June 14-15, Departure and Arrival

 Two and a half hours to JFK on a Saturday afternoon, in the rain, is not bad at all, and since I had reserved a,—OK, let's call it by its name, Virgin Atlantic Upper Class!!! seat, check in and security took about five minutes.  With tons of time to spare, I thought it wise to check my phone plan.  Had the Unlimited International kicked in?  No, it had not!  Netflix with ads, which I had unsuccessfully tired to cancel, was still there.  Fortunately, I had the 800 number for international plans, which is a mighty good thing, because that little-known number allows you to speak to a person. Unfortunately, however, the person I got was barely understandable, and it sounded as if she was a million miles away, which I am guessing, she was.  Anyhow after some irritating back a forth, it seemed as if all was in working order, only it was not.  I still had the plan featuring Netflix with ads + an extra $100.00 charge for switching plans.  Another phone call, this time with a man who did not seem to be millions of miles away, and, after a  L O N G  L O N G time on hold, the desired plan was finally in place, for real, at last.  

At least there was some art at the airpot: 

                         

No, not an ad for an Apple Store.

Slept all the way from New York to London, a way of travel I highly recommend. 

The weather was perfect—today— and Richmond, several miles from central London, is an upscale area, full of upscale offerings:  shops, bakeries, coffee shops, eateries of many many kinds, lovely homes, a huge, and I mean huge green...maybe the size of a number of football fields, yeah, lots and lots  of football fields, parks, and so on.  Oh, and there is the Thames, of course!

As I was admiring this house: 

                                                

a woman came out.  She announced with some nostalgia that the roses had been just beautiful this year, but now she will have to wait for the second blooming.  But as you can see, what is there now is far from shabby.

Then I met Louie:

                                                        

Man, he was a huffing and a puffing.

Anya and Hugo, on the other hand, were neither huffing nor puffing:                                                                    

They were itching and scratching. or thinking and grooming.

And whom do we have here?!!

None other than:

In the soda section of the local Waitrose...No, I did not try any:

Life or art? 

Clearly, it is an attempt at art.  The @NatBowenArt reveals all!