This is the first time I've written a blog entry from my phone, so it'll be quite interesting to see how knackered my thumbs get if I write for too long...
I'm on my way back from Cambridge after visiting Will and Ciara for the weekend. It was the cherry on top of a grand week where I got a lot done, and got to spend almost every night doing something new. The most social I've been since I came to London! Will came down for a conference at one of the nearby hospitals. As a Cambridge phd student, he is in a position to make some very influential contacts, and my God did he make the most of it. He was particularly fond of a principle investigator called Dr Richard D. Rainbow. Some people are magnets for 'guid chat' :p.
We went out to wimbledon for a pint, where Will drilled holes in my project ideas. Whilst adding more gaping holes to my theoretical basis and ideas for protocols I can use with the MRI scanner can be annoying, it is the only way I can learn how to bung them over the course of this voyage. We got drunk, and my next day at uni was, surprisingly, massively productive.
On Thursday, we decided we needed to find a steak. Will made the best tourist I've shown around Central London yet, because his entire reaction to the houses of parliament was a brief unimpressed upturn of the eyes and, 'that's big'. Whereas to the London Eye he said 'that's that wheel aye? ' and moved on. People like him have a sense of scale I could desperately make use of. I've got a terrible habit of trying to make a story or record of every moment.
He says, writing this blog...
We sauntered along the South Bank and had a drink in the Royal festival hall, which is fast becoming my standard first 'date ' in London. We noticed none other than Gok Wan in one of those boutiques which sell random combinations of ceramic crap and clothing, nearby. I wanted a picture, Will didn't. He won, ruining my chance to take photos evidence of my vague proximity to someone I don't care about from the television.
We gambled our way up the Thames, forsaking gourmet pizza, pub steaks and stir fry joints in the hope that we would stumble upon the pearly, medium rare gates of a brilliant steakhouse before we starved to death. With great fortune, we chose to stick on the swan, a bar and restaurant attached to the globe theatre (reconstructed to look the same as when Shakespearean plays were performed there).
Every part of the EXPERIENCE of the meal, was top class. The waitress was beyond compare with her effortless politeness, slipping the word 'gentlemen ' into conversation instantly without a hint of scorn despite the sophistication of the establishment. She deserved every penny of her not-insubstantial tip! I would go so far as to ask for her if we went again. The view outside of the window beside our table was of the dome of St. Paul's cathedral, which started off striking and went somewhere else entirely when darkness fell and floodlights painted the exterior a sensational mix of restful warm tones and sharp shadowy blacks.
Best of all, was the meal itself. We drank fine wine (though far from the finest on the menu, or the price would've quadrupled!) had smooth islay whisky, delicious but otherwise unremarkable profiteroles, and... Oh bedt of all... The steaks. We had a 300g sirloin apiece, covered with heart-rendering perfect garlic butter. Each bite was met with a sudden weakness in the core muscles as our bodies redirected all its resources to experiencing every drop of that taste. I could not have stood from that table before that steak was done. It came with beef tomato, roasted olive oil covered red onions and chips. How they made something as simple as fucking CHIPS so top of the line, I'll never know. For the two hours it took us to finish the meal, my heart and mind were walking hand in hand through a world of insane adoration, with epiphany waiting around every corner.
Throw your computer to the ground and go to the fucking Swan!
There is a girl about my age with a lovely south English accent sitting in the same coach as me. We're on the train fairly early so we're alone on the entire train. Socially awkward penguin moment, which doesn't worry me at all. It's a character trait I accept that I shall always have flights of fancy with those pretty women I meet, but that's no excuse to try to breach the wall for no other reason than that I'm bored of being alone. Amazing the sort of banal nonsense I think up after spotting a pretty face. Then again, she's talking about shoes on the phone, so i guess we're both succumbing to stereotypes. Ah, a gentleman just sat across from me, so the spell is broken. Thus, to London!
On Friday night, we met with one of Will's old friends, had a basic dinner (our tastebuds were ruined for other food) and went out for a drink in Leicester Square. Apparently that us where all the film premiers happen, and i wasn't sure how I'd missed wandering around it despite being so familiar with covent Garden and the surrounding area. It was a good night, where I was given the chance to really, truly vent about an issue close to my heart. In the same way that I won't read my previous entry again, I think it is best to leave the experience in the past, but take the lessons forward.
So, Cambridge this weekend :). Seeing Ciara again was a blessing after so long, and just like my previous visit, i felt utterly at home in her company as well as will's. We engaged in the most intense game of drink-jenga you will ever know, and resorted to flirting with each individual block. We showed sone prowess with block removal that can ONLY be explained by our efforts in seduction.
I briefly met with my auntie Janie, who is a whole new experience every time. I hadn't been to her house since I was a young teenager, and i found myself walking through my own resurgent memories at the same time I entered through her door. Phantom images of her out of control garden were swiped away in puffs and smoke by the flush colours of the well maintained current reality. The furniture and the various scattered posters from the many places she has travelled to, matched the phantoms perfectly. Not to mention her bookshelves, which had been so full for so long they were bending in the middle.
We caught up over a beer, and for a beautiful moment, I felt like I had the respect of this heroic woman who had ceaselessly loved me, but now could actually related to me, and find my pursuits and achievements genuinely interesting. I left her company in wonderful spirits, feeling again that I had gone through some striking experience that I would carry with me for a long time. Though I would find it hard to relate exactly why.
I am now approaching Kings Cross in London, where I will slip onto a tube with my audio book in my ear, thinking about the past and the future in tandem. Shadow of the wind is a book with a compelling narrative, brought to life by its fascinating narrator. He draws you into a world where the past is explored through sheer curiosity, with a mystery only emerging as an almost accidental coincidence. It is perfect for teasing you into reflecting upon your own interests, in relation to those highlighted in the heart warming main characters.
Turns out my thumbs are pretty sore, but I'll spend a few more moments linking in some pictures.
I hope you have a good Sunday. Until next time.
I'm on my way back from Cambridge after visiting Will and Ciara for the weekend. It was the cherry on top of a grand week where I got a lot done, and got to spend almost every night doing something new. The most social I've been since I came to London! Will came down for a conference at one of the nearby hospitals. As a Cambridge phd student, he is in a position to make some very influential contacts, and my God did he make the most of it. He was particularly fond of a principle investigator called Dr Richard D. Rainbow. Some people are magnets for 'guid chat' :p.
 |
| Will loving the hell out of Piccadilly Circus (aka shit Times Square) |
We went out to wimbledon for a pint, where Will drilled holes in my project ideas. Whilst adding more gaping holes to my theoretical basis and ideas for protocols I can use with the MRI scanner can be annoying, it is the only way I can learn how to bung them over the course of this voyage. We got drunk, and my next day at uni was, surprisingly, massively productive.
On Thursday, we decided we needed to find a steak. Will made the best tourist I've shown around Central London yet, because his entire reaction to the houses of parliament was a brief unimpressed upturn of the eyes and, 'that's big'. Whereas to the London Eye he said 'that's that wheel aye? ' and moved on. People like him have a sense of scale I could desperately make use of. I've got a terrible habit of trying to make a story or record of every moment.
He says, writing this blog...
We sauntered along the South Bank and had a drink in the Royal festival hall, which is fast becoming my standard first 'date ' in London. We noticed none other than Gok Wan in one of those boutiques which sell random combinations of ceramic crap and clothing, nearby. I wanted a picture, Will didn't. He won, ruining my chance to take photos evidence of my vague proximity to someone I don't care about from the television.
We gambled our way up the Thames, forsaking gourmet pizza, pub steaks and stir fry joints in the hope that we would stumble upon the pearly, medium rare gates of a brilliant steakhouse before we starved to death. With great fortune, we chose to stick on the swan, a bar and restaurant attached to the globe theatre (reconstructed to look the same as when Shakespearean plays were performed there).
Every part of the EXPERIENCE of the meal, was top class. The waitress was beyond compare with her effortless politeness, slipping the word 'gentlemen ' into conversation instantly without a hint of scorn despite the sophistication of the establishment. She deserved every penny of her not-insubstantial tip! I would go so far as to ask for her if we went again. The view outside of the window beside our table was of the dome of St. Paul's cathedral, which started off striking and went somewhere else entirely when darkness fell and floodlights painted the exterior a sensational mix of restful warm tones and sharp shadowy blacks.
 |
| View from our window |
Throw your computer to the ground and go to the fucking Swan!
 |
| Steak and awwwGodeverythingisamazing |
On Friday night, we met with one of Will's old friends, had a basic dinner (our tastebuds were ruined for other food) and went out for a drink in Leicester Square. Apparently that us where all the film premiers happen, and i wasn't sure how I'd missed wandering around it despite being so familiar with covent Garden and the surrounding area. It was a good night, where I was given the chance to really, truly vent about an issue close to my heart. In the same way that I won't read my previous entry again, I think it is best to leave the experience in the past, but take the lessons forward.
 |
| Leicester Square |
I briefly met with my auntie Janie, who is a whole new experience every time. I hadn't been to her house since I was a young teenager, and i found myself walking through my own resurgent memories at the same time I entered through her door. Phantom images of her out of control garden were swiped away in puffs and smoke by the flush colours of the well maintained current reality. The furniture and the various scattered posters from the many places she has travelled to, matched the phantoms perfectly. Not to mention her bookshelves, which had been so full for so long they were bending in the middle.
We caught up over a beer, and for a beautiful moment, I felt like I had the respect of this heroic woman who had ceaselessly loved me, but now could actually related to me, and find my pursuits and achievements genuinely interesting. I left her company in wonderful spirits, feeling again that I had gone through some striking experience that I would carry with me for a long time. Though I would find it hard to relate exactly why.
I am now approaching Kings Cross in London, where I will slip onto a tube with my audio book in my ear, thinking about the past and the future in tandem. Shadow of the wind is a book with a compelling narrative, brought to life by its fascinating narrator. He draws you into a world where the past is explored through sheer curiosity, with a mystery only emerging as an almost accidental coincidence. It is perfect for teasing you into reflecting upon your own interests, in relation to those highlighted in the heart warming main characters.
Turns out my thumbs are pretty sore, but I'll spend a few more moments linking in some pictures.
I hope you have a good Sunday. Until next time.
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