in Sherwood Forest there are bandits
Nottingham. Nottingham is, or at least seems, larger and busier than Leicester. We drove through just in time to catch everyone heading out for a night on the town, apparently the thing to do. Phillip's aunt and uncle live in a lovely neighborhood near Sherwood Forest. And by lovely, I mean filled with large, stately houses that are alarm-secured and worth far more than their US counterparts merely by value of age. Here I will note that both of the houses in which I stayed were very much everything I anticipated British houses to be like. They felt British on the inside in the same way a beach condo feels like a beach condo, if that makes sense. At any rate, the family were all astonishingly polite and very nice. Now, I definitely felt the difference when it comes to politeness. Realize this is coming from someone reared in the Deep South. Politeness is different here, though. It's all much more formalized, habitual, and almost deferential. A single sales transaction can lead to three or four "thank yous"--from the clerk. Oddly though, no one says "Bless you," when you sneeze and children all say, "Yeah" rather than "yes," something my mother would have given me grief for as a child. Haha. In addition to "thank you," proper polite responses might be "brilliant," "cheers," or "lovely." It does lead me to wonder what feelings are really rumbling behind all the politeness at times. Of course, I wonder that about Southerners from time to time, as well. I haven't yet discovered if there's a UK version of "Bless your heart." haha.
The day in Nottingham consisted of a double-decker bus ride, a little wandering through Old Stuff (wherein I read markers describing said Old Stuff), eating a ridiculously old pub, the Trip to Jerusalem, which opened in 1198. Yep, 1198. It's also built into the caves under the big rock on which sits Nottingham Castle. This one isn't the original, which was destroyed (excepting the walls), but a super big manor (basically) built to replace said destroyed castle. We looked in the grounds but did not enter as I wasn't particularly moved to pay the fee based on the time we had allotted to see it. Aside: Nottingham is super excited about the latest Robin Hood movie. Don't know if that persuades you to go see it, but they're promoting the bejesus out of it, for what it's worth. After this, we meandered over to the train station to meet Phillip's friend Eben (the 'e' is pronounced like 'Evan,' not as I had presumed like 'Eden.' So get it straight. Hah.) After some silliness that nothing to do with me this time, we were joined by another friend, Dylan. More wandering commenced as well as a nice diversion through Nottingham Contemporary. Finally, we dispersed, and Phillip and I headed back to get me packed off to the train station myself.
This was an interesting experience largely because I must admit to great intimidation and trepidation regarding setting off on my own. Also, some random guy decided to move over near me and hit on me. I'm not sure if it was in spite of what I'm sure was apparent misery or because of it. Haha. Ok. Misery is a strong word, but still. Fortunately, when I switched trains, he did not. I arrived in Manchester quite late and settled in to sleep, plotting my next day's adventure all the while.