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I went to the Tate Modern to see the Ai Weiwei Sunflower Seeds installation but the exhibit was over and the sunflower seeds had been packed away.

So I’m staying in Ryan’s flat in Angel and I can’t let myself in because the keys can’t be duplicated. Every morning Ryan goes to work at around 8 and I go out at 10 or 11 to wander the city. With no itinerary! Because when I’m not overthinking I’m not thinking at all. Then we have dinner with friends and wander around some more (Will gave us a comprehensive, that is to say overthought, tour of East London, Brick Lane, Spitalfields, concluding with drinks at the George and Dragon, the neighborhood pub where Alexander McQueen-Tracy Emin-Gilbert and George-etc hung out in their obscure youth; when a medley of songs by Liza Minnelli came on I realized that there is such a concept as Too Gay) and go home just as hypothermia is setting in.

This afternoon I went to Oxford Circus to buy a dress for my brilliant sister who looks after my cat overlords while I am away. Ryan was supposed to call at 5pm to tell me where we would meet. I went to Waterstone’s to get the latest James Hamilton Paterson book, a history of postwar British aviation entitled Empire of the Clouds, and they had that Buy-3-books-for-the-price-of-2 promo again so there went my resolve to buy only one book. When I checked the time it was 6pm and Ryan hadn’t called or texted. And it was raining and people were scurrying into the shops to get dry. I spent the next 20 minutes trying to call and text but my phone chose that exact time to fail—so naive of me to think that given the exorbitant charges for global roaming my phone would actually work when I needed it. I tried calling other friends to ask them to tell Ryan I’d meet him at home, but my phone was dead to the world.

I was tired of hanging out in coffee shops so I started walking to the tube station. Then this bus stopped in front of me and the sign said Islington so I hopped in, but the recording said Seven Sisters and I had no idea where that was. Luckily the bus stopped at Euston Square where I managed to squeeze into the packed Northern line. Tired, hungry and drenched I hurried to Ryan’s and hoped that he was already home or I’d have to sit and freeze in the park until he arrived. And he was home! With pizza and our Croatian friend Bo whose devotion to Beyonce is epic.

What is the point of this story? None really, except to note that overthinkers spend their time expecting a crisis, so when a crisis does occur, no matter how small, and it is dealt with satisfactorily, we are pleased with ourselves.

And the minute I step in the door my phone revives and receives three text messages from Ryan saying he’d meet me at home. Urrgh.

We sent our intrepid correspondent Momelia to Newport Theatre at Resorts World Manila to see Kaos, the Vegas-Broadway spectacle. Here is his full report.

**There was this row of Koreans seated directly behind us. I think it was during Act Three that I looked back at Prince Walter who was suddenly in the middle of the audience; the performers scattered themselves amongst the audience from time to time. Anyway, as I turned I saw this Korean lady, she was about 24, and her eyes were beaming at the goings-on onstage. I really can’t blame her. Kaos had me simultaneously smiling and spaced out myself.

What do you get when you have a Prince from the medieval past, a Princess from the year 3000, a scheming Vizier, and a White Lion? And then you throw in some amazing vocal pipes, magnificent costumes, and a Euro LED wall. While you’re at it, add long-legged European dancers, acrobats from China, muscle men from Istanbul, and the Philippine All-Stars. Then pitch in a grand set and The Manila Symphony Orchestra. And maybe some VIP tickets, too? What you get is the two-hour spectacle that is Kaos, and you best get it soon because it all ends on May 31.
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The Diet That Shook Up Tennis?
by Tom Perrotta

How did Novak Djokovic conquer the tennis world?

Maybe the answer is as simple as this: Since last year, he’s swearing off pasta, pizza, beer, French bread, Corn Flakes, pretzels, empanadas, Mallomars and Twizzlers—anything with gluten.

Read the full article in the Wall Street Journal.

Photos from WSJ.

We’ve had our Djokovic issues: the way he would suddenly “fall ill” when he was losing, the post-match “I would’ve won, but”, his lack of respect for his opponents, and something that isn’t his fault: his parents. And his (pa-cute) impressions. But it’s hard to argue with a hot streak. We don’t see how he could lose at Roland Garros, it’s all up to him.

Looks like tennis will survive the post-Federer/Nadal era.

(Thanks to Jackie O. for the alert. By the way the writer is a different Tom Perrotta from the one who wrote Election and Little Children.)

Our coverage of the Bahay Bata kids does not end with this trip. This is an ongoing social experiment: we will check in with the BB kids periodically to see exactly what effect the Clifton College tour has had on their lives. It’s a lot more complicated than anyone thinks.

We’ll work out the details for our volunteer English language teachers for Bahay Bata next week. In the meantime could you let us know what days and times you are available for the trips to Pampanga?

My videos of the Bahay Bata UK tour will be aired on GMA news channel 11 later this month. Thanks to the PRFU, Clifton College and Touraid for making our coverage possible. And thanks to Globe for the support.

In June we’re traveling with the Philippine Volcanoes to the A5N Division 1 championship in Korea.

Wi-fi! Now for the long-delayed introductions. (And my debut as cinematographer, forgive the shakiness.)

Touraid CEO Andy Berry took the kids to lunch at The Cabbage Patch pub near Twickenham Stadium.

The kindness of strangers in Emotional Weather Report, today in the Philippine Star.

At the farewell reception last Friday, the kids said a few words to the Clifton College families who made them feel at home.
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Random picture taken from the London Eye

We’re all set for the Twisted meet and greet.

Date: Thursday, 19 May 2011
Time: 4 pm
Place: Caffe Nero at Tower Bridge, Tooley Street, London.
Fifteen pounds gets you high tea and a copy of Twisted 9.

We only have five books left (the first five went quickly) so please sign up in Comments pronto. If you don’t mind not getting the book, you’re welcome to join us for tea and conversation.