Friday, Sept 27
The end of the work week...cue the PUB LYFE. I got carded, ok and moving on.
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| Me and Chels at The Sussex |
I was walking to the tube station from my internship with a foreign man on my left and this lady, as shown riding the cart below, walking on my right. The man with the cart was a little ahead of both of us speaking on his cell ("mobile") phone. She then starts off on a little hop-skip-gallop to the cart, and sits ever so gently on it, and the dude is COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS. I starting laughing so hard with the man on my left, and she turned to both of us and "shh!-ed" us. I don't know when cart man noticed her, I had turned the corner and she was still getting a free ride at that point.
Saturday, Sept 28
Wimbledon
Say WHAT. Cha.
LIFE CHANGING. The stadium was completely empty but the spirit! The history! The grass! Oh I loved it all. Everyone, including old-lady-Heather-Wimbledon-encyclopedia-best-tour-guide-leader-ever, thought I was crazy as at ever turn I seemed to shriek, and "OH my GOD," and send requests to the other tourers asking, "Please, can you take of picture of me? My mother will kill me if I don't get one, please, thank you; she will appreciate it," throughout the entire thing.
And CENTRE COURT HELLO. I wanted to run across the grass like Drew Barrymore running towards Jimmy Fallon on the Fenway Park grass in "Fever Pitch."
"'You gotta tell me wait, the outfield-the grass... is it spongy?'"
The score board is still up!!! Oh, Andy, the pride of Britain (slight reference to "The Fighter"... the pride of Lowell... Dicky's comeback!)
And the longest match in tennis history occurred right in this little court. American John Isner v. Frenchman Nicolas Mahut. ELEVEN HOURS five minutes, OVER THREE DAYS, with a total of 183 games. Unreal. Props.
The whole place is amazing. In the Wimbledon museum I found that this quote embodied everything that I felt on the grounds I had yet to explore:
"[Wimbledon is] the comfort of a grandparent with the energy of a teenager." -Martina Navratilova
Later in the day: Home sweet home with NFL Block Party on Regent Street for tonight's Steelers-Vikings game.
And British Anthropologie, floating feathers, perfect and expensive and excessive and out of my budget. I had my eye on some nice warm winter navy tights with cute little orange foxes on them but I resisted.
Browncroft shout out to momma Shar-bear on Newcastle keeping Karen on track 24/7/365.
