank, and then take a detour through Wapping on the way back home. Photos from it are immediately downstairs.

Among the places we went was the Wapping steps (pictured below) that led to Execution Dock, where pirates were executed. Their bodies were left to hang at the low-water mark, and then the tide was allowed to wash over their heads three times, a ceremony known as the "Grace of Wapping."

Also, as you can see, I've taken advantage of my new iPhone and a ShoZu account to do some mobile blogging. Expect more of this in the future.

Friday Catblogging

This charming fellow seemed to make his home in the gardens of Dublin Castle.

Dublin Scene

I guess the war isn't over for everybody.

(Photo by Mrs. W.)

Signs Of The Obvious

Why yes, Flood Lane might be liable to flooding if it's right next to the Thames, which it is in this case. From the non-rugby collection of Twickenham images.

Friday Catblogging

In a startling reversal of form, Friday catblogging is making a special guest appearance on Monday.

Where's Greg?

There he goooooooeeeesss.

And there he is!

The Passionist fathers and brothers who operate the church have informed us that the Westminster Archdiocese will assume control in October. Nobody's told us what will become of Greg. Let's hope he stays!

Scrum Bums

It's been a sporty couple of weeks for me. Football last week, followed seven days later by rugby, live from Twickenham Stadium, home of English Rugby. And with a trip to see cricket last summer, we've now done the triple crown of quintessentially English sports.

Saturday's game was a European Cup semi-final match between London Irish (who play in Reading) and Toulouse (who play in, probably, Toulouse, as in France). Since it was a high-level match, it was played at a theoretically neutral ground, although it was clear Irish fans dominated the stands. Would that it were so on the pitch.

Here you see one of the more interesting plays, a "line out," (click for better detail), the equivalent of an in-bounds throw in basketball. There's lots of feinting and pumping of the ball on a line-out play, as both team scan lift a player up into the air to catch it (or knock it loose), so anticipation is key.

These photos are as rubbish as last week's football photos, but bear with me. They were taken with my iPhone.


The truly quintessential rugby play, the scrum. Which is what happens when one team fumbles the ball forward (a penalty called a "knock on.") The team who didn't fumble gets to toss the ball into the two tons of snorting humanity, usually to his side's favor. I had an American say he didn't understand a scrum. I described as being the same as a jump ball in basketball: It's how you decide possession after play has stopped for a specific reason. Not so much anymore in basketball, I suppose.

And after a hard-fought Toulouse victory--their side was favored, although the outcome was not clear until the final whistle as Irish, down by a try kept, pushing toward their goal--you see that the fans can get along, with the green Irish flags and the red Toulouse fans flying side-by-side. Not like football at all.

April Is The Cruelest Month

Winter ...



Spring ...



It's finally spring in London. On Tuesday and Wednesday I rode my bike through central London in the post-work hours and the tables outside the pubs were occupied by more than just the smokers. We'll know it's summer when some of the beer-gutted men have doffed their shirts--although since we didn't have one last year, who's to say we'll have one this year? Yesterday was sun, rain, sun, rain, sun, rain, sun. In short, typical April.

Saturday And Football, Like Fish And Chips

... or something. On Saturday, I managed to borrow a pair of season tickets to see the legendary Arsenal Football Club, aka the Gunners, at their fairly new park in North London. From our old flat in Highgate, I could walk to the main drag, turn left and see the top of Emirates Stadium, but inside it's a little more fun. Saturday's game was against Reading, a club that might get dragged into a little bit of a relegation battle (in European sporting leagues, the bottom two or three teams in any league get bumped down to the next level and the top two or three from the league below get to move up. It spares the awful spectacle of teams trying to lose to improve their draft position that you see in such leagues as the NBA as moving down a league has financial consequences).

I invited a friend whose knowledge of football is fairly encyclopedic. He is a Crystal Palace fan and could recall the scores of the last four times Palace ventured to Arsenal's old stadium (all losses for Palace). Among other things, I could crack a joke about a pub called "The Herbert Chapman" on Holloway Road and he was able to tell me which titles Arsenal won under Chapman (the years helpfully listed inside the stadium).


This photo will join millions of other lousy photos of football matches published online (you can click on it for better detail--Arsenal are in red, Reading in blue, and Arsenal is on the attack in this photo). One thing to note: If you look at the far end of the stadium, you might just be able to make out a line of orange-clad stewards. To the right of them are Arsenal fans, to the left are Reading fans. Football fans do not tend to play well together.

My friend, the Palace fan, said after the game, "I'd forgotten how good football can be." Indeed, Arsenal were in the hunt for four titles this year, although at this late stage in the season are out of all four. They did win this one, however, 2-0.

Friday Catblogging

Well, let's see what's in the ol' archives ...


Greg settles in for a nap.