Saturday, 22 October 2011

I've had too much cider

Two nights in row I ended up in two different Wetherspoon's.  They're cheap, but when you're eating the merely adequate food you're thinking - why?  Why is this going in my mouth?  It looks like food, it smells like food, it feels like food, but the taste isn't worth the trouble.  But lemme tell you the old folks crowd in there.  Perhaps they serve a lot of food pre-chewed.

Over the last week-ish I've managed to convince someone that I'm awesome so she'll let me live in her cool flat that's only a short walk from class and all sorts of great stuff.  My school (should I call it uni so I fit in?) is in a fantastic area.  The walk to the British Library only takes about twenty minutes as well.

Saturday, Meghan and I met with a couchsurfing group and had an informal tour of a section of London I hadn't spent much time in before.  It started in Canada Water and ended near Millenium Bridge (you know, the one that was destroyed in HP6).  We wandered around the South Bank area and saw lots of interesting stuff, like the first tunnel dug under water.  I may go back to that little museum for a bit longer.  The tunnel is still used for the London Overground (not sure how that makes sense).  Met a bunch of people from a bunch of countries, and left with a new Italian friend.

Sunday, I saw the place I'm now moving into in Angel.  Later, hung out with the Italian near Picadilly Circus (you know, the supposed Times Square of London).  Had some good pizza, but it was no (original) Ledo's.

On Monday a couple American classmates and I almost won a pub quiz at the Boadicea.  This is quite a feat, considering we had no Brits on our team and everyone else in the pub was British and the questions often have much to do with British crap (who knew :P).  It was the newspaper swimsuit we had to design and create that saved us (2nd place for 3 bonus points), and then the music section really helped.  The musical questions I knew were that Prince wrote the song "Nothing Compares to You," Sir Paul McCartney's middle name is Paul (thanks to Gene), and Madonna's real name is Madonna.  I need to get back to listening to Newspod so I can get the current events questions right.

Tuesday, I had delicious Sri Lankan mutton curry in at the Apollo Banana Leaf in Tooting with Meghan, Hannah, and Paul.  Wednesday, Meghan and I went to lovely pub in Tooting and I (apparently) insulted an Irishman.  All I did was make a joke about the Irish hating the English.  Can someone please tell me if this is no longer true :P  He insulted librarianship as a profession (he said his job was even more boring than ours).  I don't know why one party is expected to have a sense of humor when the other clearly doesn't.  Thursday was the Wetherspoon's in Angel with a bunch of City U law students.  One asked me if I was a first year (ie 18!).  And last night we spent in Croydon with one of Meghan's former flatmates and her coworkers (all teachers at a Catholic school).  A great time, even though the second pub / club we went to (The Ship) played their music (metal / rock) waaaaaay to loud.  I haven't turned my music down on public transportation so much that I can barely hear it only to have my hearing destroyed by music I have only a mild appreciation for.  Time will tell.

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

happy canadian thanksgiving

That's what I was up to on Sunday, thanks to Meghan.  I also went to this awesome flower market and the Geffrye Museum with Hannah.  It was a really good day.  I need to get a camera!

Yesterday, I found myself jumping over a wall because I came out of the wrong door of an apartment building.  I suppose the flat hunt has been an interesting form of sightseeing.

Thursday, 6 October 2011

hey zeus

Looking for a place to live is getting me down.  It's hard to figure out what's suitable when I don't know where anything is or what it's like.  I send message after message, I go see places that suck or the people don't want me.  Wah!

I could have blogged about my first crazy story on Friday night, but I was too tired from getting in at 3, and it started to seem less funny (also, I just started to feel lazy about typing it).  I went out with Terry and met some people, had a good time, almost failed to get home but just made the last train (also, why is the last train on the weekend not that late?!).  When I got to the flat, I couldn't get into the second door.  This flat has so many doors, so many bolts and keys, so many passwords and riddles, so many creepy dolls and mirrors on the stairs that I don't see why anyone who even managed to break in would think it was worth continuing with their quest.  Every time I'm the last one in and I have to lock everything up completely all I can think about is how screwed we'd all be in a fire.  There's no way anyone would get out alive.  Even the window that would let you escape onto the roof below is locked.  By the time you found the key in all that smoke, or threw the kettle into the glass to break it, you'd be dead.  This is a certainty.

So...second door.  Couldn't figure it out.  It's 1:30 / 2ish in the morning on a Friday night.  The roomies work in the morning, so they've been in bed awhile.  I couldn't get my ipod or laptop to connect to the internet from inside the vestibule between the first and second doors, so I was forced to go around to the front (the entry to the flats is on the alley side).  I stood under the windows for awhile.  I sent messages and called with Skype.  Poor Terry missed the last train back to Farnborough and was stuck in Waterloo the whole night, but my ipod cut off when I talked to him.  Because of the night buses, it would have been possible to get around, but it would have taken forever, and you'd have to deal with drunk and crazy people.  I eyed the bar across the street thinking, at least I'd have something to do for an hour-ish before I curl up to attempt sleep in the pitch black vestibule.  But I didn't go, because I was told you had to pay to get in because it was a pub / nightclub after a certain hour.  And people are always yelling and screaming around it.  Little side note: Sunday nights are even worse than Friday and Saturday nights.  I guess I'll hand it to these people who didn't give a crap about their Monday mornings and end every weekend with a bang.

Some guy passes me and asks for a light.  Of course I don't have one.  He comes back seconds later and invites me to the pub / nightclub.  I considered the opportunity to not be completely bored for awhile longer, hoping it didn't close for until 3 or 3:30.  I agreed, out of my stupid sense of adventure (I wasn't interested in him at all).  To get to the point of why this story is somewhat funny, this guy ended up annoying the hell the out of me.  I couldn't get rid of him.  He was Irish, so he kept saying the Irish and Americans love each other.  And other strange things.  "Do these hands look like the hands of a businessman?"  They did not.  Part of a middle finger was missing, and I'm starting to wonder what's wrong with hands in general.  Some people have beautiful hands.  Not me (except my nails).  Not this guy either, even if that bit of finger wasn't missing.  "I hate the English!"  O, that must be why we're at a place called The Claddagh Ring.  Blah blah blah, the place closed at 2:30, which made my trip over there to find something to do for a little while longer pointless.  I went back to my post to call / message the roomies.  The drunk Irish kept saying he wasn't going to leave me by myself.  I finally got so annoyed that I was looking forward to curling up into a ball on the dirty floor between the doors.  So I went to do it, only this time I tried the second door again, and voila!  It opened!  I felt certain the universe had been messing with me so I could write a slightly more interesting blog.