Showing posts from April, 2012

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Peter Panned: The Peter Pan Statue in Kensington Park

Before my husband and I visited London in May of last year (2017) I spent Fridays taking a virtual walk of the city, sharing what I learned via my friend google in a weekly post called Above Ground on the London Underground. That’s when I first visited Peter Pan in Kensington Garden.
At the time Joy, fellow blogger and host of British Isles Friday commented that she found the Peter Pan statue difficult to photograph. After visiting the statue for myself, I can only say, No kidding! I couldn’t get a really good shot either. But I wonder, does the fault rest with the photographer or the subject?

J.M. Barrie commissioned the statue from Sir George Frampton and secretly had it installed in Kensington Park—without permission—in the middle of the night, as if Tinkerbell herself had flown it into place. 

According to the announcement J.M. Barrie himself had published in the Times  ...
“There is a surprise in store for the children who go to Kensington Gardens to feed the ducks in the Serpentine …

Pros and Cons

Pros and Cons

She looked up from the margarita she was stirring with a straw. It just didn’t make sense. Drinking a margie through a straw meant you would miss the salt.

She squinted into the mirror; he was sitting solo in the booth behind her.
Shit! She’d planned on calling it a night.So,’ she thought, swiveling around on her barstool, ‘Are you a 33 or a 333 word man?’ “Oh, hello there” Smiling. A touch surprised. “Buy you a drink?”
A 333 word man for sure. Was he slurring? She couldn’t tell. She swirled her glass, watching the ice clink. “Thanks, I’m good”
He was hesitating.
“But thanks, anyway.”
That was it. Enough. He was sliding across the vinyl, standing, crossing the carpeted floor. Green, with blue and black swirls. God, that had to hide a lot of spills. Like the scotch he spilled on his weave over.
“Oops” He shook the scotch off his hand.
“Oops” She handed him a couple of cocktail napkins.
He dabbed at his pants. “Guess I need a refill.” He settled …