Huzzah! I’m alive! Well sort of. I’m still sick but full of mediciny goodness so now I just feel ill and not like I’m actually dying. I’m also in a slightly less sketchy Internet cafe today because I didn’t feel like being sold to white slavers.
Yesterday I went to the Tower of London and heard many gruesome stories–it was great. Then I saw the Pet Shop Boys in the moat, which brings up a weird mental image if you don’t know that the moat is empty now. Obviously the Pet Shop Boys were fantastic, at least that’s what I (and the crowd of screaming middle aged gay men) thought. Was I the only straight person there? No. Was I the youngest? No. But just about, on both counts. Anyway, the weather was good; it cooled off in the evening in time for the show, which was nice since apparently they’re having a heat wave. Lucky me.
Today I dragged myself out of bed for the least inspiring breakfast I’ve had since I was last at a UU youth conference. If you can imagine a machine that would suck every single last molecule of moisture out of a piece of toast? Yeah, they have that. There were also corn flakes and some dodgy looking fruit cocktail. The breakfast ladies don’t speak English, so getting milk was a challenge but eventually I did a sort of pouring motion over the cereal and they got what I meant. Good thing, too, because the next step from there is miming milking a cow, which I imagine could have looked quite rude. If they are, as I suspect, Russian I might try a little of my vocab on them if I feel desperate enough to get up for breakfast again. I do at the very least know how to say “milk” and “please.”
So after that I bought some postcard stamps and began the somewhat confusing trip out to Hampton Court where I did the hedge maze (oldest in England or something like that) in five minutes. I’d have felt really proud but I saw a thing online about the trick to finding the center and I wanted to see if it worked. It does. Hampton Court itself is very large and impressive and full of over-the-top tapestries and oddly disturbing topiary. It’s one of those places that has been around long enough that it’s had bits knocked down and added so that it doesn’t really mesh anymore, but the overall impression is still grand and regal and reminds you to hate the rich.
I wanted to check out the London Eye today but have decided to save that and do something indoors instead. It really is just obscenely warm and despite all the sunscreen I can feel myself burning. I imagine if I’d skipped the sunscreen I would have just burst into flames the minute I stepped outdoors. Why did no one tell me that England has no ozone layer?
So now I’m off, possibly to the portrait gallery, possibly just to write some postcards. I’d consider hiding in my room and watching the BBC, but you know what? Most BBC programming? Kinda’ sucks. The first night the best thing on was about the guy who brought lap dancing to England. Last night? Documentary on “John Holmes, the Real Life Dirk Diggler.” I will say this, good lord they can show a lot more on British TV than they can on American TV! And on that note…
I hope America is running smoothly in my absense. Oh wait, it wasn’t running smoothly when I was there. Oh well. Hope America isn’t running less smoothly than when I left!]