I don't have much to say tonight, although that doesn't mean that the day was bland and uninteresting. No, in fact, as so often happens in this sunny period of life, each sunrise opens the floodgates of the Lake of Living, which is continually replenished overnight, and the joie de vivre of eternity rushes out to meet my soul. This flowing spirit dances into my heart and makes it like a child, who wakes with the sun, full of ceaseless wonder and an intense curiosity. I do not claim to rise with the sun, but if my heart could have it her way, I would.
I'm sorry if you were reading the blogs to get an accurate report of what I'd done during the day; I'm not really writing like that anymore. I suppose I feel like that's what my videos are for. Well, so that there is some record of the fact that I have been working very hard and not simply gallivanting around London, I will recount today's events. We visited the Museum of London Docklands. I woke up good and early, intentionally, and though we went slightly off course walking from the tube station to the museum, we got there in time. In fact, we beat the professor, and the museum hadn't yet opened! We only had to wait about five minutes though, and then in we went. I really like our professor, because he lets us roam free in museums, and gives us ample time to explore to our heart's content! I have some sort of idiosyncrasy which prevents me from being able to walk past a text description of something, or an advert, or a poem in a book, or anything like that in general. I think it may have something to do with a deep inner appreciation for continuity, and the concept of order, even hidden order, or patterns, having the expanse of infinity to develop within that, and so if I see some body of text, I need to read it all so that it has the chance to be whole in my mind. It feels like there are little chunks missing out of my space-time continuum if I don't complete the reading of the text! All this to say that I take a long time in museums.
(Sidenote: I'm also just really nosey and I want to see absolutely everything I possibly can!)
So it is extremely fortunate that our professor lets us be free. I wandered around the whole museum, averting my eyes if I spotted a long text in the distance which I didn't particularly want to read, but knew I wouldn't be able to walk past without reading. The museum is extremely well organised and the exhibits curated in such a way that I didn't feel like I was being treated like a baby, as is so often the case when museums attempt enthusiastically to be "interactive", but consequently become physical play-grounds for children instead of mental playgrounds for everyone (people over the age of three included!)
After the museum visit, and the hour-long discussion "class" which followed, everyone else left. I think they went home. Who knows. But personally I couldn't bring myself to abandon such a beautiful, bold, blue day to the past. I wanted to stay in its presence and in so doing extend its present. I didn't wan it to fade away into the past. I ordered a piece of carrot cake and a regular cappuccino from the cafe in the museum, and then took it outside to the docks and welcomed the magnificent day's embrace.
The museum is in the Old Warehouse No. 1, out of how many I'm not sure. But it was actually a warehouse of the West India Company, so it was the real deal! This meant that it opened out directly onto the docks, which in turn meant that I could sit on the docks and eat my treats. There was a little bit of seating outside, though most of it was inside - far far away from the door and the view! At first I sat on one of the chairs that are set up to look out on the docks, but the sun was a little too enthusiastic to share its warmth, so I moved to a shadier spot - the foot of the statue of "ROBT MILLIGAN", an important man re: the building of the docks. I think I looked quite eclectic: detailed-pattern long swishy skirt, black shirt, red hat, purple sunglasses.
Milligan wasn't quite big enough. Turns out not even the vastness of two hundred years can make you any taller. By that time, the people who had been in occupation of the tables outside had cleared off. (Say "cleared off" as "cleared orf", in an old man voice, with a British accent, reminiscent of the policeman in The Five Find-Outers by Enid Blyton. His name was Mr Goon, if that helps any with the imagining process.) I took the best spot, bathed in the shadow of a banner, and spread out my picnic on the table. Unfortunately, the table was doomed to an eternity of instability (dear Dante - which circle of Hell?) First, it was perched precariously upon a series of ancient cobble stones. Second, it had a few screws loose, and its head seemed in danger of eloping with gravity. So I had to operate strategically, placing the various elements of my meal - my water bottle, my lunch box (with cheese-and-onion sandwich), my cappuccino, my cake, and my notebook - in the right spot. Gives a new meaning to a balanced diet, doesn't it?
I enjoyed my picnic immensely! I filed the nails on my left hand, because that's all I had patience for (and now I really need to do the right hand, otherwise things will get out of hand!) You know, though obviously the food-content of a picnic is very important, it is not necessarily essential to the success of the picnic. What matters is your attitude! The carrot cake was dry (why on earth does everything have to be gluten free?!), and I had put a little too much onion on my sandwich! But the cappuccino had chocolate sprinkles and I was able to wear my sunglasses - which I always take great delight in doing, because, one, they're the first big thing I bought with my mince-pie money wayyyy back in 2014, (I had a baby business baking and selling mince pies at Christmas, if you were wondering). And two, because they have glitter in them! So yes, picnics, much like life, are all about your attitude, and a willingness to find something to appreciate!
I'm tired now. Writing can be tiring!
Anyway, on my way back to the station, I was led into a shop, form where two dresses had been silently tantalising my soul. I am a stolid and unwavering believer in a form of the concept of Fate. I think that it is ultimately crafted by God, and thus when something happens without any conscious knowledge of your own, I think that that is simply God taking a very active role in moving you around/introducing you to people etc etc. Sort of something that He wants very much to happen to/for you, and doesn't want you to miss out on! So I didn't need to go that route back to the station, but for some reason that's the way I went. And I didn't need to go into the shop, but I had to walk through it to get to the other side (it was like an inside shop thing) where the station was. And the two dresses didn't have to be on sale. And they didn't have to fit. How could I say no?
I am so grateful I could buy them!
Now I really must go to bed!
I came home and did some photography reading (the work part of the post-museum day!)
Oooooooh and I made a very artistic dinner! Well, the only part that actually worked out was the tomato. But I was very proud of my tomato.
Good night!
No comments:
Post a Comment