Happy New Year!

As this year draws to a close, I am painfully aware that I have not maintained my resolution to be more frequent and regular with updates to my blog, nor have I been more faithful in keeping in touch with my distant friends. So, once again, my New Year’s resolution will be to fix both of those problems. Also, I suppose I could resolve to figure out what I’m doing next year, but that’s more of a necessity than a resolution.

Anyways, what has been happening since I posted in the summer? The Renaissance Festival was great, as expected. I survived the ordeal of living in a tent on the edge of a swamp in high mosquito season, mostly because it got too cold for mosquitoes in the last few weeks-dropping down to freezing temperatures at night. Of course, this presented other problems, i.e. how to stay warm enough at night! But cocooned in my down comforter, wool blankets, and warm pajamas, I did just fine. My tent turned out not to be entirely waterproof, at least not under the heavy pelting rains that hit us early on. However, a tarp rigged up in the trees just over my tent roof kept me-or at least my stuff-dry. Food was decent-my bosses have a Sam’s Club membership, and everyone contributed $20 to the weekly shopping trip. That meant that we got much better food than we could have otherwise managed. Most of the time we cooked dinner together (usually a slab of meat grilled, with veg and starch), and had sandwiches for lunch. One time, one of the knights went home to go hunting and brought back a whole lot of dove breasts, which were really quite tasty.

So much for basic living. The work was also highly enjoyable, naturally. On the weekends, I got up fairly early to get into costume, before heading up to the stables. There I show groomed the horses, with the other female squire, Nikki. This meant grooming their coats more carefully than just for a ride, as well as braiding their manes and tails. That sounds like a lot more fun than it is, because you quickly realize that horses have a lot more hair than you think. In other words, it takes an awfully long time to put a horse’s mane into little tiny braids with little tiny rubber bands at the end. Still, it was working with horses, so I didn’t really mind. Then, two knights and two squires had to go to front gate-the knights to accompany the Queen on her entrance into the village, one squire to clean up after the horses, and one squire (either Nikki or I) to ride the Queen’s horse, Baron, to the gate. He was side-saddled, but my boss Kate did not see the point of leading a horse anywhere when there was someone to ride it, so Nikki or I took him down and back in the morning. Then we had free time until noon, when we finished grooming the horses and tacked them (and the knights) up for the first show. The rest of the day was a cycle of doing shows, getting untacked to rest, tacking up again, etc. It was fun, but hard work. During the show, the job of the squires was to hand lances (and anything else needed) to the knights, and to clear the field of dropped or broken lances, helmets, knights or anything else that might get in the way of charging horses. We also had to catch the horses after the knights had fallen off, which wasn’t too hard, as most of them trotted happily to the dais, knowing that they got to rest there. However, everything had to be done at a run, to keep the show running smoothly, and in case one of the horses wasn’t so relaxed. Nothing ever went quite as rehearsed, but nothing went truly, horribly wrong (ie. nobody died during a show). There were only two serious injuries during shows: at one point, two knights improvved in an extra punch, and the fan of the elbow guard of the knight doing the punching ripped the punchee’s cheek. That meant six stitches in the face, a show missed, and his squire had to do all the talking during shows, which was actually hilarious, because it was Nikki who ended up uttering dire threats to the other knights (and doing a damn good job of it too). Unfortunately, the next day, the same knight got his knee guard caught in his reins as he went flying over his horse’s neck, and cut Oscar’s tongue. So, Oscar was out for the last show, but he was already healing up by the end of the day. And those were the only serious injuries during the shows. Cuts, bruises, bumps, near misses and hurt feelings abounded, but those are all soon mended.

We did lose one horse during the run, to Patomic horse fever. Her name was Isabeau, and she was a sweet little thoroughbred, ridden by Troy in the show. We found her the Saturday of Memorial day weekend, looking like she was colicking. Kate, who knows a lot about caring for horses, did what she could and called the vet. I don’t know what all they did, because the terms were all new to me, but I believe they gave her a shot, and posted Nikki (who was Izzy’s squire) to keep her up. Basically, horses’ digestive systems, which are already delicate, don’t work very well when they are lying down; they need the gravity to work. So when a horse is having digestive trouble, you have to keep her standing, while all she wants to do, more than anything, is lie down and roll around to ease the discomfort. Rolling is the worst idea, because the intestines can get tangled. Horses, like babies, colic because they have no forward movement in their digestive systems, no burbing, no barfing. Babies grow out of it as their muscles strengthen, but horses just don’t have that mechanism. Anyways, Nikki kept watch on Izzy, making sure she stayed standing, and making her run around every so often to aide digestion. Izzy showed much improvement by the end of the day, so we assumed it was just colic, and went on with our lives. She didn’t work Sunday, but Monday she was back in the show, seemingly fit as a fiddle. Tuesday afternoon, however, she was lying down and groaning again. Nikki and I took her up to the lawn in front of the house where Kate and Robb were staying, because grass cleans horses’ systems out, and what she needed to do was have a great big poo. Once she got up there, she started trotting around, whinnying for the other horses and farting, which was a good sign, and also a good laugh. So after a few hours, we took her back down again in high hopes. The next morning, however, she was worse. I was eating my breakfast in the tent, when Stephanie, Troy’s girlfriend, came running into camp shouting our names, or for anyone who knew about horses. We all bolted over to the stables and found Izzy lying down and groaning. It was almost impossible to get her to her feet. This time the vet realized that it was patomic horse fever. He put her on an IV, and told us to keep her on her feet at all costs, and change the IV bags every hour. We took turns watching her and changing the bags. It was pretty grim. She was very unhappy. She took to blowing bubbles in her water bucket to express her displeasure, but that was the only funny thing that happened the whole day. By the end, having had 40L of liquid pumped into her, without passing anything at all, we knew her kidneys had failed, and the vet came to put her out of her misery. It was really sad, but the right thing to do. That night we held a royal wake.

On a higher note, I’ll tell you about the weekday events that happen just for the performers and people who live out at the fair. On Mondays, there was Bizarre Bazaar, where anyone who wanted to could set up a booth and sell anything, from massage therapists with their tables, to old clothes from someone’s closet, to a litter of puppies. There was a vegetable booth, and a Thai woman selling food and telling fortunes, alarmingly accurately. Wednesday night was the wine tasting, where everyone brought a bottle, for under $10. The bottles were masked, and everyone expressed their opinions, without any special vintner’s knowledge, with some hilarious result. Then, after everything had been tasted and rated, the rest was consumed, with the absolute losers being saved for when we could no longer taste anything. Then there was the dance party. J On the second to last week, this was a costume party, with this year’s theme being ‘birds of a feather’. Not being able to find anything feathery other than witch hats with feathers on them, Nikki and I went as witches. The best costume (to my mind) was someone who dressed up as Ray, the falconer, and did a remarkable impression of him. But I guess you had to be there.

This summer was an amazing experience, and there are so many more stories to tell, but this is already too long, and I still have three months to write up to bring me to the present. In fact, I am hoping to run off and work for Kate and Robb next year, provided I can find enough work for the year. I would need to buy a car (so if anyone knows of a cheap, but good car, that is on the market or will be between now and June, you would have my undying gratitude), but my parents are being very supportive. It was actually my dad’s idea, originally, something he denies hotly now. In the grander scheme of things, they would rather I get a job with benefits, so that the next time I break something or get really sick (ie. probably next November, seeing as that month seems to be bad for my health), I would be safely provided for. But that dream is definitely along the same lines as wishing Mary would marry a rich business man who would make sure she remembered things, and also provide her with health insurance. Parents can dream, I suppose. J I am incredibly grateful to them for even entertaining this wild idea, which by necessity relies so heavily on their financial (as well as moral) support.

To be continued…

what I forgot to tell you all about from this Spring/early Summer was the course I took at the Globe. On the one hand, it was really cool (I mean, I was studying Shakespeare at the Globe theatre in London, for goodness sake), but on the other, it was disappointing. I was actually one of only three people out of 18-20 who had *any* theater experience, and I probably had the most. The class was thus pretty academic, which was highly frustrating: I wanted to learn how to do the techniques we were talking about, not just... talk about them. Also, and this is entirely me just being a snob, but the class was made up of American study abroad students (it's intended just for us), from a lot of different universities, and the discussions were... anything but stimulating. Some of the comments were so banal, they drove me a little batty. but, judge not lest ye be judged and all that. And for all the academic tone of the lectures, the other students whined from beginning to end about how we had to act (heaven forbid! in a theater class! oh noes!) in scenes from Romeo and Juliet, the play then on at the Globe, and hence, what we were studying (the attentive reader will note that this meant I was working with that play for roughly six months). I on the other hand loved working on those scenes. We were divided into small groups and worked with a professional actor to prepare for a performance-just for ourselves-at the end of the course. It was the first acting I'd done in years, and reminded me why I love it. I
also learned for the first time how to find the stresses in Shakespeare, which makes it make infinitely more sense, and sound more natural.
We went as a group to see Romeo and Juliet, twice, once from the gallery, once from the yard. The yard is much to be prefered: tickets are cheaper, and if you don't mind queuing up and then being a bit forceful to get a good spot, you can end up leaning against the stage, sometimes having to lean back not to get stepped on by the actors. This is much more interactive than regular theater, and there's no danger of dozing off, even for the most weary audience-member. I also got to experience the yard in the rain, which was less ideal, but still preferable to the hard (albeit dry) benches in the gallery. Meagan and I went to see The Frontline, a contemporary play set in one of the grittier parts of south London, written for the Globe. It was interesting to see how they used the space, and how the structure of the play mirrored that of a Shakespeare. The subject matter was dark though (drugs, sex and drug related murders), and all the excellent choreography and witty dialogue couldn't make it truly enjoyable in the lightest sense of the word. Also, the sky poured absolute buckets of water on all of us for the first act, at which point we were all so thoroughly soaked that it didn't matter that it stopped for the second.
Anyways, after all that excitement, I came home to Michigan. I only had a week to unpack, before we were off to the family vacation in Georgian Bay. Kate joined us for the whole week this year (hurrah!), and brought up her new little boat, the Minnow. The week started out a little
gloomy, with rain and cold not discouraging the small rodent-sized mosquitoes that swarmed if we so much as put a toe outdoors, and not much wind. But the wind picked up, so we got in a fair bit of fine sailing (almost made it out to open water, which is always my goal). On the last day it was *too* windy, though, and it was all I could do to wrestle the Wildcat across the bay. Mary and Kate in the Minnow actually capsized, and were resued by some kind people in a motor boat. No injuries or losses except Kate's waterbottle and Mary's pump, which filled with water and sloshed in ways it wasn't supposed to. However, the pump company came to the rescue, and had a new one to her within 24 hours, delivering it to us on Saturday evening, July 4th. We were impressed.
Shortly after our return to Michigan, I moved into my new apartment in Chicago. It's great! Long and narrow, like most apartments in Hyde Park, it occupies half of the second floor of the building. Previous tenants painted the whole place in various attractive shades (the hall is sage green, my room is a dusty blue), except the living room, which was a dark fuschia. yuck! So Toby (one of my three flat mates) spent part of her summer repainting it with great care: two coats of primer, two of a golden yellow, and now it's a warm, light room, not claustrophobic with dark walls. She and I bought a TV table, so we can use the pre-existing dining table for eating! We also got a nice table for our porch, and got rid of the detritus littering the flat and porch a like, and now everything is neat and usable. In my free time, I scrubbed the kitchen surfaces, which were sticky with the grime of generations of students, and reorganized the cupboards so that things could be found (to quote Kailin, one of my other flat mates, 'It all makes sense now! what a concept!'). We have a built in glass fronted side board in the living room, and that's where I'm keeping the lovely set of china that Kate gave me for my birthday. We all think it makes us look like real people. I also reorganized the pantry, so we each have a shelf, and there's a communal shelf, and no food on the floor, and you can walk in, and find everything, and it's great. Kailin pointed out that the cockroach frequency has been deminishing ever since I started my cleaning rampage. hurrah!
Most excitingly, we have our own dishwasher, clothes washer, and dryer!!! no more saving quarters for me, or not wanting to spend $3 to run a separate cold delicates load! there is much rejoicing.
My room is small, but I've gotten everything to fit nicely, and the size is much recompensed by my having my own full bathroom. this does much, I think, for my sanity, and probably the peace of the apartment. :) Anyways, the apartment is very comfortable, and Kailin, Toby, and I get along really well. We haven't met the fourth person yet, but here's to hoping she fits in.
I came back to Michigan for the Ionia Free Fair in July. That's the county fair that my family has been participating in for ages. I took some cookies, cakes and pies, an oil painting, and my dad and I (with some help from my mum and sister) built a floral display. That is something I've only seen at the Ionia fair: participants are given a plot of grass, about 3ft square, and have to create a display. We've always done the 'Storybook' class, which gives us a clear story to depict. In the past we've done Peter Rabbit, Harry Potter, The Hobbit, and other such winners. This year we did The Secret Garden. We always make almost all of the props, and build, if I do say so myself, a pretty convincing scene from the story. In this case, my dad and I made a brick wall, with a neat marigold bordered path and vegetable garden on one side, and a rose filled 'wild garden' on the other. I made a door, and a wheel chair for the doll playing Colin, and we had dolls playing Dickon and Mary as well. Altogether great, to my mind, with creative use of flowers, but we lost to Duck on a Bike, apparently a thin paperback released by Scholastic, with little or no literary value. The display reflected this: there was a stuffed duck, on a bike, surrounded by potted plants that had no relevance to the display. bitter much? a bit, yes, considering the effort we put into ours. The woman who runs the floral display said that the judge is a florist, who likes 'big things'. like ducks on bikes, apparently. However, my dad and I cleaned up in the baking, taking several prizes each.
Then it was back to Chicago, and my job at the librarary, not worth dwelling on. I shelve books. nuff said.
And now, I am preparing to go live at the Michigan Renaissance Festival to work with the jousters there. This is my first year working this particular job, or living out there, but I have worked at MRF for six or seven years, not counting the many years I went as a child while my parents danced with the Scottish Country dancing team. I'm super excited. I found a big tent on craigslist, so no living in a Eureka four-man for six weeks! I also bought a camp cot to sleep on. luxuries galore! During the week, I will be getting to ride every day, and on the weekend, I will tack up the horses, pick up weapons, and generally be your architypal squire. I'm getting payed to play with horses and wear awesome clothes! score! Anyways, I'm sure I'll have lots to tell, and lots of pictures. Also there are unposted pics from England and this summer, but that'll have to wait til I get back to Chicago.
Until then!

back on the American side of the pond...

Despite all best resolutions, it has been seven months since I last posted. But seven months absolutely *packed*, I assure you.
Let's see, when I last left you, I was shivering in three sweaters, four pairs of wool socks, a hat and piles of blankets. The heating in my building continued to be non-existant for another three or four weeks, and the hot water cut out completely at times. However, once the office people returned, they gave us space heaters, so I warmed up. I also survived my exams. Actually, since I got my results a few weeks ago, I now know that I not only survived, I came through with flying colours. I got firsts (A's) for all of my classes! The hard work really paid off (and I did work really hard).
Of course, as soon as exams were over, new classes started, and it was back to work. I also choreographed the fights for a truly excellent production of Romeo and Juliet with the King's Players. I had a great experience renting rapiers from a very nice company called Hands On. They're based in Glasgow, but if you're looking for props or stunt gear, esp in England, rent from them. They put up with my uncertainty as to whether we would have money for rapiers, and supplied them last minute when, two weeks before we needed them, I found out for certain that we could afford the swords. And then Hands On threw in hangers for free.
That free advertising aside, somehow even without a job (all my applications were in vain), the Spring term managed to be busier than the Fall! Orchestra continued. Socially, I felt very uncomfortable--the music students were very clicky--but musically it was wonderful.
For my birthday, my Halls friends and I went to the pub, and I had a big dinner party for my St. Martin's friends. Which pretty accurately depicts the difference in importance of the two groups for me. :) The dinner was wonderful. Cathy hosted, as ten people would have been hard put to squeeze into my room. I cooked though, starting with bread and my favorite 'stichelton' cheese, a stilton type. Then there was a rich, creamy chestnut soup, followed by coq-a-vin. Dessert was cranberry sorbet (also homemade--sorbets are ridiculously easy and yet impressive), with shortbread. The food was a huge hit, and I loved making all of it and watching my friends eat with gusto. The company was unparalleled. We had witty, interesting conversation throughout the whole evening, no one felt left out or awkward. Altogether a wonderful evening. I love entertaining!
Jacky came to visit me, which was really fun. We went out the first night, but mostly I had to be anti-social and make her explore on her own, or with the other friends she had in London. Busy, as I said.
During reading week, I fled the city, desparate for some country air. I took the train to Exmouth in Devon, and hiked about ten miles along the World Heritage site coastline. It was a beautiful walk, and I had it mostly to myself. I stopped for the Wessel Walker-traditional ice cream in Budleigh Salterton, and then turned inland to catch the bus back to Exmouth. By this time I was ravenous, my picnic lunch being long gone, and some people I asked for directions suggested I try the Mill restaurant in Otterton (where the bus stopped). Otterton turned out to be a tiny, one street town of whitewashed, thatched cottages (aaah the old world!). An elderly gentlemen stopped me to chat in a completely unthreatening fashion, and pointed me to the Mill, the only large building around (except the church). It turned out to have a small art galery (which I sadly didn't have time to explore), and to be big into local/organic food. It felt like it belonged in Ann Arbor, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, they had a minimum charge of £10 for cards, so I scrabbled around in my purse for cash, and was able to afford toasted tea cake with butter (delish!). However, witnessing my predicament, the waiter brought me tea anyways, which was really kind. At this point, I realized that I also would need cash for the bus... and Otterton had no bank or cash machine. Panic! At this point, though, the whole cafe was in on the problem, since I'd asked about a cash machine, and one couple offered to drive me to Exmouth, and a family offered to pay my fare on the bus. I decided to go with that offer, not that I mistrusted the couple who would have driven me, but the bus seemed like less of an imposition. The family was really nice, and just told me to pay it forward. They said they had been in similar situations before, and had been helped out similarly. My overall feeling at the end of this day trip was of the incredible kindness the human race is capable of when it wants to be. Pictures of the red cliffs of Devon are here.
Later in the Spring, Mary came to visit me, and her other British friends. She spent some time being more or less ignored by me in London, as R and J went up at the same time, and then we went to the farm she worked on in Wales. Gorgeous! I love Wales: the hills, gently rolling into craggy tops, the farms scratched on the surface (making life difficult but picturesque), and the common above Tireithen (the farm), with it's semi-wild white ponies, and standing stones. Pictures of that trip are here.
Mary's visit overlapped by a day or so with my parents, who came shortly before Easter. We went to St. Martin's for Palm Sunday, of course, and got to process around Trafalgar Square with a real live donkey! Mama loved that creature. :) The tourists goggled at the sight of a long train of well dressed people of all ages meandering around this busy center, singing along to the Salvation Army band. What fun! This was perhaps the closest I have gotten to feeling like the first Palm Sunday...
We also went to Oxford with John, to see my mum's old college, St. Anne's. We poked around the campus, and then went to the Bird and Baby (Eagle and Child), famous for being the meeting place of the Inklings (JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, Charles Williams, etc). There's even a handwritten note from the Inklings, declaring that the host of the pub was a 'jolly good fellow', and signed by the members. The signeture in careful uncial script was not, surprisingly, JRR Tolkien's, but that of his son Christopher. In retrospect, perhaps that's not so surprising (for the uninitiated, Christopher was the one who has tirelessly organized his father's notes into publishable form, in The Silmarillion, The Unfinished Tales, and the multiple other volumes of Middle Earth's history now available).
During Holy Week, the APs and I hiked a portion of the Pilgrim Trail. We spent a few days in Salisbury, and then walked, over the course of three days, to Winchester. It was a beautiful hike, and we stayed in lovely, luxurious bed and breakfasts each night. That's my kind of hiking! A strenuous day, but ending in a shower, hot meal, pint of ale, and a soft bed. The last day was a bit wet, but other than that the weather treated us very well. In fact, while this past winter was one of the coldest London has seen in a while (the three inches of snow that shut the metropolis down was the most they'd had in *18 years*), this Spring was one of the warmest and sunniest. Pics to come.
We were back in London for Easter. Louise was baptised at the 5am vigil, and as I was sponsering her, duly to St Martin's I went at 5am... a trolling taxi driver seeing me change from my walking shoes into my heels assumed I was tottering home from a night on the town, not tottering out to church after an early night in. :) It was a nice service, begun in the total dark. The readers (of whom I was one) had flashlights, but everyone else sat in darkness. Then we went out to the porch to light the Easter flame. I think this would have been cooler if it hadn't been cloudy, as St Martin's (like all other English churches) faces East, and the rising sun would have shone gloriously into the sanctuary through the big window. However, festivities didn't end with the service: we all trailed down to the parish hall for breakfast, and after that was tidied up, the survivors went for a walk around St James' Park. Then we toddled up to the rector's flat (the top floor in the building just next to St M's, the lucky beasts), for more yummies. Rev. Nick had access to the roof, so those so inclined could go up and get a Mary Poppins view of the city, complete with chimney pots and whispy fog. We were just below Nelson himself! Then the bells rang, right next to us, and it was back to church for the more riotous (and crowded) 10am service. And after that my family went to a pub with John, Natasha and Sasha for a Sunday roast/Easter dinner.
On Monday, before they left, I roasted a chicken for the whole family again, with some veggies on the side, and delicate mousse filled chocolate cups-fussy, but worth it. The meal was a success, but Alexander's reaction to my dorm was similar to mine, and less contained. (ie. he screamed much of the time he was there).
Once my parents had left, I had to buckle down, as exams were looming ominously near. I had two weeks to get it all done, so I continued my Lenten discipline of going to Morning Prayer, and would go straight from there to the library, there to remain until the need for dinner would drive me home. However unpleasant it was to squander the beautiful weather in a dusty nook of the library, this paid off, and once again, I did very well on my exams. and then I was free, with over a month left in London!
For Natasha's birthday, we all went on a hike, somewhere near Aylesbury, and that was great fun, just a group of girls striding through the hills. we played a game where Natasha taped names to our backs and we had to ask questions of the others to figure out who we were. we watched clouds, lying on our backs on a hillside, and Natasha sang us a song that she had written about all of us (someday, when she is deservedly famous, I'll get to say 'I knew her when' and have proof...), and I taught Anne a little hand-to-hand fighting. That last was by a monument on a hill with rather a few startled/concerned onlookers. We might have gotten into trouble for fighting, if we hadn't been laughing our heads off the whole time. The day ended with delicious chocolates in a cafe. Pictures of all this to come!
I went back to Salzburg again, this time for a little longer. Gertraud took me up a mountain with the Seilbahn (cable car), and we wandered around the top for a few hours. Her young nephews, who had come with us, leapt about like mountain goats, while I eased myself anxiously over rocks and down the hills. We even had a snowball fight in a patch of lingering snow! The now very pregnant Maria and I went for a quiet walk in the woods by her house one day. I spent part of the weekend with her parents, and got to go for a ride in the car that her father built. It's a little open, low riding thing they call the buggy, and can only go 100km/h, but since it has no roof, this feels really fast. Georg (Maria's brother) drove me all the way to Salzburg (about half an hour's drive from their village), and on the way back it started to pour, and then hail, so we took shelter in a gas station. That was pretty funny, although perhaps less actual fun. :) Maria's parents took me and Katherina riding, when they realized that I love it so much. The instructer's thick Vienese accent gave me trouble, and she thought I was stupid until I started riding... I showed her, as they say. Although I did have trouble when it came to cantering-used to tough, stubborn cobs, I gave my poor horse a great whack with my heels, and kept the pressure on, only to haul back on the reigns when he flew around the arena at a full gallop, much faster than I wanted him to. Eventually, we figured out the problem, and slowed down to a more reasonable pace. After riding, we went to a Tierparadise, a place where rescued animals go to spend the rest of their days in bliss and laziness. Once back with Maria, she and Ursula and I went to the lake for wading in the sun. Pictures!
I went to Athens for the first time this Spring. I met up with Corrin, who graduated early from the UofC so that she could do a semester at a university in Germany for no credit, before going on to do a PhD at Columbia... she's crazy, but I like her anyways. :) The first day, after meeting at the the airport, we just went to the Temple of Zeus and spent the afternoon catching up. For dinner, the UofC students who were doing a quarter abroad there showed us a lovely little restaurant so quintessentially greek. It was run by one man, who did the waiting and most of the cooking (I believe his wife was in the kitchen as well). There was no menu, he just told us what he had on that evening. The food was amazing! and cheap. he gave us dessert for free as well. Corrin and I ate gyros for lunch most days, which were well worth the calories. On the second day we went up to the Parthenon with our hostess (a friend of Corrin's) and her sister. It was pretty awe inspiring. We looked around at other ruins as well, but at a certain point, one Greco-Roman ruin looks the same as any other, and the heat, even in May, was blistering. So Corrin and I spent a day on the beach at Aegina, one of the islands around Athens. I had squid so fresh, it had probably be swimming that morning, and Corrin ate a similarly fresh fish. it was delish! the sea was warm, and impossibly blue, mirroring the bright bowl of the sky, but the breeze off the water was cool, so it didn't get too hot. 50spf sunblock liberally applied kept me more or less tanned rather than burned. The broad hat and comfortable sandles I bought for the trip also turned out to be the best sartorial purchases I have ever made. Altogether, it was a delightful trip, but I think Athens is the sort of place that is exciting to live, but I wouldn't want to live there.
London, on the other hand... I loved living there. It was with great difficulty that I tore myself away from weekly trips to Borough Market for my groceries, rides on Wimbledon Common (to which I returned as soon as the doctor's commanded two months was up), my friends at St Martin's-not to mention the church itself- and King's, from walks along the Thames, and the ease of transportation with TFL... the list could go on. But tear myself away I did, and now I am back here, where there are many things to delight as well. More on that later, as I think this post is too long already (I'm certainly tired of it, and am sure you must be as well).

I wish you all a good slip into the New Year!

No, I didn't fall down again, which is probably a good thing, in the not-fracturing-my-spine-again line of action. That is a direct translation of a German idiom: 'Ich wunsch euch ein guten Rutsch ins Neujahr!' I love the German way of putting things, like saying 'Ich hab kein Bock' which literally means 'I have no goat', but means that you don't feel like doing something.Anyways, I will get on to what you've all been waiting for... hopefully not with baited breath. ;) News, at least of the Margaretical sort! Once again it has been ages since I posted.
Most importantly, my recovery has gone entirely as planned. It has been just about two months since my injury, which is how long the doctors said it would take to heal. That, combined with the fact that, except for the occasional twinge, I'm not in excruciating pain anymore, is enough for me. I am (finally) getting back on a horse next Thursday!! My sister Kate, who inspired and encouraged me to start riding seriously, is visiting, and we're going on a hack together. I cannot wait. Then I'm taking a week off for exams, before starting regular lessons again.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. When I left you, I was in the midst of midterms, and the theater was just gearing up. I'll start with that.
I did the fight choriography and training for an evening of Woody Allen plays, God, Death, Sex(earning major hardcore points with the cast for training them despite the injuries). I also did make-up and helped with props and costumes. While the time commitment was nothing to University Theater, the organization was proportionally worse for wear, so things got really hectic towards the end. Never thought I'd miss prod staff meetings! But it was fun, and the actors were so polite! that was a real shocker. :)
I went to Paris to visit Caro and Sarah for a weekend, which was awesome. The travel was a bit epic. My alarm didn't go off (or I slept through it, which very rarely happens), so I missed the only bus that would get to St Pancras by 5am, in order to catch my Eurostar train at 5:30. The taxis were remarkably unhelpful, and ofcourse, the tube doesn't run at that hour. I slunk into St Pancras at 5:15, which was too late for that train, but by some miracle, the Eurostar people gave me a free ticket for the next train, even though I had the cheap, non refundable, non exchangeable student ticket. So I was safely on a train to Paris. However, Caro had arranged to meet me... at the time the first train was due. Being clever, clever children, we had not thought to exchange phone numbers. So I contacted all my friends who I thought might be remotely awake at that hour. El got back to me, and I gave her my login info for facebook so she could send a note to Caro. which, sadly, Caro did not get, until she had waited in Paris Nord for several hours. She left at 10:30. I arrived at 10:40. Not even kidding. Just like in the movies, only Caro and I aren't lovers. ;) Anyways, panicking, I found a dodgy internet cafe, where some guy tried to pick me up, but I didn't understand what he was saying, because my en peu Francais does not include pick up lines. I got online, and again, by the grace of God, managed to get in touch with Caro, who had gone home. She came back in to get me, and all was well. Except that the heroic Caro had something between bronchitis and death, and I had a fractured spine. That afternoon, I went to the Louvre, and wandered around it's labyrinthine passages, filled with images I'd studied, and almost couldn't believe I was really seeing. My favorite part was the historical rooms though. Of course, I imagined sweeping through them in (naturally period appropriate) grand gowns, and mentally bemoaned this age of ratty jeans and loose tops. We are expected to fulfill an image much like that held up to women of all historical eras (at least western), without the aids they had, of corsets and ruffles, and crinolines. Obviously, we are freer for that, and have many more options, but could we drop the unfair physical ideal too, please? And I have to admit, I find women's clothing of pre-1920 to be far more beautiful than the stuff we slouch around in.
But I digress. I met up with Sarah and her friend Caroline in the Louvre, before tottering home to get Caro. We all went out to a bar for a while, and were the loud group of Americans, before tottering home again to collapse. On Saturday, I went to the catacombs, which are amazing, if a bit macabre. I recommend them as a slightly off the beaten track, but really cool, thing to see in Paris. In the afternoon, Caro and I nearly froze to death going up the Eiffel Tower. We completely failed twice in trying to get into the line for the stairs, but realizing the second time around that we were just in line for a different elevator, we decided that, our health considered, this was probably a good thing. We made it to the top, enjoyed the view briefly, and sprinted down the stairs, fleeing the cold and the other tourists. It was cool though, because by the time we got to the top, it was dark, and we got a view of the lights of Pari'. Went out again that night with the gang, this time to a place where we were not the loudest. Sunday, I braved the freezing pouring rain to see Notre Dame, which is gorgeous. I was upset by the other tourists though, who had no respect for the holy space. I understand that people come to see the architecture for whom the cathedral is not holy. However, I have been to many churches all over Europe, some of almost equal fame to Notre Dame, and this was the first time that I really felt I could not pray because of the rudeness of the people around me. Is it not possible to have respect for something that is special to other people, even if it means nothing to you? well, I survived. I was much restored by going to Sainte-Chapelle, a hidden gem of almost unparallelled importance in medieval art history. Its architecture is truly revolutionary for its time, with the walls being almoste entirely glass. I went (sadly) on a cloudy day, but the intricacies of the detail of the interior were still worth it. There are two levels, the downstairs, for the servants and lesser nobility, and upstairs for the king and other royalty. Both are stunning. Please, do not go to Paris without seeing Sainte-Chapelle. I was also really pleased with myself for being able to order coffee and a crepe from a cafe in French that was good enough that the waiter deigned to speak French, rather than scornful English. I also managed to successfully ask for directions, although I didn't really understand the answer, which sort of defeated the purpose.
My return to London early Monday morning was uneventful.
At that point, I decided it would be good to try to get a job again, before/during the holiday season, when everyone needs help, rather than waiting til January, when people are being laid off, not hired. I had no trouble, in fact, the fourth place I asked hired me on the spot. I told them about my planned trip to Austria (more on that later), and the limitations of my time by school and visa, but they wanted me anyways. They were closing at the end of December, and just needed me for a month, but I figured it was better than nothing. Boy, was I ever wrong! First off, I had to work 20hrs a week for those first few weeks, and while they were somewhat accommodating of my schedule, I had to promise that after I got back from Austria, I could work more hours (illegally). Also, keep in mind that I was still going to lectures, keeping on top of my work, and spending a significant amount of time at the theater. It was really quite rough. The atmosphere was unpleasant, with snobby, rude tourists and rich people comprising the patrons, and the waiters mirroring that rudeness. I was a hostess, just responsible for seating people, making sure that reservations had tables, but that we maximized the space available. I was good at it too, and at convincing people to take tables they might otherwise not have taken, for example, outside under the heaters, thus getting more people in. Gosh, the wonders of being polite. Anyways, that's all I'm going to say about that job. It was by far the worst job I have ever had. Including Kang's.
In the mean time, we had the orchestra concert, which involved a seven hour rehearsal the Saturday before. Intense, but worth it. The concert went well. Some of us also went ice skating at Somerset house later in the week for a social, which was really fun. Caro visited for a few hectic days, and entertained herself, before dashing off to Spain. At this point, the play went up, and just about went crazy.
But on Thursday, I flew to Wien, and spent a few hours wandering around before taking the train to Salzburg to be met by Maria and her friend Gertraud! I had a wonderful, restful weekend staying with Maria and her boyfriend and his family. They live on a farm outside a small village, Sankt Wolfgang, in the mountains above Salzburg. Absolutely beautiful. As Mama says, I could definitely suffer for the Lord there! And der Familie des Freund Marias (gotta love German... that would have been so much more unwieldy in English) is absolutely lovely. Maria and I went to the Salzburger Christkindlmarkt, and also to Hotel Sacher, where the world famous Sacher Torte originates. We shared a coffee and a slice of cake, because it was a bit expensive for our student budgets. The next day, Andi (der Freund)'s mother took me to see the Krippenspiel, which is a nativity play. The children spoke with such thick Austrian accents, that I was completely lost. But it was cute, and the folk music was pretty. On Sunday, we all went to 8am mass, again in dialect too thick for me, and then I took a nap before joining Maria at the fish stall at the Wolfganerseeadventsmarkt. Oh, I forgot to mention that by this point, the minor cold I'd had for about two weeks had worsened, so I was really sick. But I loved the little Christmas market, which wound its way through the entire village of Sankt Wolfgang. Maria had to work her fish stall, but I wandered around, before being joined by Maria's father, brother, sister's boyfriend, and my favorite 11yo in the world, her younger sister, Katherina. We had a great time hanging out drinking, respectively, gluehwein and Kinderpunsch and nasching. they even got me to try a fish sandwich, which was pretty tasty, considering it was fish. ;) The next day, Maria drove me to the train station, and I took the train to Muenchen, from there to Frankfurt, and Frankfurt to Brussels. There I had planned to wander around for a few hours, but I had not reackoned on the dark, and on being really ill, so instead I huddled miserably in the Brussels train station, trying hard not to cry, until finally, my Eurostar was ready to depart for London. However, the trans-Europe train trip was totally worth it. Not really more expensive than the flights, it was much more comfortable and enjoyable, and I saw so much beautiful country.
When I arrived in London, I went straight to the restaurant to tell them I wouldn't be working in the morning, and to show them how sick I was. Also, my parents had brought me to see the light, and I didn't want to work more than my visa allowed, namely twenty hours, not the thirty I had reluctantly agreed to. However, the manager that night said that I still had to come in the next day to talk to the ueber-manager, thus defeating the purpose of coming in at all that night. I did look at the rota however, and discovered that I had been assigned not twenty, not thirty, but FORTY-SIX hours that week. Which meant I was working some twelve hour shifts. Did I mention that we didn't get breaks? Yeah, so the next morning I went in, not to say I wasn't staying that day, but to quit. For the first time in my life. Evil manager gave me hell about it, but I finally shrugged, said whatever, and stalked off as haughtily as I could muster.
I spent the rest of that week mostly sleeping, and thus managed to recover my health and my equilibrium. Never have I been so at peace with such a drastic decision, even now as I watch the last pence bleed out of my bank account (no worries, help is on the way. theoretically, the restaurant still owes me money, and I get an allowance. I won't starve.). My experience really put into sharp perspective what I want from a job. I do need to get one, but I need to have higher standards. I want to be able to work 10 hours a week and not be pressured to work more (I will eventually give in, under enough pressure). I would like to not work in hospitality for a while, so as not to have to deal with the festering turds that are humans on vacation, otherwise known as tourists. Ok, that's unfair, but some of them can be really awful. Ideally, in my dreamiest of dreams, I would be able to get a job at St. Martin's, as office minion if I have to, but getting paid. I wanted to give them a break after Christmas before asking, but hopefully, miraculously, they will have something. Please keep this situation in your thoughts and prayers. Alternatively, if you know of a job such as I've described, preferably church related, in London, do let me know! :)
I spent the week of Christmas with my friend Amber and her family in Reading. Her mum directs the choir, so I got to sing with them. This made a huge difference, helping me ward off homesickness better. We sang the 9 Lessons and Carols on Sunday, Midnight mass on Christmas eve, and Christmas Day service. I also played cello in the band at the crib service for the kids on Christmas Eve. I ate a ridiculous amount of delish food, and was welcomed into the family completely. It was wonderful. Obviously, homesickness still lurked gloomily in the corners, but we can't have everything. And I got to have two present days, because the Nunns showered me with gifts, and then my box from home was waiting when I got back to London.
Amber and her friends came down to London for New Year's Eve, which was awesome. We partied a bit in halls, before hitting the streets, intending to go to the Student Union club, Tutu's. But we hadn't reckoned with the crowds, and we didn't make it. So instead we watched the fireworks from 100 yards behind the London Eye. Yup, that's right folks, I was there. That moment they showed on TV while waiting for the ball to drop in New York, of midnight around the world. I'm sure they showed London, with the amazing fireworks show off of the Eye. I was in that screaming crowd at it's foot, making my only new resolution: to learn how to make fireworks. Then we were amongst the first to surge, or rather wobble across the newly opened Waterloo bridge, and make our way up to Tutu's. There we partied with some 600 other people, dancing until early in the morning, when my old ladiness kicked in, and I had to go home to bed. That ranks pretty high amongst the best NYE celebrations I have ever had.
My room is bright with Christmas cards and decorations, and my two new calendars. However, it is also freezing, almost literally, because my heater is not working, and my window is drafty. Thank God it doesn't get as cold here as it does in Chicago. Also, the hot water is being dodgy, in and out all week. Not fun.
In upcoming events, I'm cooking dinner for Kate, John, and Natasha, and will finally get to meet my nephew on Tuesday. Hurrah!
Less happily, exams approach like a freight train running loose down a mountain. I'm doing my best to prepare, but I'm a bit terrified, to be honest. So a few prayers there wouldn't hurt either. ;) I hope you all are well, and I wish you a blessed and wonderful 2009.

and now for your latest weekly catastrophe

...at least, that's how it's felt for me for the past few weeks. As many of you, my dearly beloved readers, are also on facebook, you may have noticed that I lost my job and fractured my spine in quick succession. Altogether, it has not been a fantastic few weeks, to say the least. Here's the longer version of the story:
Two weeks ago, I went into work, and was informed that my manager was getting in trouble for how much he was spending on payroll. Now, this is ridiculous, because we never had too many people, at least not on the shifts that I worked. Sadly, as previous experience has taught me, the people up there who do not have to do the extra work caused by under-staffing never seem to care how many people are actually needed, and it is the easiest budget cut. Of course, I, as the newest, and I believe only part time person was the obvious choice to go. Thus, I lost the first job that I have ever liked. To replace that job is not just to replace the income, but to try to find somewhere nearly as enjoyable. I will probably have to make do, sadly.
At anyrate, as midterms were bearing down on me, I decided to put off looking for a new job. I have enough money to get me to December on a reasonable budget, and while I'd like to have a bit more security, it's nice to know I don't have to panic.
Which is a good thing, because a week later (last week), I got thrown during my riding lesson. We were trotting home from the arena, I was chatting to one of the others and not paying particular attention. I lost my left stirrup, and as I maneuvered to get it back, Jacques, the horse I was on, spooked. I'm not entirely sure what he did, but it resulted in me lying in the ditch trying to breathe and figure out the damage. After a few minutes I was able to get up though, and despite excruciating pain, decided to get back on, to minimize fuss and reassure myself at my own ability to ride (it had been a particularly bad lesson as well). I made it back home, and on the advice of another rider, an emergency room doctor, took paracetamol and codeine and iced my throbbing back. Even though none of this seemed to help, I continued in my general policy of making light of these things. It usually feels better that way, at least emotionally. Plus, I figured at worst, I'd done some muscle damage. However, when the pain had not abated on Sunday, I decided to go in to the hospital, primarily, in some ways, to reassure my less complacent (and hence more intelligent) friends. After the usual several hour wait in the emergency room, a doctor poked my back and took some x-rays, which showed, much to my chagrin, that I had fractured at least two vertebrae. whoops. I sat around for another hour before the orthopedic doctors came and saw me. They gave me the option of going home, but said I really oughtn't to, as, not knowing the extent of the injury, and supposing it to be unstable, any wrong movement could paralyse me. Also, going home would have meant a week long wait for a CT scan. So, I acquiesced to staying, and was condemned to complete bed rest. It took a while for me to realize what that meant, namely, no getting up, no getting down, no goofing around, to quote my mother, for any reason. I was to stay prone, sitting up to no more than 45deg. And yes, that meant bed pans. What a lesson in humility! Also, for someone who does her best to be self sufficient, being completely reliant on others to bring things was frustrating and embarassing. I survived however, and had a CT scan in the morning. The results came in the late afternoon, saying that I hadn't damaged the bone around the spinal column, so I was free to move around. Joy! It took another four hours for them to get the pain meds for me and discharge me, but then I was allowed to go home, on the strict injunction not to go to lectures this week and not to ride for two months.
The heroes of this story are Becky, who not only waited for 4 hours in the emergency room with me on Sunday, but also came back to bring me necessities later that evening, and spent another four hours or more waiting with me for my discharge on Monday, to walk me home. Hannah brought me chocolate, mineral water and coke, and spent several hours entertaining me on Monday. She has also been the most regular visitor in my less restrictive home bed rest, along with Mary. Georgia helped with bringing my stuff over on Sunday, and waited while they remembered where they'd left me. Lisbeth spent several hours visiting me in the hospital on Monday, brought me two large gooey delicious cookies, and helped me bake an apple pie on Tuesday, before my poor apples gave up the ghost. and made applesauce with the remaining apples. Thank you sooo much, guys!
I think it is only just starting to sink in, just how close I came to seriously and permanently damaging myself. Now, for a sensible person, this would mean that I would consider dropping some of my more dangerous activities, but I can't wait to get back on a horse. That's the other thing I'm just realizing... how bleak the next two months will be without riding. My finances will be happier for it though.
The rest of my life is quite dull in comparison. schoolwork continues. I did a bunch of extra reading over reading week and this week of my convalescence. I have recently been battling with the monster of academic bureaucracy over getting an extension, which is much more complicated than in the States. sigh.
In good news, I have found a real spiritual home in St Martin's in the Fields. It is the friendliest parish that I have ever been to, and the service, with it's old fashioned hymns, and activist, liberal-leaning sermons, is exactly what I look for. I have joined the 'Twirties' (twenties and thirties) group, and the choir director has agreed to lend me a hymnal with music (most just have words). Every Sunday, several people have come up and introduced themselves and welcomed me. Last Sunday, two women even took me out to lunch, as I had no money on me at the time! So kind of them.
Anyways, despite the catastrophes, the past few weeks have been great! Hopefully they will continue so, only sans catastrophe. :)

Autumn

On an afternoon like this, the pale, bright light of the sun turns the wind-shattered surface of the river brilliant and blinding. Every so often a cloud pulls across, and the river becomes silver, but still bright. The buildings are sharp and clear against the backdrop of the sky. Today it is definitely Autumn, with a strong wind and a chill in the air. I kicked through the piles of leaves that accumulated on the South Bank walk below Westminster Bridge, but they were all brown. I miss the fire of the trees in Michigan, where each leaf seems like a work of art, and the whole world is filled with such a variety of color, unlike any other time of year. I miss apple cider and pumpkins.
I never thought of these particular aspects of Autumn as especially American. They are not usually included on patriotic lists. They should be, because Michigan's Fall might be the only thing I miss about the country itself.
I also miss my family, my cats, and my friends. That's a little more expected though.

woah! a post!

I should probably be doing my reading, but I was so excited that the (very slow and cranky) internet in my dorm actually let me sign on to my blog that I figured I should sit down and finally post. I've been here a month already and haven't written! well, part of that was not being able to sign on, but I have found the settling in process quite stressful. however, that process is almost complete, and my life is wiggling down into it's routine, which I like.
I really love this city. It is so full of diversity and history, and there are all these landmarks that I've heard of for my whole life, and then I actually see them. I live in Lambeth, (on the grounds of the palace of the Arch bishop of Canturbury, for the Anglicans amongst my readers) which is on the South Bank. I'm minutes away from the London Eye, about 10 minutes from Waterloo station, and across the river from the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey. I can hear Big Ben from my bedroom. Just think about for a minute. I remember, growing up, when we stayed at my grandparents house, my grandfather's clock chimed the Big Ben tunes. I never slept very well, and I used to listen to it in the middle of the night. So I didn't think much of it the first time I heard it here, until I realized that it was actually the *real* Big Ben. woah. My walk in to campus is along the South Bank. It might be quicker to go through the streets, but not much, and would be much less pleasant. My favorite part of the walk is crossing Waterloo Bridge, because it affords an amazing view of the city in either direction. It never fails to cheer me up, if I'm stressed. I look to one side, and see Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and other grand sights. To the other side I can see the Gurken (Swiss Bank building, I think. it looks like a rocket about to launch), St Paul's Cathedral, the National Theater, etc. I am planning on taking photos of my walk in soon, and I'll link to the album on Facebook here. My least favorite part of the walk is forcing my way through the gaggles of tourists around the London Eye. There is nothing in this world less considerate of other people than a tourist.
I love the university. I only have 8 hours of class each week, and although this is partly made up with reading, I would so much rather be working on my own, self-motivated, rather than being talked at by a lecturer. Also, I have no papers until finals (no worries, I'm already thinking about them, I won't put them off), so that makes everything seem easier. My "Literature of the English Revolution" class is surprisingly one of the best. It was not high on my list of choices, but the professor is truely excellent, and leads the best seminar of all of my classes. Irish Liturature is more interesting reading-wise, and the lectures are alright, but in seminar, the professor definitely plays favorites, which is annoying. Well, either favorites, or just calling on/paying more attention to the people he's taught before. The Victorian Lit professor is by far the worst though. Which is a shame, because I like the reading (depressing as it is). But she deliberately calls on people to make everyone talk during discussion, which is so high school. People end up blathering about nothing, just so she'll leave them alone. On the other hand, if you come up with a point she hadn't thought of, she will disregard it completely. We read Tennyson's Maud last week, and I pointed out that lines 464-5 "[He]/Gorgonised me from head to foot/ with a stony British stare" has an interesting reversal in that the person being stared at (the narrator) is the one being turned into a gorgon (he is gorgonised) by the stony stare, rather than the gorgon's stare turning the other to stone. This makes a lot of sense within the context of the poem and the relationship between the two people. However, she completely rode over my comment, without allowing any discussion of it, and said I was wrong. she always makes you feel like you've said the wrong thing, whether she agrees or not. Ah well, I will survive. Anglo Saxon is a real disappointment though. Because I have a lot more experience in this sort of thing, and my knowledge of German, I have a head start on the rest of the class, and find it quite boring. The professor told me to relax this term and take her Old English Poetry class next term, which will involve dropping something else. I would rather just do extra translation now, and not waste my time. Also, I don't want to dishearten the rest of my class by seeming bored, when it's not that I'm better at it (at least, I doubt that I am), I just have previous experience.
Still, I like studying here so much. I think I will find it very hard to go back to Chicago at the end of the year, even though I miss my friends.
Everyone here has been very friendly and welcoming. I have at least two quite close friends already, and a large group of more general friends. No worries of me becoming a recluse here. :) Cooking is always pretty sociable. Cozy, in fact, because our kitchen is about 4 foot square, so it gets crowded. I am happy to say that because I refuse to feed myself crap, I have inspired some of my friends to rise from the swamp of ready meals. Sadly, there are a few itinerate lazy people who scoff at my need for real food, and persist in eating the equivalent of wonder bread or pasta for every meal. Their loss.
I did get into the orchestra, in the end, despite totally bombing my audition. Of course I'm right in the back, but everyone in front of me is studying music, and I'd rather not have the pressure. we're playing "Night on Bald Mountain" and "Sheherazade", so I have been practicing, because they're quite difficult pieces. I have made contact with theater people, and am supposedly doing both costumes and fights for a Woody Allen three play evening in December, and R and J in March. Both directors, while extremely enthusiastic about my help, have been a bit lax about things like... getting me the script, talkign about ideas, etc so I could actually get to work. I've started to be more persistant about the show in December, and will let her know that I do need a certain amount of time, or I'm off the show. Have to be firm, or something like that. :) Anyways, all the usual activities are falling into place, and I'm taking riding lessons at a stable in Wimbledon. So far they've been not so much lessons as just rides, but it's so beautiful, and I'm just ecstatic to be able to ride! It's (sort of) affordable, and I love it so much. Plus it forces me to get out into what is basically countryside once a week, which is great.
To pay for my expensive habit and taste for fine food, I have got a job at a classy pub on the Strand, right by campus, across from the Royal Courts of Justice. I really love it so far. Granted, this was only my second day, but still. Anything where you can do a six hour shift and come home and still love it, is pretty good. I make £6/hr, with a likely raise in a few months, get 3 weeks paid vacation, and the boss is really flexible about moving or cutting back on hours. Currently I'm working 15/wk, which has been fine so far. I'll cut back if I need to though. Also I get free food while I'm working. Free amazing, would-be-expensive food, I should say. :) Works pretty well for me.
I went to St. Martin's in the Fields for church today. I picked it because it has a 10am sung Eucharist, unlike the usual 11 or 11:30, so I could go and get to work by 12. Also, it's very convenient both to my residence hall and the pub. And I loved it! It's a medium sized congregation made up primarily of older people (most of the people my age are in the choir), but that doesn't bother me. The service was BCP, and the hymns were traditional. Exactly my kind of place. The priest is a woman, and the (male) vicar preached a decent, if rambling, sermon this morning. I think I have found my parish home, which is a huge relief.
I haven't done much touristy stuff yet, but I went to a London Philharmonic concert on Wednesday, and London Burough Market yesterday. Both were really amazing.
Well, I'm sure there's more I could write about, but I'm really losing steam, and have to get on with my work. Suffice it to say that I love it here. :)
Miss you all though! To bad