I’ve been having a problem with what I’ve been calling “the beep.” Basically, it’s someone’s fax machine that has been calling the apartment over and over and over again. It started late last week. I must have received 30 calls in an hour or so — and I left the phone plugged in because I was trying to get the problem fixed with the doorman/building manager. It ended up with me unplugging the phone.
The next day, I plugged it in and had a bunch of beep messages and started receiving more calls. I unplugged again. We didn’t get any calls on the weekend, but come Monday morning at 9:08, it started again. It beeped Tuesday and Wednesday, too. Both times I unplugged, and plugged back in to get plenty of messages.
I felt like I was being tortured. I couldn’t make it stop. The building people couldn’t make it stop. BT couldn’t make it stop. And it just kept ringing. Oh, and this phone has a very loud, jarring ring, too. And the fax didn’t have a traceable number. I thought I may lose my mind.
Today I haven’t gotten any calls. Let’s hope this is over.
Update, Feb 1: The beep is back. Rang 5 times already. And Mario isn’t around to help. Not cool, fax machine.
Update, still Feb 1: Unplugged after at least 8 rings (I lots count, actually), but was asked to plug it back in so BT could potentially fix the problem. While they were supposedly fiddling, I got at least 6 more calls, and I had 7 on my voice mail. Mario has been super nice trying to get everything straightened out and it sounds like he’s really getting the runaround from all the people he’s been calling to stop these infernal calls. He even offered to let us switch apartments, though ours is a bit nicer than the alternative, so we’re staying put. The phone shall remain unplugged until they can change the number or figure something else out.
No. 7 Market Tavern is a fun place to go grab a drink. They have a good beer and cider selection and plenty more on the menu. In the evenings it’s quite crowded, with people often sitting and standing outside. Upstairs, there’s a wine bar/lounge called the Chesterfield Room, which I’d never been to before, and I ended up eating lunch up there today.
It was decorated in red, orange and burgundy, with lots of velvet, wallpaper and chandeliers. It also smelled better than the beer and wet bar cloth smell downstairs, so I decided to stay upstairs. I ordered a sandwich and a soda, and settled in to read my favorite magazine, 
And then the fighting started. The small room was pretty quiet when I walked in. The only diners were me and a table of three women discussing hedge funds. There was a bartender/waiter manning the bar, and he was pretty relaxed since things weren’t busy. And then another bartender/waitress, who seemed to also be a manger came upstairs and started yelling at him. There seemed to be some scheduling/break time conflict and she was not happy. It wasn’t a few quiet words in a corner, but a fit in the middle of the room. It was hard to tune it out, and I wanted to leave, but I didn’t want to disturb them to ask for my bill.
Today I wandered down the street looking for a nice lunch at a cute little cafe I’d walked by a few times before — 
The service was also very friendly. My waiter was a very friendly hotel/hospitality management student from China who has been in London for two years now. The restaurant wasn’t very full, and it had a quiet, soothing atmosphere, with lots of clean lines and soft music. It would be a great place for a business meeting, and unsurprisingly, the rest of their clientele was in suits.
