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hathycolFirstly, if I am on MSN and appear to be ignoring you, I'm not. It's acting like a crazy thing and logging me in even though I can't see it. STRANGE AND WACKY.
Anyway. As promised, here is my long and winding tale of my weekend in London, with some intermittant pictures. Oh, you lucky people. I bet you bless the day you wound up having me on your flist.
Some pictures under the cut, but not many, as well as my mildly exciting tales of adventure!
I woke up bright and early, revelling in my lie-in - I got until 7.30am! The fact that I now consider this a lie-in is a bit depressing, to be honest. The thing is, when I'm looking forward to going somewhere, I spring out of bed in a manner not unlike a sleepy gazelle. Ah well, a lie-in is a lie-in. After 45 minutes of showering and scrounging around the house, I managed to locate all the stuff I needed, and Mum very kindly took me to the train station in Ormskirk.
I do so love having a Young Persons railcard.
However, I love of Magabus less. I couldn't find where I was meant to get on the bus, and when I did, I was re-directed to the other side of the Adelphi hotel. I looked all studently and indie-trendy before I got on the bus, having scrounged a jacket off my mother and combined it with my favourite jeans and jumper. Ah well. I made the bus, though, and then proceeded to try and sleep.
God, I forgot how much I hate cramped and horrible bus journeys. To make matters worse, we stopped at Stoke and lo! I got stuck sitting next to the fat kid. This wasn't an ordinary fat child. This was a fat child with noisy toys who took up all of his seat and a third of mine.
Bits of me that shouldn't click were clicking by the time I got off that bus.
Fortunately, Andrew always has been and remains a gentleman. He met me off the bus (after a bit of wandering around trying to find each other) and took me back to where he lives, in New Cross Gate. I have to point out that my mum had been somewhat frantic that day before I left. She was a bit convinced that I was going to be kidnapped by some sort of organised work gang which would then fund terrorism, and given Andrew's constant jokes about living in the ghetto, I was, um, feeling a bit northern.
God knows why! He has such a lovely house! I was thoroughly jealous, as his room bigger than the size of my kitchen at university. It is, however, up the Hill of Death, which I was less amused about.
We then went to see the sights of London. By the sights, I mean the free one, and by that, I mean the National Portrait Gallery. I actually really enjoyed it - we wandered around, I got excited about history, we laughed at how ugly most of the Beatles were... it was all good. We then proceeded to traipse back to his house and get a big curry takeaway.
GOOD TIMES.
Saturday! This was my Day By Myself. Except, in the end, the best laid plans of mice and men, etc, etc. I woke up gloriously late and just lay there, listening to the sounds of London. Andrew had gone hours previously to work, so I just listened to the traffic and remembered how much I liked London.
After what felt like an hour battling with his Victorian shower, I changed my mind a little bit.
I traipsed back down the Hill of Death, with a heavy bag full of what I needed for the day and a spring in my step. One Day Traveller ticket later and a long amount of time battling with a combinaion of overland trains and the Tube, I made it to the British Museum. I bought a bagel with cream cheese from a cafe down the road, and sat in the sunshine outside, happily eating my breakfast and reading my dodgy historical novel.
OMFG. The British Museum. Just... oh shweet lord, why have I never been before? I think I may have gone to heaven when I saw the Reading Room:
The next exhibit after that was one on a comparison of Life and Death is different cultures. It was actually really fascinating, with huge great statues and carnival costumes and generally colour and light.
For example, this is from a Polynesian tribe to represent a positive spirit. I find it terrifying, but then, I'm from a religion where we worship a zombie.
Then there was this, which I thought was beautifully carved; apparently it is from the South of Canada.
Further wanders at my own luxurious pace took me to this. I don't know why, but I think this snake is just fab.
It was at about this time that Simon phoned me. Due to his, um, interesting injuries, he was for obvious reasons not at the rehearsal, so we met up. Despite him looking, well, ill, I still love the reunion bit, because god, these two weeks felt like forever.
I have no photos of Simon. This saddens me.
However, together we went to the exhibit on the Enlightenment. Due to a shiny amount of painkillers, Simon was happy enough to listen to me waffle excitedly and go at my pace.
LOOKIT AT THE BOOKS.
MORE BOOKS. I LIKE BOOKS.
Why is Zeus in an exhibit about the Enlightenment? Because this was the point that we learnt that stealing relics from other cultures was an acceptable thing to do!
A nifty wee statue of an Indonesian god.
Scary Indonesian god, who is apparently a protector. I'd trust him to protect me, if only to stop other people from eating me while he fattens me up. (What you can't see on the picture is the pointy pointy teeth.)
I am not so hot on the classics, so I wandered around the Greek and Egyptian bits going "Oh. Pretty. HEY WASN'T THAT ON STARGATE."
After this, Simon was flagging more than a bit, and I felt guilty for dragging him around. As such, we went for a long and leisurely meal before darting off to the Albert Hall. After arguing with a guard for a bit, I managed to get in and change very quickly into the clothes I'd spent all day trying not to smoosh up in my bag. I do not, alas, have a picture of them or the Albert Hall.
OR the hobo that was sat in front of me. No, really.
(The Proms, for those that don't know, and I'm one of them, are a festival for classical music which deliberately cheap seats. They takes place at the Royal Albert Hall, which is a magnificent rounded building in memory of Queen Victoria's husband, Prince Albert.)
I was sat in the circle, which is right around the top, and I could only see about half the orchestra. (I wouldn't have been able to see Simon, it turns out.) Musically, it was very good - I don't know any of the pieces, but I was suitably stirred, and I enjoyed the Prom atmosphere of Classical Music For Dummies. It's nice to say that I was there for at least one of them!
In the second half, however, as mentioned, a hobo wandered in. He sat down, complete with bags of alcohol, until the steward challenged him for a ticket. Cunningly, he managed to spin it out until the orchestra came on, and then they couldn't move him. They did take his bottles of gin away, though.
DRAMA AT THE ALBERT HALL.
I said goodbye to Simon afterwards,a nd met up with Andrew, and we went for a drink with some of his workmates. They were nice people, even if, um, completely and utterly posh.
This was my day to leave, but because it was so late, Andrew and I went around Camden Market. I was very very good about spending money, though, although I could have easily blown my entire overdraft there. The clothes! The stuff! The pretty! It was just... it was a bit like the museum, actually; a riot of colours and smells and sounds that I just wanted to get lost in because it was so alien to what I know. I'm very, very provincial, really; I come from a small market town and I go to uni in an even smaller town. I'm not consistently surrounded by new cultures and tastes, or at least when I am, they've all been thoroughly Westernised. This was new, and this is why I like London a lot.
I had an Aim, though, in Camden Market. I've wanted a corset for a while, and have been soliciting advice about it from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sevenhelz (I found Fairy Gothmother, Helen!) and dragonlady7. Unluckily, though, corsets are expensive and I am poor. I gave up after a while, until I wandered past a market stall.
I stopped.
I looked at them.
I got offered a corset for £20. I went "BY GOD SOLD" and then flailed about which one. In the end, I went for this:
It's not a proper corset, I have to admit, because I can't afford anything that's truly going to train me up. It does, however, give me excellent pose and m,akes me flat in the places I should be and curvy in the others. It's also absolutely lovely and quite comfortable. All in all, I'm over the moon about it. I want to get back to Scotland and wear it! (I don't want to wear it out in England; smoking in bars, remember?) I was going to camwhore in it, but then I realised that would make me my sister.
Andrew, apart from being an utter gentlemen, is also very poor. Ho also does not like having his photograph taken.
I bought him lunch before we went off to find my coach. Which, due to my idiocy, we were an hour early for. Instead, we sat in Grosvenor Gardens on the yellowing grass, and enjoyed the sun. A bit too much in my case; I got burnt for the first time all summer on my shoulders. Eheu!
The bus journey back, though, was hell. No air conditioning, and I was stuck in a place where I got none of teh breeze from the windows. I think I would have coped with the deathly nausea and the feeling that I was going to die was it not for about 7.00pm, when people started to eat. There was a Middle Eastern family opposite me eating this foul smelling food (I say that now; without the nausea, it would have been quite interesting, but all I could smell at the time was spices and grease) and befoe I knew it, I was legging it to the back of the bus to be sick.
This went on for the next four hours, until we got to Stoke and I stole a seat that had a breeze from a window, and that helped me be better.
I AM NEVER TRAVELLING BY BUS AGAIN.
I made it back, though, and as a result of having thrown up everything I'd eaten for the alst twenty-four hours and having had a train journey to recover, I had fun eating a lot of toast when I hit the house again.
Lastly, here is a picture of my dog looking a bit scary. He is cute, he just doesn't photograph well.
Today, I have been at work and I have also spent the afternoon very gently curled up with Simon watching The Talons of Weng-Chiang. Bizarrely, I thinkit's fab, except for when I cry with laughter at a. Leela and her Eliza Doolittle thing b. THE GIANT RATS and c. the white dudes playing all the Chinese characters. The script is delightful, though; I laugh along and can't follow the twists and turns. Yay! Etc.
Now, however, to bed. I MISSED YOU FLIST. *hugs*
~Hathy_Col~
Anyway. As promised, here is my long and winding tale of my weekend in London, with some intermittant pictures. Oh, you lucky people. I bet you bless the day you wound up having me on your flist.
Some pictures under the cut, but not many, as well as my mildly exciting tales of adventure!
I woke up bright and early, revelling in my lie-in - I got until 7.30am! The fact that I now consider this a lie-in is a bit depressing, to be honest. The thing is, when I'm looking forward to going somewhere, I spring out of bed in a manner not unlike a sleepy gazelle. Ah well, a lie-in is a lie-in. After 45 minutes of showering and scrounging around the house, I managed to locate all the stuff I needed, and Mum very kindly took me to the train station in Ormskirk.
I do so love having a Young Persons railcard.
However, I love of Magabus less. I couldn't find where I was meant to get on the bus, and when I did, I was re-directed to the other side of the Adelphi hotel. I looked all studently and indie-trendy before I got on the bus, having scrounged a jacket off my mother and combined it with my favourite jeans and jumper. Ah well. I made the bus, though, and then proceeded to try and sleep.
God, I forgot how much I hate cramped and horrible bus journeys. To make matters worse, we stopped at Stoke and lo! I got stuck sitting next to the fat kid. This wasn't an ordinary fat child. This was a fat child with noisy toys who took up all of his seat and a third of mine.
Bits of me that shouldn't click were clicking by the time I got off that bus.
Fortunately, Andrew always has been and remains a gentleman. He met me off the bus (after a bit of wandering around trying to find each other) and took me back to where he lives, in New Cross Gate. I have to point out that my mum had been somewhat frantic that day before I left. She was a bit convinced that I was going to be kidnapped by some sort of organised work gang which would then fund terrorism, and given Andrew's constant jokes about living in the ghetto, I was, um, feeling a bit northern.
God knows why! He has such a lovely house! I was thoroughly jealous, as his room bigger than the size of my kitchen at university. It is, however, up the Hill of Death, which I was less amused about.
We then went to see the sights of London. By the sights, I mean the free one, and by that, I mean the National Portrait Gallery. I actually really enjoyed it - we wandered around, I got excited about history, we laughed at how ugly most of the Beatles were... it was all good. We then proceeded to traipse back to his house and get a big curry takeaway.
GOOD TIMES.
Saturday! This was my Day By Myself. Except, in the end, the best laid plans of mice and men, etc, etc. I woke up gloriously late and just lay there, listening to the sounds of London. Andrew had gone hours previously to work, so I just listened to the traffic and remembered how much I liked London.
After what felt like an hour battling with his Victorian shower, I changed my mind a little bit.
I traipsed back down the Hill of Death, with a heavy bag full of what I needed for the day and a spring in my step. One Day Traveller ticket later and a long amount of time battling with a combinaion of overland trains and the Tube, I made it to the British Museum. I bought a bagel with cream cheese from a cafe down the road, and sat in the sunshine outside, happily eating my breakfast and reading my dodgy historical novel.
OMFG. The British Museum. Just... oh shweet lord, why have I never been before? I think I may have gone to heaven when I saw the Reading Room:
The next exhibit after that was one on a comparison of Life and Death is different cultures. It was actually really fascinating, with huge great statues and carnival costumes and generally colour and light.
For example, this is from a Polynesian tribe to represent a positive spirit. I find it terrifying, but then, I'm from a religion where we worship a zombie.
Then there was this, which I thought was beautifully carved; apparently it is from the South of Canada.
Further wanders at my own luxurious pace took me to this. I don't know why, but I think this snake is just fab.
It was at about this time that Simon phoned me. Due to his, um, interesting injuries, he was for obvious reasons not at the rehearsal, so we met up. Despite him looking, well, ill, I still love the reunion bit, because god, these two weeks felt like forever.
I have no photos of Simon. This saddens me.
However, together we went to the exhibit on the Enlightenment. Due to a shiny amount of painkillers, Simon was happy enough to listen to me waffle excitedly and go at my pace.
LOOKIT AT THE BOOKS.
MORE BOOKS. I LIKE BOOKS.
Why is Zeus in an exhibit about the Enlightenment? Because this was the point that we learnt that stealing relics from other cultures was an acceptable thing to do!
A nifty wee statue of an Indonesian god.
Scary Indonesian god, who is apparently a protector. I'd trust him to protect me, if only to stop other people from eating me while he fattens me up. (What you can't see on the picture is the pointy pointy teeth.)
I am not so hot on the classics, so I wandered around the Greek and Egyptian bits going "Oh. Pretty. HEY WASN'T THAT ON STARGATE."
After this, Simon was flagging more than a bit, and I felt guilty for dragging him around. As such, we went for a long and leisurely meal before darting off to the Albert Hall. After arguing with a guard for a bit, I managed to get in and change very quickly into the clothes I'd spent all day trying not to smoosh up in my bag. I do not, alas, have a picture of them or the Albert Hall.
OR the hobo that was sat in front of me. No, really.
(The Proms, for those that don't know, and I'm one of them, are a festival for classical music which deliberately cheap seats. They takes place at the Royal Albert Hall, which is a magnificent rounded building in memory of Queen Victoria's husband, Prince Albert.)
I was sat in the circle, which is right around the top, and I could only see about half the orchestra. (I wouldn't have been able to see Simon, it turns out.) Musically, it was very good - I don't know any of the pieces, but I was suitably stirred, and I enjoyed the Prom atmosphere of Classical Music For Dummies. It's nice to say that I was there for at least one of them!
In the second half, however, as mentioned, a hobo wandered in. He sat down, complete with bags of alcohol, until the steward challenged him for a ticket. Cunningly, he managed to spin it out until the orchestra came on, and then they couldn't move him. They did take his bottles of gin away, though.
DRAMA AT THE ALBERT HALL.
I said goodbye to Simon afterwards,a nd met up with Andrew, and we went for a drink with some of his workmates. They were nice people, even if, um, completely and utterly posh.
This was my day to leave, but because it was so late, Andrew and I went around Camden Market. I was very very good about spending money, though, although I could have easily blown my entire overdraft there. The clothes! The stuff! The pretty! It was just... it was a bit like the museum, actually; a riot of colours and smells and sounds that I just wanted to get lost in because it was so alien to what I know. I'm very, very provincial, really; I come from a small market town and I go to uni in an even smaller town. I'm not consistently surrounded by new cultures and tastes, or at least when I am, they've all been thoroughly Westernised. This was new, and this is why I like London a lot.
I had an Aim, though, in Camden Market. I've wanted a corset for a while, and have been soliciting advice about it from
sevenhelz (I found Fairy Gothmother, Helen!) and dragonlady7. Unluckily, though, corsets are expensive and I am poor. I gave up after a while, until I wandered past a market stall.I stopped.
I looked at them.
I got offered a corset for £20. I went "BY GOD SOLD" and then flailed about which one. In the end, I went for this:
It's not a proper corset, I have to admit, because I can't afford anything that's truly going to train me up. It does, however, give me excellent pose and m,akes me flat in the places I should be and curvy in the others. It's also absolutely lovely and quite comfortable. All in all, I'm over the moon about it. I want to get back to Scotland and wear it! (I don't want to wear it out in England; smoking in bars, remember?) I was going to camwhore in it, but then I realised that would make me my sister.
Andrew, apart from being an utter gentlemen, is also very poor. Ho also does not like having his photograph taken.
I bought him lunch before we went off to find my coach. Which, due to my idiocy, we were an hour early for. Instead, we sat in Grosvenor Gardens on the yellowing grass, and enjoyed the sun. A bit too much in my case; I got burnt for the first time all summer on my shoulders. Eheu!
The bus journey back, though, was hell. No air conditioning, and I was stuck in a place where I got none of teh breeze from the windows. I think I would have coped with the deathly nausea and the feeling that I was going to die was it not for about 7.00pm, when people started to eat. There was a Middle Eastern family opposite me eating this foul smelling food (I say that now; without the nausea, it would have been quite interesting, but all I could smell at the time was spices and grease) and befoe I knew it, I was legging it to the back of the bus to be sick.
This went on for the next four hours, until we got to Stoke and I stole a seat that had a breeze from a window, and that helped me be better.
I AM NEVER TRAVELLING BY BUS AGAIN.
I made it back, though, and as a result of having thrown up everything I'd eaten for the alst twenty-four hours and having had a train journey to recover, I had fun eating a lot of toast when I hit the house again.
Lastly, here is a picture of my dog looking a bit scary. He is cute, he just doesn't photograph well.
Today, I have been at work and I have also spent the afternoon very gently curled up with Simon watching The Talons of Weng-Chiang. Bizarrely, I thinkit's fab, except for when I cry with laughter at a. Leela and her Eliza Doolittle thing b. THE GIANT RATS and c. the white dudes playing all the Chinese characters. The script is delightful, though; I laugh along and can't follow the twists and turns. Yay! Etc.
Now, however, to bed. I MISSED YOU FLIST. *hugs*
~Hathy_Col~
no subject
Date: 2006-08-07 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-07 10:20 pm (UTC)Mebbes your dog thinks there might be toast behind the camera.
I can get a train that gets me in just before 4 or just before 5, which would be best?
And also how long can I stay for - do you want me gone on sat,or can i stay till sun etc?
no subject
Date: 2006-08-07 11:09 pm (UTC)Take care darlin,
Han xXx
no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 04:07 am (UTC)I can never quite figure out the chronology/geography of your posts but I agree entirely with the sentiment. :) I was only in London once very briefly and so have no idea, but I lived near New York a long time and I know what you mean about cities that have fresh influxes of other cultures and other places and other ways of thinking and you know, sort of lives of their own in that massive collective sense you can only get from truly massive cities.
And congrats on not blowing the entire overdraft at once. And also congrats on your fortitude at not being a camwhore, even though I admit a bit forlornly that I promise I'd still respect you in the morning. But you must do what your conscience dictates!!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-08 09:09 am (UTC)You trip sounds very fun. My older sister has performed at the proms before, we have it on tape I think, it looks very good but I couldn't go see it with my parents.
x
no subject
Date: 2006-08-09 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-09 04:47 pm (UTC)Get in for just before five! There's no way I'll make it for four.
You can stay for Saturday night, if you like - there is a Plan for Saturday involving dragging you into Liverpool, but you can stay on Saturday night because I know that EDinburgh is a long way away by train. :-)
no subject
Date: 2006-08-09 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-09 04:50 pm (UTC)No camwhoring! I will probably, however, camwhore away on Friday night - I have a Plan involving the corset and a pair of hair straighteners, and the combination will override my conscience.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-09 08:19 pm (UTC)xx