First off, yesterday was my mother's birthday. And before anyone asks, she's twenty-nine. Happy (belated) birthday, Mum! <3
If you hadn't guessed from the title, I just got back from London again. This time, I went with some of my flatmates -- taking the train there with Love (seriously) and Matt, then meeting up with Robyn and Isa and Baya (Bea? Beya? someone correct me here please. I don't know how to spell it because she doesn't actually live in our flat) for lunch and general wandering. Isa had obtained buy-one-get-one-for-one-pound vouchers for gourmet burgers at...someplace near Soho? I cannot remember the name, but my burger had guacamole and bacon on it and was delicious and also huge. And I paid five pounds for it, which was very cheap considering the size of the burger (i.e., comparable to my head) and the fact that it had avocado on it, and the fact that we are in England. :3
We checked ticket prices for musical matinees at Leicaster Square -- which I still can't pronounce quite right. However, the girls were none-too-enthused by either the choices or the prices (Grease and Chicago were playing, both for about thirty pounds, and I don't remember any others because I am lame). They also had their hearts set on seeing Wicked, though, so I can't really blame them. It was decided that we would go shopping instead, so we spend the afternoon on Oxford Street, which has all the really big clothing shops. The ones I remember hitting are H&M, River Island, and a place called Primark (yes, Disser, it's pronounced like you think it is) which is kind of like a British Sam's Club but only for clothing. In all the shops, I tried on a ton of things -- including some awesome heeled boots that I couldn't really walk in -- and had a good deal of fun because I still hadn't quite figured out British sizing. I didn't buy a lot. Actually, I bought exactly one item: a River Island shirt that was on sale and fit me very well. :) I also tried Ben's Cookies for the first time. Triple Chocolate Chunk, which was basically three large chunks of chocolate held together by a small amount of chocolate cookie. Friggin' delicious.
After Primark, we decided we were all tired but too full from lunch to go get dinner, so we spent 30-45 minutes or so trying to track down the boys. The directions we were given over the phone amounted to something like this:
"We're somewhere off Regent Street. On Kingsomething. In a pub. Take the first left and the first right. The pub's name is C-A-somethingsomething." (In the boys' defense, they'd already been there a little while.)
We still found it, though I think I can take full credit for finding the boys themselves, as we initially thought we still had the wrong pub and were about to give up when I checked upstairs. Found 'em, and they'd been joined by Charles at that point as well. The girls and I sat around for a bit, debating about where to go. I was heading back to Colchester for the evening, but the rest of the girls had more local lodgings. During the discussion, I snagged a rum and coke from the bar (it was overpriced but tasty). The girls decided to just grab some fast food and head home. I decided to finish my drink and head home, and so we said goodbye to the boys and left, the four of us parting ways at Oxford Circus.
Robyn said she felt bad about leaving me to head home alone. I, er, may have laughed a little. It was nice to hear, though.
Also, earlier this week, while I was trying dragonfruit* for the first time in our kitchen, Robyn and Matt jokingly suggested that I post descriptions of all my flatmates in the blog. I won't be doing that, because it could lead to trouble, and also there are thirteen of us so I don't know everyone that well, and also because I am lazy. But for the record, Matt is a comfortably-closeted individual whose favorite pastimes include kicking puppies and playing ultimate Frisbee, and Robyn is secretly a unicorn.
----
*Verdict: Interesting but not as tasty as expected. Kind of like starfruit, but with white flesh, no funny shape, and a lot of little black seeds like kiwi. And less flavor. It is from a cactus, after all.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
hrblhrblhrbl
I haven't done anything massively interesting in the past week and some. I did, however, go to see Ghost Train Porters (a local country-ish band) at The Bull (a pub which does not serve food >.< ) last week.
Normally, I'm not big on country music. I don't hate it, but I don't truly hate any genre of music. I grew up listening to country music because that's pretty much the only thing my dad will stand to listen to in the car. Oh, and NPR if Mom's driving. So I do like a good handful of songs. I like Reba McEntire, though not so much that I didn't have to Google her to check the spelling of her name. And it turns out that I haven't heard a Johnny Cash song I didn't like. However, I'm not a huge fan of Taylor Swift and I do not think that "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk" is a classic masterpiece. (I am not making that song up. It exists and it is very, very bad)
But anyone who has lived in the rural US is aware that everyone, at some point, tries to form a country group. And usually they're mediocre at best.
Ghost Train Porters was the best local country group I've seen. And they're freaking British. WTF. They were a lot of fun to listen to, though -- they had a strong reggae influence, even nodding to it by explaining that one song was specifically "cowboy reggae." The singer was good, with a touch of growliness to his voice -- which I like in male singers. Probably helped that he and the other guitarist were kinda cute. :3
Also, I wanted to thank them afterward for not all showing up wearing cowboy boots, chaps, and cowboy hats. I appreciated the lack of bullshit there.
I've also discovered yet another Sam, who Mona and I have dubbed Achilles because we simply cannot have two Sams in one conversation (Samuel is now Samwise to us as well, just because we can). Unfortunately, Achilles and I have discovered that we are perfectly capable of having an entire conversation in tropes (if you don't know what I mean by that, go to this site and search for your favorite movie or book. I'll wait). This can only end badly. (And if you don't know why that is, go here.)
I probably should acknowledge Valentine's Day -- though I'm the sort of person who always kinda likes it, regardless of my relationship status. I don't like the marketing, I don't like the assumption that you're supposed to spend as much as you care about a person because that's bogus any time of the year, but I like the general idea of a day reminding people to be thoughtful. To not take their boyfriend-girlfriend-spouse-serious-sort-of-whatever-thing for granted. Of course, the majority don't think like this, and plenty of couples get into arguments because someone forgot somehow or "didn't spend enough" or whatever. Me, I like making cards, or going to a chocolate shop and picking out a few specialty truffles, or baking things. Please note that none of those things would cost more than $15 maximum. I like thoughtful gifts, and while shinies are very nice and I love getting them, I've never been in a relationship where I expected to receive them as a matter of course.
And if you don't have a serious-sort-of-thing-going, Valentine's Day is an excuse to hang out with other friends who don't and eat chocolate and watch bad movies. This year, I made brownies for my flat- and class-mates. Which were delicious, by the way. The brownies. Not the people.
Also, I always get something on Valentine's Day regardless, because my father always gives all the females in the family gifts -- my mother, my sister, and me. Chocolates and a card, and this year was not an exception and I have chocolates with booze in them. :D This probably has something to do with me liking the holiday. Chocolate is awesome.
Normally, I'm not big on country music. I don't hate it, but I don't truly hate any genre of music. I grew up listening to country music because that's pretty much the only thing my dad will stand to listen to in the car. Oh, and NPR if Mom's driving. So I do like a good handful of songs. I like Reba McEntire, though not so much that I didn't have to Google her to check the spelling of her name. And it turns out that I haven't heard a Johnny Cash song I didn't like. However, I'm not a huge fan of Taylor Swift and I do not think that "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk" is a classic masterpiece. (I am not making that song up. It exists and it is very, very bad)
But anyone who has lived in the rural US is aware that everyone, at some point, tries to form a country group. And usually they're mediocre at best.
Ghost Train Porters was the best local country group I've seen. And they're freaking British. WTF. They were a lot of fun to listen to, though -- they had a strong reggae influence, even nodding to it by explaining that one song was specifically "cowboy reggae." The singer was good, with a touch of growliness to his voice -- which I like in male singers. Probably helped that he and the other guitarist were kinda cute. :3
Also, I wanted to thank them afterward for not all showing up wearing cowboy boots, chaps, and cowboy hats. I appreciated the lack of bullshit there.
I've also discovered yet another Sam, who Mona and I have dubbed Achilles because we simply cannot have two Sams in one conversation (Samuel is now Samwise to us as well, just because we can). Unfortunately, Achilles and I have discovered that we are perfectly capable of having an entire conversation in tropes (if you don't know what I mean by that, go to this site and search for your favorite movie or book. I'll wait). This can only end badly. (And if you don't know why that is, go here.)
I probably should acknowledge Valentine's Day -- though I'm the sort of person who always kinda likes it, regardless of my relationship status. I don't like the marketing, I don't like the assumption that you're supposed to spend as much as you care about a person because that's bogus any time of the year, but I like the general idea of a day reminding people to be thoughtful. To not take their boyfriend-girlfriend-spouse-serious-sort-of-whatever-thing for granted. Of course, the majority don't think like this, and plenty of couples get into arguments because someone forgot somehow or "didn't spend enough" or whatever. Me, I like making cards, or going to a chocolate shop and picking out a few specialty truffles, or baking things. Please note that none of those things would cost more than $15 maximum. I like thoughtful gifts, and while shinies are very nice and I love getting them, I've never been in a relationship where I expected to receive them as a matter of course.
And if you don't have a serious-sort-of-thing-going, Valentine's Day is an excuse to hang out with other friends who don't and eat chocolate and watch bad movies. This year, I made brownies for my flat- and class-mates. Which were delicious, by the way. The brownies. Not the people.
Also, I always get something on Valentine's Day regardless, because my father always gives all the females in the family gifts -- my mother, my sister, and me. Chocolates and a card, and this year was not an exception and I have chocolates with booze in them. :D This probably has something to do with me liking the holiday. Chocolate is awesome.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
But There's No Place Like London. . . .
So, this past week I've gone to see a live production of the musical Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, gotten a haircut, visited a sweet shop and a bookshop in Colchester, and went into London for the first time! Unless you count the airport, but if you count the airport you are a stupid butt.
Samuel and Mona went with me to the sweet shop, bookshop, and musical. I think I entertained them by being way too entertained by all the different kinds of candy and how good everything was. But I have a sweet tooth the size of Manhattan, and besides that, English sweets are massively better than American. Something to do with using real flavors and real sugar instead of wax and corn syrup, I think. But I tried black licorice filled with fondant (which was a bit weird) and some rum raisin fudge (which tasted like sweet, solid rum), and Samuel shared some sherbet-y thingies (the English kind, which is a fruit-flavored sweet powder that fizzes; in the US, if you get sherbet it will actually be a type of ice cream), and Mona got a bunch of things and shared all of them -- including some boiled sweets with sherbet in the middle. Then we ate McDonald's, so I guess it wasn't so different from being in America after all. Except here, the apple pies are deep fried rather than baked, so they're more like a doughnut than a pie (turns out Mona has a sweet tooth to rival mine, which is great because I'll have someone to share candy with). On the subject of sweet things, I think I may need to try some ice cream parlours around here as well -- during the intermission of Sweeney Todd, Mona bought a miniature tub of vanilla ice cream from concessions. It tasted like vanilla extract mixed with cream.
So, screw drinking. I'm saving my money for sweets. (Though before the show, I did also try a lemonade shandy, which was interesting but not quite to my taste.)
Seeing Sweeney Todd live was utterly amazing, but I kind of wish we'd gone earlier in the run. As it was, the show was a week in and the actors had obviously been pushed too hard. Sweeney's voice was downright raspy at points (which admittedly could have been intentional), but I knew there were problems when the Johanna started having to force her notes. Still, the show was lovely, the Mrs. Lovett was a classless manipulating bitch (as is proper), and Anthony and Johanna's duets were amazing.
Now. London. OhmygoodnessLondon.
To start off, I didn't get much sleep last night due to being overexcited. Which was fine until like ten minutes ago. Or maybe an hour. I've only just started winding down, so it's hard to tell.
First, I took a train to Liverpool Street Station, which was uneventful. I also got a very good deal on a travelcard, which allowed me to use the Underground all day as well as the Colchester-London train. Emerging from the station the first time, though. . .
It probably would've been properly romantic if I hadn't almost been knocked off my feet by the wind. Now I know why everyone in movies set in London wears a hat. It's not a matter of style, but necessity. My hair was everywhere at once -- more so than usual, considering that even normally it's in ringlets. I wandered around like a dope for a little while before realizing I was going in the wrong direction, but eventually I oriented myself and made my way to the Tower of London. Where I took pictures. Then I hopped back into the Underground and went to the Houses of Parliament and Buckingham Palace, with a brief detour into Victoria Gardens. Again, pictures were taken.
After all this, it was barely ten o'clock, since I'd caught the first train out, but for some reason I was starving. So I stopped at a tea house and had a cup of tea and a Danish. Halfway through my pastry, I looked up at the shop clock. It was past noon. Checked my phone again. Still 9:50. Turns out that when my phone loses its network (such as when going underground), it freezes the clock until I manually select a new network. I think maybe I should buy a pocket watch. Still, it was a very good Danish.
I hit Covent Gardens next, and this was where I first started finding crowds. It wasn't, say, the UofM Diag at one o'clock, but it was close. I watched street performer AJ James make a surprisingly large number of innuendos for a family-friendly show (seriously. He used the term "love-hole." Brilliant). He also juggled knives, did backflips, and enticed two grown men to chain him up. After he'd stripped down to just his trousers. He turned out to be a fairly good escapologist as well.
The Apple Market was nearby, so I wandered through there for a while (and bought a knitted headband to help me manage my hair). Really, most of my visit today was of the wandering sort. I grabbed an actual lunch at a cheap Japanese/Asian place, then went to the British Museum.
I didn't spend long enough in there, and really only seriously viewed the Egyptian and Greek statuary. I know a fair amount of the history behind these, so frequently I know what I'm looking at. Also, Egyptian statues, while not as sensuous as the Greek and Roman, are awe-inspiring for sheer size. I'm afraid I don't quite have my mother and sister's appreciation for fine art*: I adore Impressionist and Surrealist works, but not to any greater extent than "I like how they look/how they make me feel."
I'm still not sure how I feel about mummies being put on display, though, and allowing people to take photographs. I did end up taking a few myself, though, so apparently it's not a very strong feeling either way.
Lastly I took a run into Piccadilly Circus, where I took a quick look into Hamley's. Hamley's is a five-story toy shop. Tons of teddy bears and hobby-type toys like Playmobil. However, not a stuffed dragon in the place, which was disappointing to me. Then a look into TopShop, a mishap with US vs UK sizing, and I headed back home because my feet hurt. I arrived back in Colchester at about 7:15 pm, having left at roughly 8:15 am.
A good day -- and I apologize if my summary of it is rough. I think my flatmates are planning something again. Hopefully this time they'll be wearing more than towels.
-----------------------------
Footnote added 6/2/2011
*"fine art" -- my sister just pointed out that my usage of the term implied some very nasty things, including that Egyptian -- or any non-Western art -- isn't really "art." Not what I meant, at all.
I should have said something like "more modern-ish art," because that is what I meant. I know very little about art made after about 100 CE. And only an idiot could look at hieroglyphs, Nordic weaving, or Celtic metalwork and believe that they weren't art.
As I said, I do love "modern" paintings, and my sister has even shown me abstract pieces I enjoyed. I just don't know enough about their history or composition to, I feel, truly appreciate them. Some pieces still make me want to cry or laugh, though, which I think is more the point. Egyptian and some Greek and Roman works do the same to me. More than once, while in the museum, I couldn't fight back a gasp. Even Celtic and Nordic pieces, of which I have so far mostly seen only photographs, have inspired a quieter awe; when I get the chance to view originals, I may indeed have a more visceral response.
Samuel and Mona went with me to the sweet shop, bookshop, and musical. I think I entertained them by being way too entertained by all the different kinds of candy and how good everything was. But I have a sweet tooth the size of Manhattan, and besides that, English sweets are massively better than American. Something to do with using real flavors and real sugar instead of wax and corn syrup, I think. But I tried black licorice filled with fondant (which was a bit weird) and some rum raisin fudge (which tasted like sweet, solid rum), and Samuel shared some sherbet-y thingies (the English kind, which is a fruit-flavored sweet powder that fizzes; in the US, if you get sherbet it will actually be a type of ice cream), and Mona got a bunch of things and shared all of them -- including some boiled sweets with sherbet in the middle. Then we ate McDonald's, so I guess it wasn't so different from being in America after all. Except here, the apple pies are deep fried rather than baked, so they're more like a doughnut than a pie (turns out Mona has a sweet tooth to rival mine, which is great because I'll have someone to share candy with). On the subject of sweet things, I think I may need to try some ice cream parlours around here as well -- during the intermission of Sweeney Todd, Mona bought a miniature tub of vanilla ice cream from concessions. It tasted like vanilla extract mixed with cream.
So, screw drinking. I'm saving my money for sweets. (Though before the show, I did also try a lemonade shandy, which was interesting but not quite to my taste.)
Seeing Sweeney Todd live was utterly amazing, but I kind of wish we'd gone earlier in the run. As it was, the show was a week in and the actors had obviously been pushed too hard. Sweeney's voice was downright raspy at points (which admittedly could have been intentional), but I knew there were problems when the Johanna started having to force her notes. Still, the show was lovely, the Mrs. Lovett was a classless manipulating bitch (as is proper), and Anthony and Johanna's duets were amazing.
Now. London. OhmygoodnessLondon.
To start off, I didn't get much sleep last night due to being overexcited. Which was fine until like ten minutes ago. Or maybe an hour. I've only just started winding down, so it's hard to tell.
First, I took a train to Liverpool Street Station, which was uneventful. I also got a very good deal on a travelcard, which allowed me to use the Underground all day as well as the Colchester-London train. Emerging from the station the first time, though. . .
It probably would've been properly romantic if I hadn't almost been knocked off my feet by the wind. Now I know why everyone in movies set in London wears a hat. It's not a matter of style, but necessity. My hair was everywhere at once -- more so than usual, considering that even normally it's in ringlets. I wandered around like a dope for a little while before realizing I was going in the wrong direction, but eventually I oriented myself and made my way to the Tower of London. Where I took pictures. Then I hopped back into the Underground and went to the Houses of Parliament and Buckingham Palace, with a brief detour into Victoria Gardens. Again, pictures were taken.
After all this, it was barely ten o'clock, since I'd caught the first train out, but for some reason I was starving. So I stopped at a tea house and had a cup of tea and a Danish. Halfway through my pastry, I looked up at the shop clock. It was past noon. Checked my phone again. Still 9:50. Turns out that when my phone loses its network (such as when going underground), it freezes the clock until I manually select a new network. I think maybe I should buy a pocket watch. Still, it was a very good Danish.
I hit Covent Gardens next, and this was where I first started finding crowds. It wasn't, say, the UofM Diag at one o'clock, but it was close. I watched street performer AJ James make a surprisingly large number of innuendos for a family-friendly show (seriously. He used the term "love-hole." Brilliant). He also juggled knives, did backflips, and enticed two grown men to chain him up. After he'd stripped down to just his trousers. He turned out to be a fairly good escapologist as well.
The Apple Market was nearby, so I wandered through there for a while (and bought a knitted headband to help me manage my hair). Really, most of my visit today was of the wandering sort. I grabbed an actual lunch at a cheap Japanese/Asian place, then went to the British Museum.
I didn't spend long enough in there, and really only seriously viewed the Egyptian and Greek statuary. I know a fair amount of the history behind these, so frequently I know what I'm looking at. Also, Egyptian statues, while not as sensuous as the Greek and Roman, are awe-inspiring for sheer size. I'm afraid I don't quite have my mother and sister's appreciation for fine art*: I adore Impressionist and Surrealist works, but not to any greater extent than "I like how they look/how they make me feel."
I'm still not sure how I feel about mummies being put on display, though, and allowing people to take photographs. I did end up taking a few myself, though, so apparently it's not a very strong feeling either way.
Lastly I took a run into Piccadilly Circus, where I took a quick look into Hamley's. Hamley's is a five-story toy shop. Tons of teddy bears and hobby-type toys like Playmobil. However, not a stuffed dragon in the place, which was disappointing to me. Then a look into TopShop, a mishap with US vs UK sizing, and I headed back home because my feet hurt. I arrived back in Colchester at about 7:15 pm, having left at roughly 8:15 am.
A good day -- and I apologize if my summary of it is rough. I think my flatmates are planning something again. Hopefully this time they'll be wearing more than towels.
-----------------------------
Footnote added 6/2/2011
*"fine art" -- my sister just pointed out that my usage of the term implied some very nasty things, including that Egyptian -- or any non-Western art -- isn't really "art." Not what I meant, at all.
I should have said something like "more modern-ish art," because that is what I meant. I know very little about art made after about 100 CE. And only an idiot could look at hieroglyphs, Nordic weaving, or Celtic metalwork and believe that they weren't art.
As I said, I do love "modern" paintings, and my sister has even shown me abstract pieces I enjoyed. I just don't know enough about their history or composition to, I feel, truly appreciate them. Some pieces still make me want to cry or laugh, though, which I think is more the point. Egyptian and some Greek and Roman works do the same to me. More than once, while in the museum, I couldn't fight back a gasp. Even Celtic and Nordic pieces, of which I have so far mostly seen only photographs, have inspired a quieter awe; when I get the chance to view originals, I may indeed have a more visceral response.
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