memory lane

I love Christmastime. It's lovely. However, I often get overly sentimental at this time of year. Right now I'm pining for my beloved London. I cannot wrap my head around the fact that it has been a whole decade since I lived there. My memories are getting fuzzier, but occasionally I'll hear a song, see a movie or even just see a photograph and I'll collapse into tears. I wept like an idiot watching Bridget Jones' Diary last weekend. I miss the sights, sounds and smells. I miss the pound coins. I miss the tea. Yum yum tea. I miss the fresh bakery that sold the most heavenly bread. I miss the pubs (oh, you have no idea how much I miss the pubs, good grief). I miss the cool music. You could go anywhere and hear excellent bands coming from any random stereo or just playing the the shops. I miss the tube, I miss the shopping, I miss the incredible Indian cuisine, I miss it so much. I miss the BBC (BBC America just doesn't cut the mustard). I miss my awesome friends. I miss English Christmastime.
I feel like going home, taking a hot Radox bath, drinking some Earl Grey and listening to Belle & Sebastian's The Boy With the Arab Strap or PJ Harvey's exquisite Is This Desire? (still my favorite album by Harvey) or Placebo's Without You I'm Nothing. I gotta get a copy of the NME, dammit.
Okay, enough reminiscing.

Why do so many people think that flamenco dance is called "flamingo dance"? The group here tonight is Flamenco Vivo Carlota Santana. The manager said that once they were playing a show and they were introduced as "Carlos Santana and The Flamingos".