HQ

We were just walking down the street, minding our own business, when:

The sign was an overly dramatic way to make pedestrians aware of the construction site, especially on a Saturday when no work was taking place, but I guess it did get our attention. Safely out of danger, we passed this tiny pub crammed into a narrow passageway, first built here in 1546 on land owned by the Bishops of Ely, Cambridgeshire:

Even though the pub technically became part of London in the 1970s, mail addressed to "The Mitre Inn, 1 Ely Court, Holborn Circus, Cambridgeshire" as late as 2004 made it to its physical London destination. We headed down the passage to St Etheldreda's Church, where this image posted at the entrance to the crypt gave a vague clue as to what was going on inside:

The two tables in the crypt weren't exactly set for a feast,

but people still queued for seats. Why?

The fine folks in felt were here to recreate a painting--like a scene in a Jane Austen novel where characters engage in games of tableau vivant to pass the time (no telly, so what else are you going to do?), but without any of the underlying sexual politics (I assume).

It was definitely one of the strangest artistic London outbursts we've witnessed. We walked a bit in the neighbourhood before my hay fever once again got the better of me and we had to head home. Before my sinuses struck, we passed a boarded-up side of Smithfield Market,

an old plaque that marks an enormous building as "The Central Cold Storage" (appropriate for a location next to the main meat market),

not necessarily the ideal HQ your typical CEO may have in mind,

and a rather fierce detail on the walkway that cuts through the middle of the market.

I also got this pic of a leftover headline from yesterday:

Next time I'm in Sainsbury's, shaking my head in disbelief at yet another food staple that's gone way up in price since the last time we needed it, I'll look around me to see if her majesty's also tsk-tsk-ing as she reluctantly reaches for the yogourt.