Rebecca's last post from London (in St. Pancras Station).
I'm sitting here wedged in a corner in St Pancras Station. Benches in this station are scarce - but not as scarce as trash cans! I wandered all over the second floor looking for one before I finally gave up, and I had to chew my gum long after it lost its flavor. (I ended up wrapping it in paper torn from The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle and putting it in my pocket.) Then I noticed that some other young travelers who couldn't find benches had wedged themselves against the wall like this, and I decided to do the same.
I just got down eating two pieces of baklava I bought at the South Kensington station, where I was before I came here. (I had to drop the map Laura lent me through her mail slot. Oh, that reminds me. Note to self: Send Laura a thank-you card ASAP when you get back to Villers-Cotterets.) I love bakalva so much, I licked my fingers after every bite and when it was all gone, I ripped the bag open and picked off the crumbs. I don't even care if people stared at me - it was worth it!
People with their heavy luggage are rushing past me. My train for Paris doesn't leave until 15:30, but I got here at 11:30. I guess I could've used the time to do more sight-seeing, but I had to check out of my hostel at 10, which meant anywhere I went afterwards I would have to go with my backpack on. And it's so heavy that it was hard enough just getting from Earl's Court to South Kensington to Laura's house, then back to South Kensington to King's Cross St. Pancras. I saw the Platform 9 3/4 sign at the King's Cross station - boy, was that exciting! If only I could've gone through and taken the train to Hogwarts!
There's a big statue here on the second floor of John Batjeman, who was, according to the plaque, "a poet who saved this glorious station." I don't know what that means, but there are lines from some of his poems on plaques nearby, and I was impressed by them. Since I don't have anything better to do, I'll write some of them down now.
Imprisoned in a cage of sound
Even the trivial seems profound
A gentle guest, a willing host
Affection deeply planted
Strange that those we miss the most
Are those we take for granted
Revival ran along the hedge
And made my spirit whole
When steam was on the windowpanes
And glory in my soul
In the shadowless unclouded glare
Deep blue above us fades to whiteness where
A misty sea-line meets the wash of air
Honesty time. Have I mentioned that I haven't taken a shower since my last night at Laura's house (December 23)? I'm sure there's a terrible smell coming off me that I just don't notice. But the showers at the hostel were co-ed and offered so little privacy and they charged six pounds for a towel! The first thing I'm going to do when I get back to the lycee is a take a long hot shower and wash my hair, then go up to the computer room and log into YouTube. I'll do my laundry tomorrow.
[Transcribed from my paper journal.]
I just got down eating two pieces of baklava I bought at the South Kensington station, where I was before I came here. (I had to drop the map Laura lent me through her mail slot. Oh, that reminds me. Note to self: Send Laura a thank-you card ASAP when you get back to Villers-Cotterets.) I love bakalva so much, I licked my fingers after every bite and when it was all gone, I ripped the bag open and picked off the crumbs. I don't even care if people stared at me - it was worth it!
People with their heavy luggage are rushing past me. My train for Paris doesn't leave until 15:30, but I got here at 11:30. I guess I could've used the time to do more sight-seeing, but I had to check out of my hostel at 10, which meant anywhere I went afterwards I would have to go with my backpack on. And it's so heavy that it was hard enough just getting from Earl's Court to South Kensington to Laura's house, then back to South Kensington to King's Cross St. Pancras. I saw the Platform 9 3/4 sign at the King's Cross station - boy, was that exciting! If only I could've gone through and taken the train to Hogwarts!
There's a big statue here on the second floor of John Batjeman, who was, according to the plaque, "a poet who saved this glorious station." I don't know what that means, but there are lines from some of his poems on plaques nearby, and I was impressed by them. Since I don't have anything better to do, I'll write some of them down now.
Imprisoned in a cage of sound
Even the trivial seems profound
A gentle guest, a willing host
Affection deeply planted
Strange that those we miss the most
Are those we take for granted
Revival ran along the hedge
And made my spirit whole
When steam was on the windowpanes
And glory in my soul
In the shadowless unclouded glare
Deep blue above us fades to whiteness where
A misty sea-line meets the wash of air
Honesty time. Have I mentioned that I haven't taken a shower since my last night at Laura's house (December 23)? I'm sure there's a terrible smell coming off me that I just don't notice. But the showers at the hostel were co-ed and offered so little privacy and they charged six pounds for a towel! The first thing I'm going to do when I get back to the lycee is a take a long hot shower and wash my hair, then go up to the computer room and log into YouTube. I'll do my laundry tomorrow.
[Transcribed from my paper journal.]