by Catherine Roberts
Wednesday is the best day of the week. Why? Because for one thing, my budget starts over on Wednesday, because it is the day I'm supposed to pay rent. I get to begin anew and forget about how much I went overbudget, as I invariably do, the week before. For another, it is cheap drinks night at our local.
This Wednesday was a particularly good one. Despite it being truly cold for the first time since I've been here, the sun was shining, and there were no clouds on the horizon to threaten rain later, a rarity in this country.
Here is the other reason I knew Wednesday would be a good day:
As I rounded the first corner on the way to the bus, what should greet me but the yowling mew of Sherwin, my favorite neighborhood cat. I have no clue what his real name is, but I call him Sherwin because he looks like he got into some white Sherwin Williams paint. He is the only cat I've met so far who comes up to you to say hello and be petted. When I see him in the morning, I take it as an omen of a good day.
I purposely caught the bus early so I could get a coffee and facebook for a bit before class.
Library coffee isn't so delicious, but it is the cheapest you can find in town. When I go to Paris this weekend, I am going to try to find a small French press coffeemaker, because my landlords only drink decaf, and that just does not cut it for me. As you might be able to tell, I am listening to Regina Spektor, off of Mary's playlist. This particular day I listened to Mary music all day, because I was missing her most keenly, especially in my Gender & Pop Culture lecture, during which we discussed how appallingly late in history women's equality has been put into legislation. When I come back I am going to be a bonafide feminist.
I don't like much about the physical Kingston campus, and especially the library, because it is just freakishly packed with students all the time, but I do like the third floor. Since you have to walk up a ton of stairs to get there, it usually has slightly fewer people. Also it has all the econ books, plus books with titles like this:
After GSPC, I have a new class that I'm just taking for fun: Understanding Britain. It's six weeks long and doesn't count for any credit, but it's a good alternative to the British Life and Culture class which I hear is just full of cliquey Americans from Jersey. No thanks. This class is mostly internationals from Germany and India. We had a quiz on the British monarchy at the beginning, and I scored 4 out of 10. Oops.
In the corner is the note I wrote to Mary about how excited I was about my earlier lecture and about finding out who Guy Fawkes was. Mary, I will transcribe this for you at some point. :)
Understanding Britain let out a bit early, so the usually packed and unpleasant courtyard was relatively calm.
The good thing about when this place is packed is I can pass by the smokers, get a little secondhand smoke and be reminded of home without looking like too much of a creep.
After class, I had to go turn in a very late form to the study abroad office. So, you know, that just requires a stroll up the Thames.
Since I was already in the town center, and it was the beginning of the week, I felt I could spend money on a treat. This is where I wanted to go...
...but I resisted. I walk by here all the time though, and one day I am going to break down. Instead, I walked into the square...
...and bought a mini-pasty.
So cute and delicious. I shopped some of the sales, but everything is still too expensive, and the jacket I really want from H&M isn't marked down yet, so I will have to wait it out. Instead, I did buy a truffle from my favorite place in Kingston.
This place is my main vice. But I only buy one truffle at a time from the case at the front...
Finally, after restraining myself on the retail front, though not on the chocolate front, I caught the bus.
Here's the thing about the bus. For one thing, I have to take the K2, which is like the worst bus in greater London. It's unreliable, it doesn't run at night, and the drivers are maniacs. The other weird thing is, and although this isn't unique to the K2, it's really true what they say about Brits queueing at bus stops. I don't understand why this happens. And it's only at busy stops where several routes pick up that this happens. People waiting form a queue from the approximate point the bus will stop. But you have no way of knowing who is waiting for what bus, and what route's bus will come next. So as soon the bus rounds the corner, there is a mad dash forward as people from all parts of the line, not just the front, rush to be first on, and there's a scrum around the bus door. So queueing had absolutely no point at all. It is a mystery to me, but you know. When in Rome...
Now comes the best part of Wednesday. I ran home, dropped off my books, and walked down the road to our favorite pub, The Berry. It is named after the little town/neighborhood center it is in, The Berrylands. The Berrylands consists of very little other than The Berry, a train station, and a bus stop. The Berrylands is to Surbiton is to Kingston as, like, Drumright is to Sapulpa is to Tulsa, if Drumright, Sapulpa and Tulsa were all within walking distance of each other. Anyway, The Berry is a wonderful pub, which is quiet and never very busy and has friendly bartenders. Plus on Wednesday you can get £2 Strongbow, Vodka&mixers, or G&Ts, plus discount pitchers. It was my week to buy a pitcher.
These are my friends. Lea, my roommate, is on the left, looking like champ. Carolyn, on the right, is polishing off the pitcher, like a champ. That's how we roll.
Shortly after this, Lea left to party with the football girls, and Carolyn and I went to go see The Social Network. As we were walking out of The Berry, I realized that I had forgotten my house key, and Lea had already caught the bus. This was the first omen I had that the joyful, carefree day I'd had all day was bound not to last, though I ignored it of course. I figured as long as Lea got home before me everything would be okay. Working on that happy notion, Carolyn and I went to see the movie, which turned out to be fantastic. I haven't seen that good a movie in theaters in a very long time.
In British movie theaters, you have assigned seating, and pay more for better seats. And people like, actually check your ticket when you're inside the theater. Bizarre.
After this followed a long, drawn-out ordeal consisting of a lot of riding back and forth on the 281 and wandering around Tolworth with Carolyn while I waited for Lea to say she was headed home from the club. At one point I ended up at the Kingston library, which I like a lot more when it's deserted in the middle of the night. For one thing, I can take pictures of the third floor without people looking at me like my skin has fallen off or something.
I stopped taking pictures after this, because I was so distressed at not being able to go home and go to bed. I am a big moron for forgetting my key, and also for not just going home after the movie and ringing the doorbell. Lea finally texted me she was headed home, so I got on the bus, but she beat me back, and by the time I got there, she'd fallen asleep. Totally understandable, since it was 3 a.m. I waited outside for 45 minutes in the near freezing weather hoping she'd wake up*/screwing up the courage to ring the doorbell and wake up my landlady. What about that makes sense? Absolutely nothing, I realize. And I realized at the time, but I was delirious from cold and booze and sleep-deprivation, and I was afraid of making my family mad. Eventually when I finally admitted to myself that it was either ring the doorbell or sleep on the doorstep, I rang it. My landlady let me in, and wasn't mad, of course. I felt like a big idiot.
*I don't blame Lea at all in this, I just want to make clear. I am clearly thick.
So, that is a really extreme but good example of how most of my days here run the gamut between fantastic and disastrous. Though it ended terribly, I am happy the rest of it went so well, and I learned several lessons. 1) NEVER leave home without your house key. 2) If you've been waiting for something in the cold for more that 15 minutes, you've been waiting too long. It's time to try something else. I should have learned that lesson from my adventure to Charleston, but alas, I did not. 3) I can't remember what 3 is. Mostly, don't be an idiot. You'd think I'd have learned that by now, what with all the House I watch. Too bad it never sunk in.
Anyway, I am still looking forward to next Wednesday, as it is always generally a good day, and I am more immediately looking forward to spending the weekend in Paris. My flight leaves in just under 4 hours, so I have to run pretty soon here, but I wanted to finish this damn post that I've been working on since yesterday afternoon. I saw Sherwin this morning, so I am sure our trip will be a successful one. Among other things, we are going to go see the Paris Opera Ballet perform Paquita, parts of which I danced in high school at one point, so I am quite excited about that. I also hope to buy some posh clothes. Also coffee and chocolate. Yes please.
I hope everyone has a pleasing weekend!
Love,
Catherine
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