Or in my case groan in pain, but we’ll get to that later. Boy, did I have a busy day today! Where to start? Oh, I know! My schedule, or more like the list of bookshops I was going to check out. In my defense the only set thing I had was my obligatory theatre visit tonight. And the weather was gorgeous! Seriously, after last night I thought I’d be in for the chills. But no sir! I guess all the fireworks warmed up the sky?
I left the hotel bright and early and confident that I could face my immortal enemy with no problem. And what is my immortal enemy you might ask? It’s a different every other week but high on the list is always public transport. I mean seriously! Good luck figuring THIS out:
Hello! My name is Map and I am here to help you get lost faster and more efficiently.
There are two kinds of getting lost in my book (well, three if you kind my wishful thinking towards certain entities). There is the “shit I’m lost and I’ll be late” kind and then there is the “let’s walk through whichever road I fancy” kind. Today I had the dubious pleasure of experiencing both. First because I misread the aforementioned map and nearly boarded the wrong train. (And then nearly good squashed against the doors because rush hour). I have to give kudos to the disemboded announcer guy at Kennington station for directing traffic with the words: “Please move to any empty spaces to the right, it will make life easier for everyone.” And that is verbatim. Keh! Londoners are sassy!
I guess even dear old Will needed a break from all the writing…
Eventually I made it to Leicester Square and the closest Starbucks for a much-needed sugar rush. The seasonal specials were just out today. Oh eggnog latter, how have I missed you! Thus armed I proceeded to get myself lost in this gorgeous part of London. -sigh- Why can’t I afford to stay here when I’m visiting? I generally don’t feel comfortable in large cities. I find them suffocating, all moody people, tall buildings and convoluted public transport (looking at you, Northern Line). Oh sure, I can appreciate the culture and shopping variety but only for a few days. Then it’ll be (happily) back to my small town with its manageable bus routes, its walkable distances and gentle teasing from a certain someone who can’t wrap his head around the idea that a smaller town can be as much (or even more) fun as a larger one, coughCardiffcough.
The neighbourhood is called Seven Dials, don’t ask me why.
See? Seven dials! Then again it IS the theatre district. Poetic licence?
I had made a list of a few bookshops I wanted to check out but honestly it was a more “let’s see what we’ll see” day. I ended up walking all the way to the British Museum, through the theatre district and Soho. Along the way I stopped at Mysteries and Treadwell’s (yes, these are bookshops), did a little shopping and let me tell you, good thing I’m on a limited budget (and luggage space) or I’d still be there going through books…
On a slightly irrelevant note, both my flatmates and I are international students. We have this running theory that if you are staying or visiting a foreign country you will end up magically gravitating towards other people from your own country. Since I bump into Greeks at the weirdest places, I’m pretty sure there’s a sociologist out there that could probably prove this. It came therefore as little surprise when, after leaving Treadwell’s, the first shop that caught my eye was called The Life Goddess and was -you guessed it!- a Greek deli place. Shoutout to them, their meat pie is to die for! (and I take my pie-tasting very seriously!) I’ll probably go there again tomorrow, their cheese looked really good and it’s been a while since I have had graviera (look it up!).
Oh, why can’t you be in Norwich?
So anyway, by then my feet were starting to hurt and my sugar rush was long gone. Back to Leicester Square via Trafalgar Square (because I could) and back to the hotel. I’d barely kicked my shoes off when my phone went Ding! Lo and behold the latest (and last) Naruto chapter was up.
WARNING: FANGIRL SPAZZING FOLLOWING
I will keep this spoiler free but OH MY GOSH IT WAS AWESOME! AND I HAD SOOOOOOO CALLED SOME OF THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED! AND DAMN MY SHIPPING IS CANNON! WORD OF GOD, MARRIAGE AND BABIES CANNON! TAKE THAT YOU NON-BELIEVERS! -mental happy dance complete with twirls and imaginary confetti-
FANGIRL SPAZZING OVER
-ahem- Yeah, usually I try not to be so vocal (keep telling yourself that) but I get so rarely to see a pairing that I like being cannon that it’s an extra treat when it happens. And in this chapter I got four. Four! Practically gift-wrapped! I haven’t felt this much fangirl-glee since the last episode of season 6 of The Mentalist aired.
Past my fangirl fantasies being fulfilled (alliteration!) I also had the stage performance of Les Miserables to look forward to. It was…interesting to say the least. I mean, the musical itself was awesome, the cast amazing and -snif- Javert is firmly placed on my hug-at-first-sight list of fictional characters (I also have a glomp one and a shoot one, but that is a subject for a another post). But getting to the theatre… Oh I was all excited, was even going to wear my new, comfortable-ish stilettos, my hair co-operated on the first try, it appeared that there was nothing rotten in the state of Denmark (or the Olde London Town as a matter of fact). And then somebody Up There (or Down There, or Around Here) decided that I had had too much fun. Cue the artfully hidden by leaves pothole. Cue the sprained ankle and the half mile trek on heels. I’ve a high pain tolerance and I was still ready to cry by the time I made to the theatre. At least the performance made up for it, and the weather held out on the way back, because if I ended up having to limp with a bad ankle, on twelve-inch heels, under heavy rain… Let’s just say this post would have been on a more uncharitable nature. As it is I will leave you for a hot bath and an eight hour sleep before I head out to take London by storm again.