Must try to ring my mother (sigh-) and see if she's got lights, etc. The last time there was a huge power failure in New York, I had started college, but was still living at 'home', and was enormously vexed to be trapped in Williston Park, laboriously trying to translate Balzac (something about Big Nanon's fat arms, I think...) by candlelight while my classmates in Manhattan were getting up to all sorts in the uncanny dark.
I went down to the Museum of Garden History to see the EXHUMED show. It was lovely, there. I'd only been once before, although it's quite near,on Albert Embankment. I would very much have liked the catalogue, but , of course, couldn't sanely part with £10. It was all quite interesting, sometimes spooky, sometimes moving. I particularly liked Orla Barry's 'Mulberry, Roses and Rosemary',a decorated grave with a ghostly recorded monologue by an unhappy soul telling us all to fuck right off. I got depressed, thinking my own ghost might well talk like that.
Captain (Bounty) Bligh and his wife are buried there, (the former church of Saint-Mary-at-Lambeth-) as are a great many 'strangers' and 'unknowns'. The atmosphere is more wistful, generally, than creepy, though, and it's a fine place to spend a bit of time on a pretty day. They have an excellent coco de mer seed on display, too. Want one...