London skies and Russian Red lips

I love London, where I just spent a supremely sunny weekend (yes, really).
9 a.m.: the blue canvas seen through the roof of St-Pancras - the Eurostar now reaches London in a mere 2 hours, and arrives at St-Pancras rather than Waterloo station (the witty slogan of the ad campaign, featuring Napoleon in front of cheering soldiers, reads "Forget Waterloo!").
Noon: the spindly branches of Russell Square, in literature-infused Bloomsbury (think Virginia Woolf but also Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, who were married in the neighborhood).
4 p.m.: clear skies above the British Museum, where the beauty of the looted Greek exhibits is sure to make me teary-eyed.

I love London, though it's where, a few months ago, what little intellectual self-esteem I had was crushed Humpty-Dumpty style (no words of comfort please, I'm not fishing for solace), into painful shards; appropriately, Blondie's "Heart Of Glass" played on my ipod all weekend, and as a nod to Debbie Harry's hard-edged rock chic, I wore MAC's Russian Red lipstick.

In the days to come I'll share snippets from my shopping booty, glimpses from the British Museum exhibition on Chinese's art fascination for nature and more...