The actual tomb of Isaac Newton, Westminster Abbey. Scanned from a postcard - no photography allowed.

My mum and dad check their watches a lot; I spend "too much time" standing and examining every shop/monument/air at hand. I saw Westminster Abbey after winding through various tube stations, London is permanently grey and rainy as promised, but once inside this place you are on sacred ground, a gathering off the mighty competing for your attention. Oliver Cromwell's tile is at the foot of the Royal Air Force commemoration window, Milton jammed behind coffins and effigies. I did not find Darwin's stone until I was standing on top of it. The most chilling of all were the tombs of Elizabeth I and Isaac Newton.

With Ben

Westminster

Freezing rain, so rapid-fire switching between umbrella, gloves and tube ticket left me all a-muddle. Chinese food for lunch at Basewater, with roast duck swimming in oil and a suspicious opium-like sauce, tofu and gluey vegetables so reminiscent of Newton hawker food back home. It was nicely void of pagoda-shaped takeout boxes and fortune cookies.

Remains of a protest

Covent Gardens was great for shopping the way we emptied our pockets in Disneyland. I was sorely tempted to take all the children's books with me. Carrying mysteries in your head that reflect on nothing outside, Oriental dragon adventure, a cloud kingdom - take you away with one well-chosen opening line. Also, the Mr. Men books (Mr. Uppity for Han), angels with stained glass wings, old comics pressed into purses and photo albums, heart-shaped underwear bags, Accessorize beauties. Another temptation arose in the Opera House greeting cards - one with a photo of the lead dancers at a ballet rehearsal of Romeo and Juliet. Their facial expressions were perfect alignments of pleasure and suffering at the thought of parting, clasped in each other's arms. I looked at that picture for a long time. It was only a rehearsal.

Accessorize - one sublime purchase





Covent Garden - a busker with face like Woody Allen

Billy Elliot, the musical - "Child actors kick ass, unlike the screech that marred The Lion King" -quite easily, I love musicals.
Billy's wonderfully portrayed as completely at ease with his sexuality at so young an age. He displays only mild disbelief at Michael's clear "poofter" leanings, never reacting awkwardly to his friend's raiding his mother's closet or kiss-on-the-cheek greeting; rather, he responds in kind to understand him - an echo of the madcap conclusion where every cast member, regardless of gender, dons a tut to dance in complete abandon. Voracious self-discovery is highlighted as healthy and precious.
Closing scenes verged on campy; an inevitable quality of musicals, but I remembered how much I liked the movie ending where Billy as an adult stepped into the spotlights - a lot more softly effective. Yet this was extended in earlier stripped-down scenes where the little boy is solo on stage with the lights, raw and powerful in how they force the audience to focus on Billy's effortless dancing. We cease to question the masculinity of ballet when the strength of such graceful expression is so apparent.
And Jamie Bell - fan the heat - was in the original. *FANGIRLS*
Andrea told me great story about seeing Ewan McGregor in Guys and Dolls, though it was very sad lah - he saw her trying to secretly take pictures when he was onstage and GLARED FURIOUSLY at her the whole time. Result - staff tried to confiscate her camera during the interval. Ewan, you snitch!

At dinner before Billy

With Kor and Andrea in theatre