It's nearly a foot tall, for starters. Ah, Faberge...
It was very weird, in Istanbul, to see on the BBC rolling news that Leonard Nimoy had died. Another major cultural icon of my youth gone. A world without Spock, how sad is that?
There was a lot of horrid news, actually, the tragic assassination of Boris Nemtsov, the latest spat of killer avalanches...For some reason, being away from home makes it all seem quite unreal, though.
I forgot to mention that we lunched one day at the legendary Pudding Shop, which is now a very ordinary cafe, still trading on the Hippie Trail days, with photos on the walls of olden times. I ordered some kind of spinach/cheese concoction, which arrived literally swimming in oil, and inedible for me.( I was trying to spend as little as possible on food, but my cheap selections turned out to be false economy, as I couldn't stomach 'em.) Must ask my sister if she remembers The Pudding Shop in its stoner prime. She must have stopped there on her journey to the East.
Still feeling very weak and weary after my exertions on the cobblestones.
With no travel terrors to fret about, I can now go into full neurotic overdrive about the impending 'top surgery' in a fortnight. Wibble. I also kinda wish I'd gone for having the 'apronectomy' at the same time, but then I'd be even more frit, of course. They kick you out after one night, and I'll be 'home alone' with no assistance. Wah.
Choir resumed, after two weeks 'off' due to the conductor being ill. The old bat who gets put off by my tuneless groanings had to sit next to me, as she came in late. Heh.