If you live in the city, spend a day in the country (ED468150)

Still thinking that London must be full of cool community festivals, I keep venturing out to ones that sound promising. One weekend, my best bet was the Waterloo Food Festival, mainly because it had the word food in the title; plus, it was direct train ride away from my neighborhood. But when I showed up at the Lower Marsh Market, all I found was a bunch of classic cars lining the streets alongside a sparse, none-too-impressive farmer's market. Turns out, this festival was much like the Streatham Food Festival, with special offers in area food establishments. In fact, even the non-food establishments were offering samples; after I bought a travelogue at the Travelling Through bookstore, I was offered a piece of cake.

I didn't want my trip to Waterloo to be a total waste, so I struck out to find The King's Arms, a historic watering hole a few blocks off Waterloo Road (left). This down-to-earth pub is situated on Roupell Street, a row of worker's houses developed in the 1820s by wealthy gold refiner John Roupell. The laidback atmosphere was reason enough to linger a while, but I was also pleasantly surprised by the range of local craft beers on tap. I had a pint of Mosaic pale ale by Kernel Brewery, a perfect blend of English bitter and American hoppy ale sensibilities, in my opinion. Also available were a Cowcatcher American pale ale and a Jamboree blond ale by East London Brewing, a Chieftain IPA by Franciscan Well Brewery, an Urban Dusk ESB by Redemption Brewing, a Mud Slinger chocolate milk stout by Wild Weather Ales, and a medium cider by Malvern Magic. I was satisfied with my earlier, free slice of cake, but if I had still been hungry, I could've ordered some Thai from the adjacent Kanchana's Kitchen (right).

Just when I was about to give up, I gave festival-hunting one last shot and finally found the motherlode, at the Lambeth Country Show. By early afternoon, Brockwell Park was layered in people for this annual event -- part amusement park, part petting zoo, part food market, part music festival, part sports exhibition, part all-day boozer.

July and August are the prime months for county fairs in Ohio, so this "country show" made me feel at home, right down to the community competitions, including for best vegetables (top left). Many of the competitors appeared to have adopted a film and TV entertainment theme. Among the scarecrow entries, set up to keep winged pests away from Brockwell Hall, was a two-for-one Titanic structure (top right). And sitting on the vegetable sculpture table was Game of Thrones' Jon Snowbergine, made from eggplant and carrots (bottom).

In another fantastical submission, corn and watermelon were used to make a fake unicorn, but there were plenty of real animals on hand, too. If you gave a donation to Berkley Owls, you got to hold one of their charges (left). In the Gate and West arena, your money got you a donkey ride (right).

In the "farm" area, I found the traditional 4-H-like pens of animals, mostly goats and sheep from Brymills Livestock, some of which were award-winning (left). Right next door, a few ewes were willingly being sheared in The Sheep Show, a kind of free ovine peep show (right).

The kids in attendance were getting their kicks on the many rides. If it weren't for the The Shard in the background, I might've thought the high-flying swings were from the Ohio State Fair midway (left). I was quite drawn to the giant inflatable slide, which brought back youthful memories of getting friction burns from sliding down a plastic one in a burlap sack (right).

 

However, I opted for the entertainment for adults, a variety of bands performing reggae, funk, soul, and jazz (left). The tunes were mostly background music, as I was distracted by my dinner: a hog roast in a bun, basically pork pulled from a whole spit-roasted pig covered with crispy crackling, savory stuffing, and chunky applesauce (right).

If there had been some country-music acts and some tractor pulls, I could've sworn I was smack dab in the middle of the Richland County Fairgrounds -- with a few exceptions. Although I distinctly remember locking myself in the cage of the Zipper ride during my days cruising the county fair, I don't recall there ever being a Skyfall zipline (top left). And there definitely were no free massages on offer in any of the outbuildings (top right). But most of all, I am absolutely certain that there were no cider, cocktail, and beer stands from which one could buy a Meantime Brewing London Lager (bottom).

An event that revolves around Bastille Day (147Cong.Rec.E1291)

Lest anyone think I am becoming too much of an Anglophile, I recently tried to balance things out with a trip to Borough Market, the oldest market in London, which was hosting a Bastille Festival. I'm not sure there's a chance of me becoming a full-on Francophile, but I can certainly admit that -- besides the near-even race for the best cheese and chips -- the French generally have the upper hand on the British when it comes to cuisine.

The festival was held in honor of Bastille Day, July 14, 1789, when citizens invaded the Paris prison in a show of force against the monarchy, forcing a turning point in the French Revolution. The citizens of London weren't nearly as forceful when they invaded the market's covered gallery to enjoy French entertainment and food.

I didn't even revolt when I waited quite a while for my galette -- a buckwheat crepe, with egg, cured ham, and comté cheese -- from the Suzette food truck. That might've been because I had a glass of sparkling Cidre Bouche from New Forest Cider to occupy myself while I stood in line. (A tablemate during a previous brewery visit had recommended I try the cidery's Kingston Black Reserve, which was on offer, but I opted to go for the French feel instead.)

My calmness and patience was rewarded with a front-row seat to some velvety songs from a French crooner accompanied by a cellist (left). Only after lunch did I stumble on the cookery demonstrations (right). Luckily, I was full, so I didn't feel the need to fight the crowd and rush the stage for the free samples. Truth be told, even without the extra snacks, I did leave the festival feeling a tad Francophilic.

 

A testing and evaluation position that didn't make the cut (S.Hrg.112-161)

My birthday present to myself included a trip to Old Spitalfields Market, an open-air Victorian venue modernized with glass ceilings that allow the 18th-century architecture of Christ Church Spitalfields to be seen from its aisles (left). The market was on my list of places to visit anyway, but the London Brewers' Market being held there upped the ante. With more than 20 breweries on hand, I had to choose wisely which half-pints I would sample (right). 

I decided to forgo the numerous pale ales and bitters and find the less prevalent types of beer. I started with a summery Raspberry Lemon Saison from Partizan Brewing, which had the color of berries but the taste of citrus. Sticking with the citrus theme, I then tasted the tart and lemony Ruskin Wheat from Canopy Beer Co. I'd been hankering for dark brews for a while, so I finished out with two stouts: the Ancho Cocoa Stout from One Mile End, which had a lot of cocoa but only a little chili flavor, and the Chocolate Milk Stout from Kew Brewery, which tasted like Hershey's syrup mixed in warm milk, but in alcohol form. 

The taste that just missed my list was the Orchid vanilla mild from East London Brewing Company. At some point, I stopped looking at the choices because I didn't want to feel bad about passing up better brews. (Incidentally, if anyone is still looking to buy me a late birthday present, I suggest signing me up for the Honest Brew delivery service.) The best part of the festival was that I could walk around Old Spitalfields, which was also hosting the retro market and Independent Label Market (left), while I sipped my suds. As part of the latter event, DJs played sets to entice participants to sample some vinyl alongside their malt and hops (right).

With my final cup in hand, the wait in line for lunch was much more tolerable. Once again, it was a tough decision, but I settled on Nana Fanny's salt-beef bagel sandwich. It barely won out over the johnnycakes of Boss Hoss Street Food, whose tempting aromas wafted over from an adjacent stand.

After refueling, I was ready to head to the second festival of the day: CiderDog, held at The Miller, a live music and comedy venue near the London Bridge (left). After buying tokens inside, I popped a squat at a picnic table outside (right), so I could enjoy the sounds of the Solid Steel Band.

 

Because more than 100 beverages were on offer, you were encouraged to order by number. I cracked under the pressure, and unable to decide, I opted for the bartender's highly drinkable recommendation: a "medium" Black Dragon cider by Gwynt y Ddraig, which managed to be sufficiently appley without being overly saccharine.

I wanted to try a variety of cider styles, but in order to simplify the selection process, I decided to keep picking ones with animal names. Next up was the aptly named Badger's Spit by Chant Cider. I clearly have a ways to go in developing my cider palette, as this "dry" seemed like it was made from crabapples (unfortunately, when I was a youngster, I ate one off a tree in my yard, not knowing it wouldn't taste like your average Red Delicious). I made progress, though, because as I tried the "fruity" Piglet's Choice by Nempnett Cider Company, the vinegary aftertaste faded away, in much the same way the soapy aftertaste slowly disappeared when I first started drinking IPAs.

I lucked into a second "fruity" variety when one of my tablemates volunteered to trade sips. We speculated on the source of the notable taste in Rootin' Tootin' by Farmer Jim's; she proposed rhubarb, and I posited ginger. I was pleasantly surprised when my "perry" sample, Panting Partridge by Newton Court Cider, was quite winelike. Generally, I avoid the fake sweetness of mass-market perries and ciders, which is why opted out of choosing a style from the "sweet" list. Sadly, the also-ran that I didn't end up tasting had my favorite adjective-animal name: Crazy Goat by Lilley's. Ah well, at least I'll be able to remember the name easily enough to hopefully try it in the future. 

The strong and special relationship between the people of the United States and Great Britain (H.Res.549)

So I'm in the middle of reading this book, Citizens of London: The Americans who Stood with Britain in its Darkest, Finest Hour, which outlines the U.S. government's reluctance to join England in its fight against the Germans during World War II. I was a little surprised by this, considering that I often read and hear about the "special relationship" between the two countries. But apparently, that cooperation only developed within the past century, which of course makes sense, considering the United States ultimately rejected that whole colonization effort on the part of the United Kingdom not too long ago.

In fact, the "special relationship" has its roots in World War II, partially because of some covert collaboration in the office of Cmdr. Alexander Denniston at Bletchley Park on Feb. 8, 1941, when U.S. and U.K. officials met in the dead of night to share secret information about German and Japanese ciphers. At the end of the same year, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, and by 1942, Americans were posted at the U.K. military installation to help break coded messages created by Germany's Enigma machine.

At Blechley Park, docents explain the parts of an original Enigma machine, a typewriter-like device that used rotors and electrical circuits to create encrypted messages (left). The Bombes ultimately used to crack the Enigma codes were destroyed at the end of the war to preserve the secrecy of the operation, but engineers constructed a rebuilt Bombe for the park's museum (right). Docents go to great lengths to point out that the Bombe is not a computer; it did not calculate codes, per se, but instead verified whether analysts' guesses, or "cribs," about the encryptions were correct.

 

This fine distinction is not made crystal clear in the recent film The Imitation Game, which was partially filmed at the park. The canteen in the movie was re-created in the mansion's ballroom (left). Other props from the film, including a fake Bombe and Alan Turing's desk, are on display in a special exhibit at the other end of the ballroom (right). As stated in explanatory materials, the movie's emphasis reflects the opinion of historians that the contribution of humans, not machines, is what ended the war two years earlier than it would have without Turing and his team.

 

Turing was among the many mathematicians who at some point lived and worked out of the Cottages (left). Now, that area of park is dedicated to remembering the Polish contribution to early code-breaking efforts; in these buildings were mass-produced the Zygalski sheets, the first so-called "cribs" created to outwit the Enigma machine. After the machine was completely defeated, the operation to decode messages was based out of the Mansion, where Women's Auxiliary Air Force employees used teleprinters to type out messages for Winston Churchill and the British government (right).

 

After the war, on March 5, 1946, officials from both sides signed the UKUSA Agreement, a pact to continue sharing intelligence that lasted through the Cold War and continues today as the foundation of the two countries' "special relationship."

The holiday as an opportunity for barbecue, fireworks and party-heartying (146Cong.Rec.H5661)

Most embassies and consulates around the world plan official Independence Day parties as a way of reconnecting with local contacts in their host nations. In London, Ambassador Barzun holds the event at his home, Winfield House in Regent's Park, and people (including myself) feel privileged to be able to attend -- even if the event celebrates liberation from the guests' home country (and even if I had to work part of the evening).

This year, the theme of the official embassy party was "retro," so decorations included antique autos in front of a re-created diner with Americana touches that reminded me of the Court Street Diner in Athens, Ohio (left). Sticking with the theme, the headline act of the evening was the band Duran Duran, which sang many of its '80s classics as well as "Pressure Off," the first single from the band's new album, coming out in September. Since the official party is somewhat exclusive, the embassy also puts on a community event for employees and their families. The day after the party, the stage was still standing, but it was accompanied by more typical holiday accoutrements, such as propane grills, picnic baskets, and volleyball nets (right). After eating some hamburger sliders, baked beans, corn on the cob, and cole slaw, I contributed to the day of freedom by restocking tubs of drinks for guests.

 

The next day, I decided to find out how Brits interpret our occasion by attending a Fourth of July party at the Beer Hive, a collaborative brewery in Brixton. I thought it might be a little overdone, kind of like Cinco de Mayo parties in the States, but if it weren't for the Tube overhead and accents around me, I would've thought I was at a backyard barbecue in southern California. The brainchild of London Beer Lab and Clarkshaws, tucked within an arch much like Brixton Brewery, embraces the car-seat ambiance of many San Diego microbreweries.

I started the afternoon with a collaboration from the two brewery founders: Coldharbour Hell Yeah! Lager, which was perfectly refreshing for a sunny afternoon. Then I had a fruity WTF Mango & Simcoe made solely by London Beer Lab, which actually looked like mango juice (left). I was able to even things out when my tablemates -- with whom I had made friends, as sometimes happens over pints -- bought me a Clarkshaws English ale Strange Brew No. 1 as part of a tongue-in-cheek toast to my traitorship. The soundtrack in the background came from the TwoSixOnes, a band that made Pantera covers highly listenable and whose drummer got into the spirit by donning a "Save Ferris" T-shirt (right).

The band that played later in the afternoon, The Champion Hillbillies, was even more patriotic, as it was led by a Californian and included a washboard player. To be honest, besides the band's lead singer and some red, white, and blue balloons, I'm not sure exactly what made this party qualify as Fourth of July-worthy. Sure, the Mangia, Mangia! food truck broke from its Italian roots to sell hot dogs -- with chips -- and, even if there were no grills, one guy in the crowd wore a T-shirt from Kansas City Barbecue, the San Diego spot where the piano scene from the American classic Top Gun was filmed. But on my way home, a man played the U.S. national anthem on a purple plastic trombone, and later in the evening from my balcony, I saw some "bombs bursting in air," so in the end, England made my American self feel fully forgiven for that whole revolution bit.

Things that have happened, that are possible, but that may not happen in my lifetime (S.Hrg.108-860)

Consider yourself warned: This post includes a very weak analogy between a trivial event in my life and a historic event in many people's lives.

Many weeks ago, I decided I wanted to go watch the Pride in London parade. For many people, of all sexual preferences, this celebration is a once-in-a-lifetime event, if only because you are allowed to drink with abandon in downtown London streets, throwing your empty bottles and cans wherever you choose. 'Cause it's all about personal rights, you see.

But then a couple of days ago, I came across a once-in-a-lifetime event for me: a chance to see Whose Line is it Anyway? live. The improv-comedy show was doing a two-week run at the Adelphi Theatre, and the best (read: cheapest) show for me to go to unfortunately overlapped with the parade.

I'm not really a bucket-list kind of girl, but if I did that kind of thing, seeing Whose Line is it Anyway? in person definitely would make the list. But of course, with the show no longer in production (the American version doesn't count), I didn't think such an achievement would ever be possible in my lifetime. So after buying my tickets, I was feeling a bit pompous about attaining an opportunity I never thought imaginable.

And then, a day before the show and parade, the U.S. Supreme Court had to go and gobsmack me, wiping away all my smugness with a single decision in the U.S. vs. Windsor case. And boy did I feel contrite. Here are two things I never thought I'd see in my lifetime, and I was more worried about the one that would give me two hours of laughs, not the one that gives couples a lifetime of love (just in case you aren't sure, improv, not marriage, is the former).

To be fair, I generally would be inclined to support improv over marriage, but even I get how monumental this is. I never thought I would get to see Colin Mochrie in the flesh anyhow, so it didn't much matter that this situation had been denied to me for so long. But that's a far cry from a government telling you that you are denied the right to have your relationship legally recognized like most other people can.

Obviously, I cannot fully grasp the weight of this -- even though Colin is a bit like my soulmate -- but my goodness, I get all emotional when I think about the huge implications this has for many people I know. Waiting for the parade to pass by, I was so choked up by the vastness of it all that I needed a drink. (Seriously, I should've brought some drinks with me; they were more prevalent than whistles and rainbow flags along Whitehall Street.)

Almost an hour and a half after the parade started on Baker Street, it finally passed the end near Trafalgar Square, where I had found a viewing spot from which I could run to catch the show. The parade started with a bevy of flags, with the Stars and Stripes right out in front, hopefully a sign that the other countries behind will follow its lead.

 

Most of the parade participants were people walking alongside some kind of transport. The blue of Barclays' bus and balloons set off the sky as they headed toward Big Ben (top). Before I had to dash off to the Adelphi, I caught some of the more flamboyant displays as well, including men in leather hot pants (bottom left) and stilt-walkers in rainbow clown costumes (bottom right).

As I headed off down the Strand, I didn't think my smile could get any bigger. But I was absolutely giddy from the moment I saw the Whose Line is it Anyway? logo on the screen (left). I finally realized what it means to be a superfan, when I geeked out upon recognizing that the musicians were Linda Taylor and Laura Hall (right), the latter of which upped the show's game when she took over for Richard Vranch in the 10th season of the series.

My internal awesome meter went off the scale when host Clive Anderson came on stage to introduce the comedians: Greg Proops, Josie Lawrence, Brad Sherwood, and of course my beloved Colin. The only way it could've been better is if Ryan Stiles showed up as a surprise fifth performer. No, I take that back. The only way it could've been better is if Proops gave props (see what I just did there) to the United States for finally getting on board with gay marriage, which he did. Which means it really was the show of a lifetime.