Alrighty. Finally, Day 5. Sheesh. I do apologize, my readers, for taking such a long, drawn-out time to write this chronicle. I have only the excuse of feeling uninspired to write on which to fall back, and it is a sorry excuse, indeed.
Continue reading "because all good journeys must end in time" »
Saturday dawned bright and early, and yet we did not. haha. Saturday was to be another late-morning start, but no mind: this was an architecture and absorption day. Exiting at Charing Cross, we made our way down the Strand. Our goal was to see the Royal Courts of Justice and the Temple. We ended up being partially thwarted in our design, but that is far a later part of this blog.
Walking down the Strand, we passed a few landmarks of note. The first was the Savoy, a 120 year old Edwardian and Deco hotel known for its luxury. This was a partial success: we were able to glimpse inside, but not able to go in as the hotel has been closed for reconstruction. It's set to open in October, to much aplomb, I'm sure. At any rate, I did wish that I could have seen the interior as the glimpses I got were stunning. Another time. Further down the block is King's College. Notable alumni of King's College: Desmond Tutu, John Keats, Thomas Hardy, Virginia Woolf, and numerous influential politicians and leaders, among others. Furthermore, the nursing school started by Florence Nightingale is a part of King's College. Across the street is Somerset House, a beautiful neo-Classical building used for both performing and stationary arts exhibits. Before long, we arrived at the Royal Courts, a building I would never have guessed to be the courthouse had I been guessing. The Victorian interpretation of Gothic architecture reminds one more of a church complex than a courthouse. It's very impressive, and I would have enjoyed going inside, but we were thwarted by the early closing down of all things legal on a Saturday.
Continue reading "oh the establishments of time, civilization, and toys" »
Day three was going to be busy. I awoke super excited about one of the plans: seeing the Scottish Play at the Globe. *excited giggle* The day would be filled with other fun and exciting things, though. We started mid-morning (The rather late night on Thursday did not lend itself to early rising. haha) We began at the Old Street station which had a rather interesting, spread out exit situation due to the rather spread large traffic circle situated above. A few blocks down Old Street (And past the only gas station I noticed while in London), and we arrived at De Santis, an amazing Italian place, for some carry-out. (I will take a moment here to meet a comment I feel coming already: technically, I should've written "petrol station" and "take-away." :-P) This section of town felt rather suburban, actually. It was really the only section of London that felt particularly that way in all the days I was there--or at least like the typical American mid-city suburb. I suppose the presence of the gas station helped with that perception. Previously, I had only seen gas stations on the motorways, and then I'm sure I saw less than 5. At any rate, after gathering our to-be-eaten lovely carry-out, we traveled down the street and around the corner to Smithfield Market, London's largest and oldest meat market. Due to the sleeping in a bit, the market was done for business that day, yet, it was quite impressive. I failed to take any pictures, however, a fact I blame on the container of pasta I was holding at the time. :-) The Market is very large and very sophisticated, really. The Victorian design details are almost unexpected on such a pragmatically used building.
Continue reading "an architect, a playwright, and even more art" »
After my introduction to London Landmarks, Inc., it was time for a little something with more local flavor. I would like to insert here that the Oyster card system is much more confusing for guests than the MetroCard of NYC. Let me explain: the MetroCard offers the lovely option of buying a week's worth of unlimited travel, regardless of where in the city you travel, including on buses. All bus trips and subway trips cost the same (except for express buses which cost a little more). So, even if you decided on a pay-as-you-go card, the fare deductions are fairly simple. Fares in London aren't nearly so simple. Like a toll road, fares vary based on what zones you travel through: more zones mean higher fare. Now, a Day Travelcard is offered. But trying to figure out whether it's cheaper to pay for a Travelcard or just load money on an Oyster card gets complicated since it all depends on where you might be going and how many trips you might be taking. Granted, there is also a daily fare cap that kicks in on the Oyster card to try and prevent users from spending more than they would with a Travelcard. But again, the fare cap varies based on the zones you travel through as you make your many Underground trips. So...complicated. In the end, for the sake of simplicity and on the rather vague recommendation of a Transit worker, I went with a regular old Oyster card. I will say the top-up system is very smooth and pleasant to use. Following the purchase of a card and addition of monies to said card, we headed northeast to Camden Town.
Arriving in London, I headed toward the hotel to drop off my bags as it was too early to actually check in. My meeting with Phillip was delayed due to his over-sleeping, but I managed to entertain myself by walking around Notting Hill until his train arrived at Paddington. Afternoon number one began with a walk through Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park. Kensington Palace itself is rather forbidding. Made entirely of red brick, it rather reminded me of large, industry-magnate estate home in the northeast, or of the buildings in Williamsburg, VA. Next to the palace are two items of interest: the Orangery and the Round Pond, a man-made pond filled with water fowl and surrounded by relaxing Londoners. But back to the Orangery for a moment. This is a lovely, very swanky restaurant. The customers were very obviously quite financially comfortable, even well-off; however, I had to laugh when I noticed two very large Golden Retrievers flopped under a table inside the building at which was sitting a rather well-to-do middle-aged couple. The other man-made water feature of the park is the Serpentine, a 28 acre Lake/River that spans both Kensington and Hyde Park. At the head of the Serpentine is the Italian Garden, a lovely sculptured area of statuary and fountains. The most beautiful and compelling of all the fountains in the park, though, is the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain. Alas, I completely failed to take a picture of it. Of course, the only way to really experience it is to be there. The fountain is a sort of abstract mobius that flows up and down the hill on which it rests. It also holds a small, medium-depth pool at the top. "Why," you ask, "does it contain a pool?" Very simply because the fountain is open for public enjoyment. Really. You can take off your shoes and wade your way around it. It was fantastic. I also blame my absolute wonder and enjoyment at wading through the fountain on the fact that I didn't take a picture. haha. Again, what I found interesting was how much of both Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park is manicured. That said, I was delighted to find some "ok, well, we'll let this part grow a bit wild for you" places within the Park. It really is quite an interestingly aesthetic place. (random factoid: Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park together are just about 200 acres smaller than Central Park in NYC.)
I arrived at the Oxford station mid afternoon to discover something quite helpful: the YHA is right next to the station! Of course, that meant train noise at night, but by that point of the trip I was pretty resilient when it came to noise at night and open windows. haha. It also meant that finding/getting to the YHA was quite simple. The Oxford YHA was quite nice, as well (though some kitchen items, like the electric kettle, did need some cleaning.). After checking in and getting some necessary banking done to prepare for London, I went out to find the city center and the information office. Oxford is a very busy, very pretty, very college town. I believe I mentioned in the Leicester post how I was surprised at how it didn't feel like a college town. Oxford definitely does. Now, don't get me wrong, it feels very Ivy League, but it is definitely a town dominated by the presence of the university. This is too be expected based on the history of influence and autonomy that Oxford had on the area, its economy, and its politics. At any rate, I wandered about a bit, acquired a map and some pamphlets, found a grocery, and eventually headed back to the hostel in time to make some food, have a cup of tea, and catch the World Cup game. Since the nice television is in the lobby, there were a number of people (quite diverse people, actually) watching the game. Before bed that night, I took out my map of Oxford and plotted the next day's course. My goal, as mentioned in my last journal was to photograph as many of Oxford's colleges as I could. Ambitious, I know.
Continue reading ""i wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember"" »
My journey from Salcombe to Salisbury was quite drawn out. I had to take a bus back north since there is no train to the coast. That was to be expected, though, as I had had to take the bus down. Fortunately, I had done all my route planning prior to arriving since the hostel had no internet access (This was the only hostel where I encountered this. It was not unpleasant, though, just glad I had already written down all the transit times I needed.) As I mentioned in my last blog, travel on Sunday can be quite different than other days of the week--fewer buses and fewer trains. In this case, it meant there are only two bus trips from Salcombe to Exeter: 11.30 am and 5.30 pm. Needless to say, if you miss the first bus, your plans are significantly set back. haha. I, therefore, planned to not miss that bus. After a lovely breakfast with lovely conversation, I gathered my things and headed down for the ferry. I was terribly glad to not have to walk my bags all the way back into Salcombe, Cliff Road or no. The ferry ride was lovely. I arrived in plenty of time to make the bus, so I stopped for some juice, a magazine, and a little pastry-breakfast. Then I headed to the bus stop to wait. I shared the wait with three rather typical (and amusing) middle-school boys. It was entertaining to eavesdrop on them as I read my magazine. (Oddly, the layout and typeset of the UK InStyle is slightly different from the US version.) Now, although I could take the bus just to Totnes and catch a train from there, I would have to wait over an hour at what amounted to a platform. Not really my preference. Therefore, I asked the bus driver if this bus went all the way to Exeter, or if I had to change. He gave me a weird look. But seriously, Sundays are odd; I wasn't sure. He said I could ride all the way to Exeter, so I did. The fare difference about evened out, and I didn't have to wait a long time on a bare platform. The drive was lovely. Again, Devon countryside is beautiful. The roads, however, are thoroughly insane. I'm pretty sure that bus drivers there have to be moderately crazy. Roads are often quite narrow with blind corners and close walls. There were several times I held my breath in suspense at the driving. It's like being in a recklessly driven NYC cab on a roller coaster. Really. At any rate, I arrived at Exeter St. David, grabbed a sandwich and a coffee, and waited for my train. Onward to Salisbury.
Continue reading "ancient clocks, tall towers, and mysterious stone circles" »
I left Plymouth greatly looking forward to my two full days in Salcombe. Unfortunately, I was to face unexpected obstacles before finally getting to rest. Getting to Salcombe was a little more involved than my previous trips had been. I began by taking the train from Plymouth to Totnes. From Totnes, I would take a bus to Kingsbridge and then another to Salcombe. The schedule was tight, with only minutes between each change. Fortunately, I caught the bus at the Totnes station right on time. In fact, I had just walked off the stairs and stepped into the parking lot when the bus pulled up. At Kingsbridge, I had about 10 minutes in between arrival and departure which enabled me to take a quick breath and relax...for a minute or two. haha. The bus trips were really quite nice and the scenery very beautiful. Riding through the Devon countryside is a lovely experience.
From Bristol, I made my way to Plymouth. I left the train station and passed through the city center on my way to the hostel. Following the signs for "The Hoe" (the section of town where it was located) I soon found the street where it was supposed to be. The problem occurred for me because whoever numbered the streets was...well...insane? Rather than the numbers going uniformly from lower to higher from one end of the street to the other with odds on one side and evens on the other, I discovered (about 25 minutes after I started) that the numbers went up one side of the street and back down the other. And to top it off, they were divided into sections: one section on one side of the park and one on the other. Thus, when I arrived at Citadel road, I started by going to the right. The number for which I was looking was 172. As I walk down the street, I check the numbers and see it going from 166 then a few buildings and 162. Logically, I assume this must mean the higher numbers are on the other side of the park. I turn around and walk back the way I came, continuing on down this side of the road. When I get to the other side, I see the numbers: 201, 202, 203. What on earth? Where on earth is this place? Growing slightly frustrated, I decided to retrace my steps. What else was I going to do? I check the other side of the street as well since I've now decided that logic must have abandoned whoever numbered the street. Sure enough I realize what's been done: the numbers start on the west end of the north side of the road, go up to the park and then continue up the south side of the same section of the road. The portion of the road east of the park is a completely different section of numbers. Because that makes sense. At any rate, I finally found the hostel and rang the bell (the door was electronically locked). Finally, the door was opened, and I was able to drop off my bags and go explore.
I can't say too much about Bristol since I ended up spending the majority of my time in Bath (about which I will ramble on in a bit). I did find myself surrounded by a sense, that I never did shake, that it's a city about which no one really cares. I felt that way almost as soon as I stepped out of the station. This was the first time I walked out of a train station to see several abandoned buildings in a row. Of course, I had passed a few abandoned buildings in Liverpool, but here they felt different. Here they felt somehow dead, as though the buildings themselves had given up hope. And while Liverpool abounded a sense of pride and love for the city, Bristol felt like a city imbued with apathy. I didn't like it. Bristol is not a city in which I would like to live. I definitely preferred Liverpool.
Continue reading ""Bath is a charming place, sir; there are so many good shops here."" »
I can honestly say that I was surprised by how much I liked Liverpool. Not that I thought I wouldn't like it, but I didn't expect to like it so much. Liverpool has a quality that is difficult to pinpoint (more on this later). I had quite a pleasant walk through it on my way to the hostel to drop off my bags.
First goal: to see the Metropolitan Cathedral. Now, I will admit that seeing the outside was not all that inspiring at first. I stood for awhile looking at the modernistic structure wondering how the inside of this was going to work. In the foyer, a history of the development of the cathedral gives some insight into the various stages of design and development. Basically, the first several designs were nothing like what was eventually built. Still skeptical, I stepped inside. I found myself absolutely astounded by the completely non-traditional beauty that overwhelmed me. This cathedral, more than any other I have seen, was designed for light. Without the typical nave, quire, and apse structure, the cathdedral is able to give full play to significant amounts of light that stream through the stained glass that surrounds the building. The most spectacular use of stained glass occurs in the representation of the Trinity in the tower, but the rest of the walls are laced with glasswork of incredibly beauty. True, the building and its iconography are still modern and so not to everyone's taste, but I found it at turns solid and delicate, and truly lovely.
I don't have a whole lot to say about Newcastle upon Tyne, really. It was pleasant, but didn't offer too much in the way of things to explore or examine. If I had more time/a car, I could see the Newcastle would be a good base for treks about Hadrian's Wall. As it was, though, I enjoyed my day in Newcastle, but the only real thing that I was able to explore was the Great North Museum. That said, the Great North Museum was very interesting. There is an excellent overview of the cultural histories of the area, of the construction and society surrounding Hadrian's Wall, and the animal life in the area. Since I was largely unfamiliar with the flora and fauna of the area (weasels are much smaller than I had imagined), this was pretty intriguing. I did meet a girl and her dad who had cycled across from the east coast. He was a British immigrant to Canada and she (born and raised in Canada) had been transferred to Bristol for her job. They were both kind and interesting, and I had a nice tea, dinner, and breakfast with them. Jen also offered to meet me for a drink or dinner in Bristol, but I didn't take her up on the offer due to my utter and complete exhaustion by the time I got there. haha. At any rate, my moderately uninteresting day in Newcastle was certainly made up for by my exquisite two days in Keswick.
Edinburgh is full of win. This, I must say, was my favorite stop (excluding London from all rating systems since...well, it's London). I found Edinburgh to be interesting and really lovely. My first stop after arriving at Waverly Station was the Tourist Information Center to grab a map and get directions to the YHA. Ok. Actually, my first stop ended up being waylaid to a Victoria Jackson makeup promo table in the shopping center that I ended up traipsing through because the tourist info sign was misleading. After I brushed that off to the disappointment of the lovely girl trying to sell me £120 of makeup products for the unbelievable special deal of £30, (It really was a great deal, but I couldn't see spending £30 on makeup right then.) I made it to the Info Center, enjoyed some random Scottish piping and dancing, and withdrew money from the nearby ATM. At this point, I learned something very interesting: in Scotland, each bank prints their own notes; therefore, you could any combination of very different looking notes because they are issued by different banks. Let me tell you, it gave me a second's panic when I was standing in line and realized the £5 note the guy in front of me was holding was completely different from the one I was holding. It also made receiving change fun, though, as I got to look and see the different designs and banks. Very strange experience, that. Well, I checked into the YHA, dumped Superduffle, and proceeded to explore. I meandered through Princes Street Garden for awhile, which was lovely. It wasn't always so lovely, though. Before there was Princes Street Garden, there was
Nor Loch. Nor Loch had become basically a cesspool thanks to centuries of sewage draining down the hill from Old Town, so it was drained. In the 1820s, Princes Street Gardens was built, followed 20 years later by the addition of Waverly Station. The gardens are beautifully manicured and quite peaceful.
Continue reading "on the bonny, bonny banks of...Princes Street Gardens" »
My excursion to Kendal actually took place between Manchester and York, but the entry was unfinished earlier. There you go.
Spent the day wandering around Kendal. Seriously, I am at rather a loss to explain the incredible beauty the surrounds this town. Even in the misty rain, it was stunning. Trekked up to the Castle Howe where the first castle at Kendal was built. Only the walls and embankments are left on the Howe, but it's easy to see why it was chosen. The spot provides a clear view of all the surrounding countryside. After this, I trekked around to the remains of Kendal Castle. This required quite the haul up a rather high hill. I mean really high. And wet. Had I not already been fairly damp, I would have crossed over into dampness during the uphill trek. At any rate, the remains and the view were quite impressive. Basically, it was a walled fortress that contained a manor house, cellars, small armory, tower to house the noble family, and the yard. It was probably built in the 12th century. From what was left, it was easy to see that this would have been fairly impressive sitting atop its hill. Eventually I trekked back down to wander about the town and its surroundings. I wanted to go to the museum there, but apparently it's not open on Tuesdays. Ah well. I satisfied my with visiting the Museum of Lakeland Life and Industry. This turned out to be more interesting than I expected, actually, featuring some really fun walk-through displays of different parts/places in Kendal's history. I also visited the Holy Trinity Parish Church there which was both very old and very lovely. Eventually, I took my damp self back to the hostel to dry off and charge various batteries. Not long after I returned, my two charming roommates also returned and invited me to dinner with them. I accepted, and we had a lovely evening. They were both British which led to some fun comparing and contrasting. I caught up on my internets and went to sleep fully intent on getting up, showering, and having a nice breakfast before departing on the train. As it turns out, if you have the volume turned down on your iPod, you can't hear the alarm. I woke up in tome to get up, dress, and just make the train. No shower or breakfast for me. Not as much fun as my intended morning. Nevertheless, I made the train and departed for York.
Arrived in York around the same time as a group of bus tourists. That was interesting as they all seem (groups of bus tourists, that is) to do a fantastic job of filling up the sidewalk and walking slowly whilst also milling about vaguely. I, on the other hand was trying to find the info center and shortly thereafter the youth hostel so as to drop off Superduffle and then enjoy the town. Thus, I was fighting significant feelings of impatience regarding the bus tourists. Haha. At any rate, I did manage to get to the youth hostel in a fairly timely manner (it was a small trek, really.), leave Superduffle, and carry on with my visit. My first stop was a sandwich shop for a really nice (and two-meal sized) club sandwich. After this nice little lunch, I proceeded to the York Minster. This is an incredible bit of architecture. The largest minster in England, it dominates the town. Inside, one can wander for hours enjoying the incredible craftsmanship and detailed beauty. Even better (you get two awesomes for the price of one, there), underneathe the Minster is a history of the site with bits of the original Roman basillica visible.I found it all to be quite well done and very interesting. Then, I meandered down to Clifford's Tower, but wasn't really interested in paying the fee to see the interior. I did take a picture of it, though. I had a lovely stroll down the river and then found my way to Jorvik. Now, Jorvik was the Viking settlement in York after the Romans. In fact, though I don't remember reading it anywhere, etymologically, I'm fairly certain that York derives its name from Jorvik, rather than the Roman name which was Eboracum. It was slightly pricey to get in (£8,95...and this after I paid about that much to get inti the Minster...not as much as I would eventually pay to get into Edinburgh Castle, though.), but it was a really neat experience. The trip begins with a small waiting room that's plexiglass floor is suspended over a mock archaelogical dig. It can be a little disconcerting to walk on it, but it's really well thought out. The walls contain short videos and digital "posters" that explain the history of the dig as well as the history and setting of the site that has been extrapolated from the artifacts unearthed. Now came the part that I wasn't expecting at all (yes, I did read up on Jorvik before going, but nothing really mentioned this part): a ride in moving carriage deallies through a model portion of the village. It was quite well executed with background sounds, narration the interacted with several of the animatronic Vikings, and well designed models that captured well the sights, sounds, and even smells of a Viking town. After the ride potion ended, there were sever areas to walk through filled with not only artifacts from the dig, but also contextual settings for them and sometimes explainations of the archeologists' work. I was really drawn in to the history involved added to the history I had gleaned at the Minster. York is reall a fascinating place. I almost went on a ghost tour, but decided I had probably spent enough money in one town already. Haha. York was more tourist-filled than any town I'd yet been to, even more than either Kendal or Nottingham, but it was quite lovely, nevertheless, and I could see spending several days there, especially considering the thing in the surrounding areas of Yorkshire that I was unable to see.
Manchester is undeniably an industrial town. It's all heavy stone and hard edges. I set out a little early and headed towards the town hall. Manchester's town hall is, it turns out, a famous piece of architectural standing by Alfred Waterhouse. It is, indeed, very impressive. It's a pretty impressive edifice, really. Since it was a bank holiday, though, I did not get to tour the inside. For those of you who are wondering, bank holidays are basically just regularly scheduled national holidays for which they failed to come up with significance, so they just called them "bank holidays" which worked because banks were closed for them. Museums are generally open on bank holidays, though, which was good for me. First, I made my way to the Museum of Science and Industry. This museum demonstrates and chronicles the history of Manchester and the rise of industry there. Of particular interest: a floor of working cotton refining and weaving equipment, a walk-through timeline of the city, and an underground timeline of the development of water and sewer systems. There is also a room of engine development history from hydraulics to steam to diesel. A short walk across the road brings you to the section devoted to vehicles. I found the building far more intriguing that the contents. That's no real fault of the Museum, though but rather a result of having been to the Naval Air Museum and the Smithsonian. And, granted, aerospace industry isn't really what Manchester is all about.
Continue reading "Manchester: more than a football team. Really." »
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.
First weekend. So the British Museum is vast. That's really the only way to describe it. As in "I spent over five hours in this place and just realized I haven't seen an entire wing of it" vast. I was astonished, and it was right up my alley. It's something like a cross between the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Smithsonian with extra added awesome. I do have pictures, and I will upload and post them soon. I rather wish I could attach my camera cable to my iPod. Alas, I cannot. It was quite an intense experience for this museum nerd, seeing things like an Easter Island moai, a part of a stele with Hammurabi's Code, part of the Epic of Gilgamesh (!!), and the actual-honest-to-goodness Rosetta Stone. That's right folks: the Rosetta Stone. Apparently, the benefits of effectively owning big chunks of the globe means you get the cool toys for your museums.
All right. Here goes the account of my journey thus far. I will try to be orderly and work through in a mostly chronological manner excepting a brief (sort of) notation of things similar and different that I have noticed. That part should largely work itself, though, I would expect. And now, off we go!
I packed almost nothing until Wednesday afternoon and evening. I also overpacked. Sigh. I suppose this being my first really major (longer than a week and a half) trip and first trip to a completely new place, that's understandable. Now that I'm in the midst, though, I realize I could've easily honed my inclusions enough to fit into my usual little green suitcase instead of this big wheelie duffle. Ah well. Thursday, Mom drove me to the airport as I pondered everything, hoping I had all I needed and regretting my inability to pack. At the airport, I checked in and got to use my passport for the first time. Awesome. After the hour flight to Houston (because of course it makes sense to go west in order to travel east...), I proceeded to my next gate following my typical proceedure of checking every single display to make sure I end up at the right gate. I did find the gate. I also discovered that it's good to read the whole gate display as I learned about 10 minutes after I arrived that I was supposed to verify my passport at the desk. No harm no foul, though, and I was soon all set to board my flight for London.
I found myself seated next to a lovely Scottish lady. She and her husband were returning to Scotland from Houston where their daughter and son-in-law live. We had a very pleasant chat and then I settled back to enjoy my choice of movie from the seat back: Sherlock Holmes. In all, despite my best intentions, I may have managed two hours sleep spread throughout the flight. This made things fun. Haha. After a fun three or four loops around, we landed at Heathrow, and I proceeded through Customs, retrieved Superduffle, figured out the trains, and proceeded into London.
Once there, I spent an undue amount of time wandering and wasting time, largely because I am a silly goose. We'll largely skip that part. Haha. I did also discover that not only am I bad at packing only what's needed, I'm bad at arranging it as well, the result being several pitched battles between me and Superduffle before I managed to overcome my silly goosery and find the Left Luggage service that I needed. At that point, I was able to proceed luggage-free to the British National Museum for the large part of the day. And with that, I offer an intermission.