What a Week

A friend emailed and asked how my week went. "Oh, you know," I replied, "Did my washing, went to the gym, had a letter published in Time Out. The usual." Yes, I had a letter published in Time Out. TIME OUT! The denizen of London magazines, the weekly forum for all things happening in the capitol, the publication read by millions, with only one page of letters carefully culled from probable thousands of submissions--and I, I was published. I've decided to write a letter every decade from now on. Exactly 10 years ago I was published in Vogue, so there must be something to it. Or maybe it's just the criticism: last time it was about an ugly model; this time it was about a writer who referred to an American with a, and I quote, 'Manhattan drawl.' I calmly and precisely pointed out that there is no such thing. Can't wait to see if I have any responses in next week's issue!

So yes, it's been a week all right. Those of you who are avid readers will know that the peace protest went right by my work and that I watched the marchers go by for hours on Thursday, conflicting emotions washing over me. I ended my last post by saying I was going to go straight home, but I wanted to observe the rally in Trafalgar Square. And observe I did, as I stood there with tens of thousands of people of all ages, races, and backgrounds. Estimations put the numbers around 100,000+, and I believe it. I'd never felt so good as when the speaker announced, 'We're not here because we hate Americans, we're here because we hate George Bush!' and the whole square erupted in cheers and applause. Shortly after, I left for the tube station, but when I got there I was astounded to see the parade still going on. So I joined in. I wanted to feel what the marchers were feeling--the excitement, the bonding with strangers. And as I walked along to the beat of drums, surrounded by people blowing whistles and horns and directly in front of people shouting anti-Bush and -Blair calls-and-responses, I felt a surge of energy, of patriotism, of activism. And the funny thing is, I bet those who marched in parades in Nazi Germany felt the same emotions. It's part of human nature to be so moved.

***
My dear friend Esther arrived on Saturday morning (too late for us to watch the World Cup rugby match, which England spectacularly won), to find me slightly groggy from having gone out with my workmates on Friday night. We all had one cocktail too many, and they convinced me that even though my parents are arriving on the 19th of December, I really shouldn't see them until the 20th because I'll be too drunk from going to the annual Christmas lunch. The one last year lasted 6 hours. So, Mom and Dad, if you're reading this--I'm sorry, but you'll have to entertain yourself. I have to work. Hehe--"work."

Right. Esther studied in Reading, near London, so she's a pro and knows exactly what she wants to see. Plus she took me to some places I hadn't been before--now that's the kind of guest I like! In the past two days we've been, to wit:

Borough Market

past the Golden Hinde

by the Clink

the Tate Modern (where we laid on the floor in front of their amazing new exhibit, a giant sun)

on the Millennium Bridge

down Fleet Street and the Strand

to the new Electric Storm exhibition on the South Bank (disappointingly not turned on)

to St. Paul's for vespers

And today:

to Greenwich, a 10-minute train ride from London

to the Royal Observatory to see the Prime Meridian and learn about longitude

to the Queen's House, designed by Inigo Jones for Queen Anne of Denmark, where they filmed scenes from Sense & Sensibility

past the house of Daniel Day-Lewis's grandfather, the poet-laureate of England

to the ultra-fun Fan Museum and its Orangery for a cream tea

past Sir Francis Drake's magnificent Golden Hinde

to the fabulously cute Greenwich Market

on the Docklands Light Railway, past the Docklands all lit up at night

...and back home by 7 p.m.!

Not bad for one weekend, eh? I'd never been to the Tate Modern, St. Paul's, or Greenwich, and loved all of them, especially the last. Greenwich is so cute it almost seems contrived, as if city planners sat down and said, 'All right, how can we make this the cutest place possible?' Yes, it's that nice.

***
I'll be running around left and right this week, especially with our other friend, Rich, getting in on Wednesday, and our huge Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday. To everyone back home: Happy Thanksgiving!

Theresa