Adventures in Europe, Day 21: London
Slightly bizarre day, this one. I had intended to go see Júlía's noon concert today, but didn't know where or exactly what time it was. By the time we got in touch, it was about time for me to leave, so I packed up and caught the DLR at Cutty Sark. As it turns out, transferring to the District and Circle lines at Bank is a complete disaster. The signage was completely convoluted, and I ended up leaving the Bank station and having to walk above ground all the way to Monument Station. When I got in there, I heard a guy in front of me ask for the Circle and District lines, and he was pointed away from the entrance gates and told to go back out and up the stairs to the left. I decided to ask as well, just to be sure, and was told to follow the first guy. I lost sight of him and tried to follow the overheard directions, but ended up outside in the middle of a busy street, with no signs, no information, no nothing pointing me to any trains. To make matters worse, I had an inaccurate phone number for Júlía, so I couldn't call her directly. I then called Sólrún and asked her to relay to Júlía that I might not make it due to train troubles. Deciding that I had to make one last attempt, I decided to go down into the station again and go through the gate the employees had pointed me away from. And...
...lo and behold, they had been pointing me in the COMPLETELY WRONG DIRECTION! The train tracks were right behind them, and I was on a District Line train in the right direction within minutes. Unfortunately, the whole fiasco had cost me a good 10 minutes, and the District is a slow line, so I didn't make it to the station until about 5 minutes before the concert was to start, and it's a 10-15 minute walk from the East Kensington station to the Royal College. I tried sprinting it, but there simply wasn't enough time, and when I was still several blocks away at the scheduled starting time of the concert, I decided to cut my losses and turn back.
I had resolved this morning to go back to Camden Town and triple-check that the 65-pound price tag had referred to the entire tweed and not just the jacket, on which the label was hung. If so, I was willing to invest in it, if not, I would simply have to pass. As it turned out, it was my lucky day (albeit my wallet's unlucky one), and I walked away one tweed the richer and 65 quid the poorer.
In order to curb the outflow of money from my pocket, I boarded the first train I could catch away from that splendidly dangerous place and made a beeline back for Greenwich. Of course, when I got there I realized that my arrival coincided exactly with Sólrún's violin lesson, leaving me locked out. I managed to get into her building by following a resident, and sat in the hallway and read until she got back. Alda joined us for dinner, for which we made another iteration of the risotto, this one with vegetables, and had ice cream and fruit for dessert. After dinner, we stayed up for a bit and played cards - rummy always was a fun game - until Alda had to go back to Kingston.
Alda and I are going to meet at King's Cross tomorrow before I have to catch my train at 7, and take some vintage-looking pictures with the tweed and accessories. It's really bizarre to think that tomorrow night, I'll be in Paris, and yet I'm just sitting around playing cards and planning photoshoots. Cramming the suitcase tomorrow will be quite some fun...
...lo and behold, they had been pointing me in the COMPLETELY WRONG DIRECTION! The train tracks were right behind them, and I was on a District Line train in the right direction within minutes. Unfortunately, the whole fiasco had cost me a good 10 minutes, and the District is a slow line, so I didn't make it to the station until about 5 minutes before the concert was to start, and it's a 10-15 minute walk from the East Kensington station to the Royal College. I tried sprinting it, but there simply wasn't enough time, and when I was still several blocks away at the scheduled starting time of the concert, I decided to cut my losses and turn back.
I had resolved this morning to go back to Camden Town and triple-check that the 65-pound price tag had referred to the entire tweed and not just the jacket, on which the label was hung. If so, I was willing to invest in it, if not, I would simply have to pass. As it turned out, it was my lucky day (albeit my wallet's unlucky one), and I walked away one tweed the richer and 65 quid the poorer.
In order to curb the outflow of money from my pocket, I boarded the first train I could catch away from that splendidly dangerous place and made a beeline back for Greenwich. Of course, when I got there I realized that my arrival coincided exactly with Sólrún's violin lesson, leaving me locked out. I managed to get into her building by following a resident, and sat in the hallway and read until she got back. Alda joined us for dinner, for which we made another iteration of the risotto, this one with vegetables, and had ice cream and fruit for dessert. After dinner, we stayed up for a bit and played cards - rummy always was a fun game - until Alda had to go back to Kingston.
Alda and I are going to meet at King's Cross tomorrow before I have to catch my train at 7, and take some vintage-looking pictures with the tweed and accessories. It's really bizarre to think that tomorrow night, I'll be in Paris, and yet I'm just sitting around playing cards and planning photoshoots. Cramming the suitcase tomorrow will be quite some fun...