NOTES FROM LONDON
Contrast. A striking exhibition of unlikeness.
That’s how our good friends over at dictionary.com describe things that are wholly different than each other.
London’s Tower Bridge and City Hall were built more than 100 years apart. The design differences — from boxy to bulbous — show how a city shifts through phases and ages.
It seems they have figured out how to make new friends yet keep the old. Classics share the skyline with contemporaries. There’s room for everyone as long as royally approved sight lines to St. Paul’s remain in tact.
Seriously. According to a very knowledgeable friend, new construction can be as tall as it wants, as long as it doesn’t block traditional views of the famous cathedral. That’s why a new building — still being erected and the highest structure in the EU — has taken on the shape of a pointy shard of glass. Otherwise, it would have blocked views of the dome which have been seen above the city for 300 years.
Ah, London. Urban renewal with a keen eye toward modern aesthetics.
NOTES FROM LONDON
Many years ago, during the first uprisings, King Falafel was deposed from his tiny sheikdom. After a tearful farewell, he moved his young family and old mother to London’s Camden Town to begin a new life.
He built a thriving sandwich business and dreamt of the day he would pass it down to his teenage son. But Prince Falafel only wanted to dance.
Rodney’s favorite films of 2011
My hair and makeup are in the final stages of completion. My Armani tux is back from the tailor. My driver has brought around the limo (the black one, not either of the other two). My stunning date has been CGI’d. It’s just about time for me to walk the red carpet.
Do you remember a while back when an immense burst of radiation slammed into the Earth? I can’t forget about it. It’s astounding to think that a shockwave of pure energy — enough to power every electric toothbrush, every smart phone, every presidential campaign and every civilization for billions of years — exploded into the atmosphere just a few miles above us while we slept, blissfully unaware.
I should apologize ahead of time for this review. I am in a snit, a tizzy, a bit of a funk and maybe even a little jealous. It’s all because I watched The Tree Of Life as the final missing link in my Oscars viewing. That’s two hours and nineteen minutes of my life that are gone for good, evaporated.