Once again, I write to you from a coffee shop. This time, it is a rather large one called "Costa" and it's amusing that Daniel, who is from Costa Rica, has never heard of Costa the coffee shop. Cultural appropriation (?). I ordered the most enormous cappuccino I have ever had the privilege to drink, and took it, balanced precariously, upstairs. This coffee shop is right across the road from our flat, and so it is very convenient, and the fact that the coffee is cheap - 2 pounds 90 - is added incentive to sit here! Furthermore, it stays open late, has good light, and is stocked with multiple, well-placed plug points. Oh, and free wifi. Yes please. So I may be writing to you from here quite often.
Today was a marvelous day - again! I woke up and wondered through to the kitchen, and most of the group had already eaten, so I ate breakfast on my own, which was fine, because I hadn't finished my reading for class! I wasn't exactly nervous about class, but it was going to be the first time that all of us would be sitting in a room talking and I wasn't sure what it would be like. You know how first group meetings, when none of you have particularly chosen to be there, can be rather awkward? Well, fortunately it wasn't! We all jumped on the tube together, and made it, with the help of City mapper and much discussion, to Bedford Square. The Paul Mellon Center is in a gorgeous spot, right off Bedford Gardens, and in a lovely old building. The insides are not, unfortunately, all original, but Nermin said that the railings might be! They have, however, kept the same style for decorating, and I think that the brass door handles must be original, or at least quite old. I could, however, simply be a victim of very clever modern creations! Ah well. One has to ask: does it really matter? If it looks old, and I think it's old, then that's all you want, right? Or is it? Is it a deception that I am encouraging by being taken in? Or should I just shut up and forget about the wretched door-knobs?
We had a few introductory events, being shown round the little library, hearing from our two professors, and touring the building. We also had a delicious tea, replete with an assortment of wonderful cakes, which you can see me enjoying immensely in my vlog! (ie please watch my vlog when it goes up.) I thought it was hugely ironic that they had provided chocolate cornflake crunchie things as one of the cakes, because they were bought from the fancy Waitrose, and could pass as some high-end treat, and yet they're the same treats I've been eating ever since I knew Sarah Bryony Hawgood, since I was five, and she used to have them as her birthday cake at school. Mrs Hawgood, yours were better!
After our morning of introductions, we ventured out for lunch. Now, finding a place to have lunch these days is no easy task, because there are hundreds of places to eat, and thousands of websites' and apps' opinions to consult before you decide. In the end, after much conferring, we settled on a sandwich shop, about five minutes away. Unfortunately, it wasn't amazing, and though my bacon, avo, and tomato sandwich was good, it wasn't anything spectacular, and I will probably find somewhere else to eat! Or pack my own lunch. I cooked. GASP. I COOKED. I cooked sausages tonight, so I may just take a packed lunch tomorrow. Also, class is usually finished before lunch, so I can probably come home anyway and not have to eat lunch out.
We took our sandwiches back with us to the Center, munching on the way, and then in the common room, (on the third floor). At 1 o'clock, we migrated next door, to number 15 - which is actually accessible via a fire escape passage on the third floor - for our first class, about London as the Imperial Hub of the British Empire. Our professor is an extremely knowledgeable man, and I'm not just saying that because he might read this. His area of expertise is, if I remember correctly, the Middle East and North Africa, and he knows a whole lot about empire in that respect. He has a PhD in History, and teaches in the sociology department at Yale. We spent about two hours discussing everything from why we each chose to do Yale in London, to how empires are like wheels without rims. A very interesting two hours!
At about 3 o'clock, we all set off for the British Museum, to have a look at artefacts the British took from other countries. Took? Stole? Appropriated? Those questions were sort of the point of the visit: we were split into pairs and had to pick an exhibition and take photos of things we thought were relevant to our discussion about the British Empire. Although I do feel uncomfortable gazing at sacred scarab beetles or Cleopatra's mummy, because I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to, almost sacrilegious, in fact, I was also just so excited to see all these marvelous and precious things, things I had only ever seen on tv! I couldn't actually believe it when I saw the Cleopatra section. Like, this is THE REAL DEAL. There were also some mummified cats, and a mummified fish(?)!
We split up once we had taken the requisite pictures and posted them - with the free (again!) wifi - and written up our thoughtful(?) captions. I wandered around for about an hour, and then some more, because I couldn't find my way out. Finally, I escaped the clutches of the ancient, glass-entombed artefacts, and strolled out the gates. I thought it was kind of funny how there is always such a long line to get into something, like the museum, but getting out never seems to be an issue. I could have just gone back on the tube, the same way I'd come, but I decided that the day was too beautiful, London too entrancing, and my nosiness/curiosity too intense, not to walk. It was only about 2.something miles, which is like 4km, I think. (Asked Google. He said it's 4.) And it shouldn't have taken nearly as long as it did, but I stopped myriad times along the way.
First thing to note: I was walking along Oxford Street, which has it's own website. That should tell you all you need to know about it. SO MANY PEOPLE. And all of them carrying shopping bags, one of my favourite kinds of bags. I was walking purposefully because my phone battery was low and I didn't, and don't, trust my sense of direction to get me home. But London knows me too well, already, and she threw a fantastic little hole-in-the-wall art store in my way. I fell for it. I got distracted. I turned left into the small, dark-wood-and-green-velvet shop. The walls were bristling with expensive-looking paints and paintbrushes and glass bottles of liquid that looked like either some sort of medicine, (to those with less volatile imaginations,) or deadly still potions, waiting to be mixed into a bubbling cauldron. I felt as if I was in Diagon Alley! I had to laugh when a lady behind me knocked something over, because for once it wasn't my fault!
After the art shop, I was drawn unceremoniously across the road to a grand Marks & Spencer. When - and I say 'when' because I intend on making this a reality, so that I can come back here and buy stuff - when I am rich, I will shop in Marks & Spencer. Again, in my vlog I show you why, so please watch! There are so many classic clothes and shoes in there, and I had to tread very carefully, so as not to stumble upon something I couldn't resist.
I made it out alive.
Then I saw a church spire rising two blocks away and calling to me loud and clear. So I went in, obviously. My eyes seem to be tuned-in to the church-spire station, because I literally can't walk anywhere without seeing one. And when I see one, I can't walk past without going in. It was called St. Margaret's, and it was spectacular. An organist was playing away, and it was so beautiful in there. In contrast, the next church I went into was absolutely silent. There wasn't a single soul - or actually maybe there were lots of souls - but no humans! I think it was called the Church of the Annunciation (I checked my phone and the location it said I was at, and yes, that's its name). I know that it is a saying as old as time, as is the saying "as old as time", that you could hear the silence. But seriously, I could hear it. It was as if all the parishioners who had ever worshiped in there were still there, still singing hymns, and still sitting there in the silence. I felt the spirits of their voices reverberating from one stained glass window to the other.
After the churches I made myself go home, but I almost stopped at Waitrose to get my free coffee, (because I'd got the (pdf version of the) card!). I walked past it, crossed one road, then remembered the free coffee. So I walked back, almost to the doors, then remembered that my phone was on 1%, or already dead, and so I wouldn't be able to use the card. So I had to walk back AGAIN, and cross the road AGAIN. Anyway, I made it home, remembered the pass code, and had my key! YIPPEEEE.
As I mentioned, I actually made supper tonight. I used a frying pan, and the hot plate, and a knife, and I didn't break anything, burn anything, or cut myself. I am as astonished by this unexpected turn of events as you all are, and if you have a glass of anything nearby, please raise it, gently, to a future full of successful cooking exploits.
I then proceeded to pack my stuff and head off to the coffee shop I'd noted on my way home - where I am now, across the street from my flat - and ordered my cappuccino, which I've already told you about.
Now, I must sleep. First photography class tomorrow!
Au revoir et bon nuit!
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