What a weekend!
People who know me well know how awkward because normally they look like that: Saturday: I get up at about ten and have breakfast at about eleven. I start watching some shit on Netflix and about four o'clock realised that I haven't eaten anything yet and gobble up something that only remotely resembles anything you should have for lunch. I write on my stories or read because I have a bad conscience for having watched too much TV. I start watching TV again and loll on the sofa (or bed) until it is beyond midnight and eat something completely unhealthy at about eleven. Then there is Sunday: Pretty much the same as Saturday only with the difference that about four o'clock I fall in a deep depression because it will be Monday the next day. However, this weekend was different. On Saturday I, indeed, had a slow morning, but in the afternoon I went to work at the party entertainment service. My co-worker C invited me to a party and because I thought it would be in Kingston (she lives there) and agreed to come. Well...it wasn't. It was in Shadwell, East London. About one and a half hours away in an area described as the capital of crime. Great! C's friends had a housewarming party and in the pouring rain and stormy wind, we were led to a snug flat by her friend (who moved into the flat with his boyfriend, so shortly, his flat) and I saw the most awesome toilet. Well, not really the toilet, but look at the pic, and you will see what I mean...very efficient, indeed. I spent some great time there, met wonderful people and had thought-provoking conversation (including how to stuff a mole and the difference between English and German grammar). At some point, I had to go home because I was afraid that if I don't get out in time, I won't be able to get home at all (but I made it without being raped, thank God). And for the first time in...like a long, long time, I only got home at two o'clock. On Sunday I went to a morning sport's class (I am so proud of myself that I went despite me coming home late the day earlier). I was like the women I judged a couple of months ago, with my sports attire and a Chai Latte in my hand (so cliche, I am sorry). N and I had a great Zumba class and afterwards (after a shower) went up to London to see the "Alice-in-Wonderland-exhibition" in the British library. As usual, the best part about the exhibition was the shop. The shop! It had thousands of editions of Alice in Wonderland, jewelry, bags, postcards, etc.etc. The exhibition was quite interesting, though. We saw the first editions and early Alice merchandise. I have the feeling Alice in Wonderland was among the first books that had, besides the text, a lot of fan articles and merchandise involved - some even created by Lewis Carroll himself. In the shop I bought a notebook (because a hundred are not enough) and a cover for my oyster card (my main oyster card). After the exhibition, we strolled around London and soon reached King's Cross. As die-hard Harry Potter fan, King's Cross is special, of course, and so we decided to go inside. In King's Cross there is a suitcase cart half in a wall alluding to the HP books and I took a picture there when A and I were in London for NYE. I could easily find it again, as there was a huge crowd in front of it, but I discovered something else which would simply MAKE MY DAY! A Harry Potter shop right beside cart!!!!! My heart started thumping and I rejoiced with happiness. Immediately, we went inside and admired the different sections which led from coins, sweets and wands to T-shirts, jumpers and hairbands, one of which I bought, Gryffindor, of course. Furthermore, I bought a Platform 9 3/4 ticket cover for my Oyster card (my main card, the Alice was dumped for my Nanny Oyster, that's how far it can go...). Things like that make me feel so happy about living in London. A Harry Potter shop only forty minutes away from me. You know what that means. My birthday can come and a huge treat to myself with it!!!! Finally, we sat down between King's Cross and St. Pancras to have our lunch boxes (yes, we brought lunch boxes with us and I tell you what - the content was more or less pretty healthy!!) There we found this awkward cage building with a swing in it (it's a bit difficult to see in the pic, but it there, promise). N and I started a discussion whether this is the depiction of British education, a little bit of fun, but in a cage. Anyway, we thought it was an awful symbol, a swing should never be in a cage. Whichever message you send with that - it's definitely wrong. Yes, and that was it. My weekend. Quite exciting (for my standards) and I was quite glad when the week started again, for some rest at last ;-)
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorIn September 2015 I started a new chapter of my life by moving (temporarily or permanently, not yet decided) to England where I work and socialise now. Archives
December 2017
Categories |