An English librarian in London
Jul. 29th, 2004 05:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenFirst of all, some quotes for the last two days. I insist on calling them the “weekend” even though they were Tuesday and Wednesday. Such is life. Anyway, the quotes, as I gleefully stole the idea from Leigh.
Firstly, why I am a lucky, lucky human being:
Joshua: Our dads are losers. Your dad is cool!
And an intelligent one, too:
Train announcer person: This train is for Hainault, via Newbury Park. The next station is Bond Street. Change here for Jubilee and Bakerloo lines. This train is for Hainault, via Newbury Park. This train is for Hainault, via Newbury Park.
Me: So where are we going?
That said:
Mani: Is a carriage clock a clock in a carriage? Or is it the other way round?
Like how you keep picking at it even though it hurts:
Me: Why? Why is he cool?
Joshua: Like the Lone Ranger.
Nupur: It’s something about the jacket.
A good answer:
Me: Did you have fun?
Nupur: Giles choked Snyder!
Statement of fact:
Mani: The water is brown!
Pedar in mufti:
Pedar: So, when does this circus finish?
Me: Pedar!
Pedar: It’s okay, I’m wearing my serious face.
And, um, well.
Nupur: I’m going to the bathroom.
Me: Mmm.
(screaming)
Me: What? What?
Nupur: Vampire!
Me: Wha…
Nupur: S’okay, I staked it with a toothbrush.
So, my little adventure didn’t begin well. I forgot half my bits and bobs and was being driven up the wall by my mother. Amazingly, we caught the train. “We” means me, my mother and Didibhai, as Pedar was bringing everyone else down the next day. Th is amazing on many levels, because we never catch the Euston train with anything approaching regularity. I spent the journey reading the Guardian – and I wonder why I can’t read it every day. It took me about two hours to actually get through it, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up, I had grooves in my arms and stars engraven in my skin (from the bracelets). I sleepwalked through the entire two days, I swear.
The train was horribly delayed round about Nuneaton, which bothered us less than it would have done if we’d actually needed to be on time for something, but it gave us less time than we would have to just slope round London. My suggestion was to get sandwiches from Marks ‘n’ Sparks (so very middle class) and have a picnic at Green Park.
Which we did, and it was very nice and civilised. It was beautiful weather, sunny and gorgeous, and while we were sitting there, Didibhai started to laugh.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m in London,” she said, giggling. “I’m having lunch in a park in London. I never thought…”
She was happy about it for a while, even when we left the park and went down to Oxford Street. We met Mani and Mita in front of Selfridges. I have mentioned them before; very old friends of the family, and Mani was until lately in possession of two goldfish named Jasmine and Aladdin (and not Sirius and Remus). We don’t ask if they are the same fish. Not a good question.
“Just to warn you,” Mani said, “we have no running water.”
“What have you done to the fish?”
Apparently they still have some hot water. Accordingly, she put hot water plus ice cubes in the tank. Amazingly, the fish are still alive.
The reason I went into London on Tuesday night was because of a thingy thing I am not in the mood to explain. Anyone who went to one of the Oxbridge open days probably came across it; anyway, they are very nice people who give you a mock interview. The bloke who interviewed me was very nice, and managed to segue into the interview without me really noticing. He asked me a lot of things (logical consequences of time travel, made the geek in me very happy) and gave me feedback at the end. I think it was useful.
Out in the city again, we wandered down to Bond Street. Actually, that was a story all by itself. I know London – I’ve spent quite a bit of time there – and yet we were all lost. On Oxford Street, looking for New Bond Street. Embarrassing, no? Finally, my mother yelled, “Go and ask the policeman!”
“No,” I said, and Mita went.
I whispered into Mani’s ear, “I can’t ask a policeman where New Bond Street is when we’re standing in front of Bond Street station.”
She giggled, and then started laughing too hard to speak and just pointed. The policeman had taken out his A-Z. Mita eventually came back with instructions. “Take the next right.”
But we kept on giggling about it all the way home on the Central line (Hainault, via Newbury Park!) while I read through the day’s Evening Standard.
Mani and I spent the night giggling and exchanging fandom notes. I did not get much sleep, understandably, and there wasn’t any water for me to take a shower and wake myself up in the morning. Consequently, I spent much of the next day asleep.
The morning involved something called a “self-guided tour” of UCL (University College, London). It was drizzly and cold and I was exhausted, and consequently I’m not giving much importance to my first impressions of the place. I didn’t like it much. I was so tired, I barely even registered it as we left and went to Warren Street because my mother wanted a phonecard. We stopped in McDonald’s for a moment, and someone got arrested. Strange but true. While I was drinking my coffee, there was a load of noise and shouting, and out came the police dragging some guy up the stairs. Apparently he’d been shooting up in the toilets.
Weird.
The afternoon was better. I went to King’s, the weather improved, my mother, Didibhai, Nupur and Joshua were on a sightseeing tour and Pedar was hanging around to meet me. I liked King’s very much indeed, possibly because it was sunny and beautiful and well, I just liked it. The faculty of medicine is richly equipped and has something like three thousand computers, which makes me very happy, and is one of the few medical schools that still does dissection. There was a tour, and a few talks, and Pedar stuck his head in for a few moments in the middle just to tell me to meet him at Green Park. Once the open day was over, I got the Tube from London Bridge and met him there.
We spent a lazy afternoon wandering round the city, probably the first real fun I’d had since arrival. It was sunny, bright and I was comfortable for once – down in Picadilly Circus station, they were giving out free bottles of water, “so people don’t faint.” We grabbed three bottles and didn’t faint.
I don’t think I will ever grow out of the Underground. I still have that fascination with every aspect of it – the trains, stations, the wonderfully childlike and familiar map, everything. I probably went to every station in Zone 1 yesterday, and it didn’t bother me a whit.
So once we got to Euston, I didn’t mind sitting in the main line station, waiting for the others. Pedar asked, “Where are they? They should be here in five minutes.”
“I’ll ring them,” I said, and did.
My mother answered. “Iona! Where are you?”
“Below the departure board in the station,” I said.
“What station?”
I contemplated saying King’s Cross or Lime Street or Minsk or somewhere, but kept the sarcasm out of it. “Euston. Where are you?”
“Buckingham Palace.”
No, I can’t explain it either. They eventually arrived some time later, flustered and in a hurry, and then we discovered the train was delayed forty-five minutes and we could have taken our time after all. I was pissed off. Virgin Trains are the suck. The journey wasn’t much fun either, as we were stuck next to the sterotype of a crotchety old man, and I didn’t have anything to read. We ended up drafting a letter to George Bush to kill time. I wrote some fic, which needs typing up. I hate having to do that.
Today was devoted to sleeping, watching Buffy and making phone calls, in that order. I’m still so tired.
Firstly, why I am a lucky, lucky human being:
Joshua: Our dads are losers. Your dad is cool!
And an intelligent one, too:
Train announcer person: This train is for Hainault, via Newbury Park. The next station is Bond Street. Change here for Jubilee and Bakerloo lines. This train is for Hainault, via Newbury Park. This train is for Hainault, via Newbury Park.
Me: So where are we going?
That said:
Mani: Is a carriage clock a clock in a carriage? Or is it the other way round?
Like how you keep picking at it even though it hurts:
Me: Why? Why is he cool?
Joshua: Like the Lone Ranger.
Nupur: It’s something about the jacket.
A good answer:
Me: Did you have fun?
Nupur: Giles choked Snyder!
Statement of fact:
Mani: The water is brown!
Pedar in mufti:
Pedar: So, when does this circus finish?
Me: Pedar!
Pedar: It’s okay, I’m wearing my serious face.
And, um, well.
Nupur: I’m going to the bathroom.
Me: Mmm.
(screaming)
Me: What? What?
Nupur: Vampire!
Me: Wha…
Nupur: S’okay, I staked it with a toothbrush.
So, my little adventure didn’t begin well. I forgot half my bits and bobs and was being driven up the wall by my mother. Amazingly, we caught the train. “We” means me, my mother and Didibhai, as Pedar was bringing everyone else down the next day. Th is amazing on many levels, because we never catch the Euston train with anything approaching regularity. I spent the journey reading the Guardian – and I wonder why I can’t read it every day. It took me about two hours to actually get through it, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up, I had grooves in my arms and stars engraven in my skin (from the bracelets). I sleepwalked through the entire two days, I swear.
The train was horribly delayed round about Nuneaton, which bothered us less than it would have done if we’d actually needed to be on time for something, but it gave us less time than we would have to just slope round London. My suggestion was to get sandwiches from Marks ‘n’ Sparks (so very middle class) and have a picnic at Green Park.
Which we did, and it was very nice and civilised. It was beautiful weather, sunny and gorgeous, and while we were sitting there, Didibhai started to laugh.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m in London,” she said, giggling. “I’m having lunch in a park in London. I never thought…”
She was happy about it for a while, even when we left the park and went down to Oxford Street. We met Mani and Mita in front of Selfridges. I have mentioned them before; very old friends of the family, and Mani was until lately in possession of two goldfish named Jasmine and Aladdin (and not Sirius and Remus). We don’t ask if they are the same fish. Not a good question.
“Just to warn you,” Mani said, “we have no running water.”
“What have you done to the fish?”
Apparently they still have some hot water. Accordingly, she put hot water plus ice cubes in the tank. Amazingly, the fish are still alive.
The reason I went into London on Tuesday night was because of a thingy thing I am not in the mood to explain. Anyone who went to one of the Oxbridge open days probably came across it; anyway, they are very nice people who give you a mock interview. The bloke who interviewed me was very nice, and managed to segue into the interview without me really noticing. He asked me a lot of things (logical consequences of time travel, made the geek in me very happy) and gave me feedback at the end. I think it was useful.
Out in the city again, we wandered down to Bond Street. Actually, that was a story all by itself. I know London – I’ve spent quite a bit of time there – and yet we were all lost. On Oxford Street, looking for New Bond Street. Embarrassing, no? Finally, my mother yelled, “Go and ask the policeman!”
“No,” I said, and Mita went.
I whispered into Mani’s ear, “I can’t ask a policeman where New Bond Street is when we’re standing in front of Bond Street station.”
She giggled, and then started laughing too hard to speak and just pointed. The policeman had taken out his A-Z. Mita eventually came back with instructions. “Take the next right.”
But we kept on giggling about it all the way home on the Central line (Hainault, via Newbury Park!) while I read through the day’s Evening Standard.
Mani and I spent the night giggling and exchanging fandom notes. I did not get much sleep, understandably, and there wasn’t any water for me to take a shower and wake myself up in the morning. Consequently, I spent much of the next day asleep.
The morning involved something called a “self-guided tour” of UCL (University College, London). It was drizzly and cold and I was exhausted, and consequently I’m not giving much importance to my first impressions of the place. I didn’t like it much. I was so tired, I barely even registered it as we left and went to Warren Street because my mother wanted a phonecard. We stopped in McDonald’s for a moment, and someone got arrested. Strange but true. While I was drinking my coffee, there was a load of noise and shouting, and out came the police dragging some guy up the stairs. Apparently he’d been shooting up in the toilets.
Weird.
The afternoon was better. I went to King’s, the weather improved, my mother, Didibhai, Nupur and Joshua were on a sightseeing tour and Pedar was hanging around to meet me. I liked King’s very much indeed, possibly because it was sunny and beautiful and well, I just liked it. The faculty of medicine is richly equipped and has something like three thousand computers, which makes me very happy, and is one of the few medical schools that still does dissection. There was a tour, and a few talks, and Pedar stuck his head in for a few moments in the middle just to tell me to meet him at Green Park. Once the open day was over, I got the Tube from London Bridge and met him there.
We spent a lazy afternoon wandering round the city, probably the first real fun I’d had since arrival. It was sunny, bright and I was comfortable for once – down in Picadilly Circus station, they were giving out free bottles of water, “so people don’t faint.” We grabbed three bottles and didn’t faint.
I don’t think I will ever grow out of the Underground. I still have that fascination with every aspect of it – the trains, stations, the wonderfully childlike and familiar map, everything. I probably went to every station in Zone 1 yesterday, and it didn’t bother me a whit.
So once we got to Euston, I didn’t mind sitting in the main line station, waiting for the others. Pedar asked, “Where are they? They should be here in five minutes.”
“I’ll ring them,” I said, and did.
My mother answered. “Iona! Where are you?”
“Below the departure board in the station,” I said.
“What station?”
I contemplated saying King’s Cross or Lime Street or Minsk or somewhere, but kept the sarcasm out of it. “Euston. Where are you?”
“Buckingham Palace.”
No, I can’t explain it either. They eventually arrived some time later, flustered and in a hurry, and then we discovered the train was delayed forty-five minutes and we could have taken our time after all. I was pissed off. Virgin Trains are the suck. The journey wasn’t much fun either, as we were stuck next to the sterotype of a crotchety old man, and I didn’t have anything to read. We ended up drafting a letter to George Bush to kill time. I wrote some fic, which needs typing up. I hate having to do that.
Today was devoted to sleeping, watching Buffy and making phone calls, in that order. I’m still so tired.
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no subject
on 2004-07-29 10:04 am (UTC)The Guardian (like all broadsheets) is impossible to read unless you have a table to put it on :)
And the vampire/toothbrush thing - too too funny XD
*cannot believe she just wrote vampire/toothbrush*
*has Very Bad Wrong Evil mental images*
*gouges out own eyes*
no subject
on 2004-07-29 10:30 am (UTC)I had a table. I took up all the space and annoyed everyone.
And oh, yes for the vampire/toothbrush thing. Hee, theirloveissopotentiallylethal!
no subject
on 2004-07-29 10:14 am (UTC)no subject
on 2004-07-29 10:27 am (UTC)no subject
on 2004-07-29 12:05 pm (UTC):)
no subject
on 2004-07-29 12:36 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-07-29 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-07-30 06:30 am (UTC)*Good* phone calls, or at least mine were. I'm glad you're home, though a little worried that I hadn't heard of this mock interview thing.