One of my all-time favorite Calvin & Hobbes strips shows Calvin climbing out the window of his room in his pajamas in the middle of the night and calling his parents from a pay phone to say, “Hello mom and dad. It is now three a.m. Do you know where I am?” That’s what I feel like saying to you right now because wherever you are it is still yesterday evening, and where I am is tomorrow and London. It’s enough to make one feel mischevious.
That doesn’t have to make sense.
So I’m trying to work my way through the above book while also reading Memoirs of a Geisha for my beloved book club. Guess which one is winning. Small Island is pretty good too, and if it weren’t an assignment I’d probably even read it. Well Rach, that’s a terrible attitude…good thing I just applied for “Great Books/Great Ideas,” a class in which I’d need to read 100 books throughout two semesters. Clearly I’ll rock at that.
The last time I wrote it was about Cork. A week and a half later I went to Paris! Sabrina visited and we had a grand old time around London before taking the chunnel to Paris for two days. It would have been perfect if either of us could speak French, or could find a grocery store, or weren’t freezing and kind of sick. Still it was a lot of fun…aside from the snow. That was unnecessary. In two days, we saw the Sacre Couer, Moulin Rouge (didn’t go in…we’re not that kind of girl), the Eiffel Tower by day and night, the Louvre, the Musee d’Orsay, shopped Champs d’Elysees, took a boat up and down the Seine, and ate at McDonald’s three times. And we did it all with “Bonjour” and “Merci” as the extent of our French.
I do love London, but I am quite sick of being sick. And I’m sick of the drama that is unavoidable with two roommates…fifteen flatmates…28 people between the two flats…the same damn people everywhere. Good thing I have this huge city in which to get myself lost…