went to crate and barrel to exchange a bamboo mat i had bought yesterday in the wrong size. f i wish we had hardwood floors instead of these tiles which are very difficult to clean, but i'm not really complaining. garden street is a good place to live) and then von took me to lunch at iruna, a little spanish restaurant off jfk. it is owned by the same people who own pamplona, he tells me. we have black bean soup and gazpacho, an omelette of potatoes and onion (me: like roti john. von: roti john where got potato one?) both of which were good but were spoilt by a rather dreary salad, and then von has stewed beef chunks with potatoes and mushrooms and i have breaded sole and rice. it was all very pleasant and when we came back through one of the grassy spaces a man with a guitar outside peat's was singing george harrison's "something." it's 74 degrees today, and there was a light breeze. we go to dickson brothers for my toolkit. i am now the owner of pliers and reversible screwdrivers and six-inch adjustable wrenches and silver duct tape and a set of allen keys. and cutting knives and one-way ties (is that what they're called? white plastic things for tying cables) and tiny double-ended screwdrivers and torchlights and sandpaper and measuring tape and various kinds of sticky and strong glues and other things i don't know the name of. actually. put that all in the singular except the glues and ties.

von: do you want a toolbox to put all these things in?
me: yes, a pretty one!
von: *sighs* what about this one. (he holds up something monstrous and yellow)
me: but that says "phua chu kang!"
*von holds up a red box.*
me: ooh. a woman who owns a box like that needs to be able to do more things that i can.
von: well, the clothes maketh the man, and all that.
sagely pronounced, but not cogently argued. so we leave the toolbox section, sans box.

toolshops are rather exciting. i wonder if this is how a man feels in a lingerie shop.

to be continued when i learn to use them.