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echoing_dreamWe lost to France. Again. And I was really hoping for some wins this year! Scotland fans seem to live in hope. *sighs*
I am never living in London. It’s fun for a few hours, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in a massive city where everyone is so rude. They say northerners are the cold ones in this country, but if I had to choose between being lost in London and being lost in Edinburgh, I’d take Edinburgh every time.
I love the Camden markets because they’re always changing. There are the more traditional shops (there’s a Victorian corsetry shop just over the bridge before the market and I just want to buy their whole shop. Unfortunatly, I will never have enough money. Not even for a skirt.), and they change more slowly, but the stalls keep moving around and expanding, and I think if you looked for long enough you could find pretty much anything you wanted.
Mostly, I found a lot of expensive skirts (which I couldn’t afford), some less expensive dresses (which didn’t fit quite right), and a kind of shawl-with-sleeves type thing that’s really thin but really warm. I’m wearing it now and it’s very snugly. And also blue. I looked for a ring with an iguana on it, but my fingers are stupidly skinny, so there weren’t any in my size. And Sarah's hands are too wide, so neither of us could find rings to fit. We couldn't convince Ben to try any dresses on either *snickers*.
We also visited the Natural History Museum, and I met a polar bear on one of the displays. I'm not too sure how I felt about seeing him all stuffed and shut in a glass cage, it was a little odd... Then we walked to another part of the museum and went past a display about global warming which was showing a clip of a polar bear in the arctic. I jumped up and down and shouted “Polar Bear”, pointing and startling some poor woman who was about my Mum’s age. I apologised profusely, but she just grinned and said “polar bear?” in an understanding sort of way. So I beamed and was all “sorry, it was the polar bear” and she understood! Yay for the polar bear!
Sarah wanted us to eat in Camden, but Ben and I put our feet down because there was already trouble over there and the police were all over the place. So Sarah was pissed at me for the four hours it took us to get home, which put a bit of a downer on our trip. She also happens to be one of those people who stops in entrances, exits, or other public walking spaces, which wound me tighter and tighter throughout the day, so I was very twitchy and agitated which didn’t help matters.
And again with the Northerners-are-nicer: on the train back at night carriage was reasonably quiet, only our group and another two women were talking, so our conversations kind of play off each others’ without actively talking to each other. Ours was the last stop, and the woman’s oldest son (who was fourteen or so) walked over to the doors as we slowed down for the last few miles into the station. He opened the window and poked his head out like dogs do in cars on the motorway. His mother told him off and shared a glance with me and we both went “boys!” and shook our heads. Apparently I am old. But you couldn’t do that in London! Only in Derbyshire. And Scotland. And Wales. And maybe Cornwall.
Proof that Rugby is better than football:
[WTF happened to my Facebook page!? If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. Or at least have an ‘opt out’. Fucking Facebook, no wonder I keep forgetting it’s there… And how am I meant to log out!? THIS MAKES NO SENSE!]
I am never living in London. It’s fun for a few hours, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in a massive city where everyone is so rude. They say northerners are the cold ones in this country, but if I had to choose between being lost in London and being lost in Edinburgh, I’d take Edinburgh every time.
I love the Camden markets because they’re always changing. There are the more traditional shops (there’s a Victorian corsetry shop just over the bridge before the market and I just want to buy their whole shop. Unfortunatly, I will never have enough money. Not even for a skirt.), and they change more slowly, but the stalls keep moving around and expanding, and I think if you looked for long enough you could find pretty much anything you wanted.
Mostly, I found a lot of expensive skirts (which I couldn’t afford), some less expensive dresses (which didn’t fit quite right), and a kind of shawl-with-sleeves type thing that’s really thin but really warm. I’m wearing it now and it’s very snugly. And also blue. I looked for a ring with an iguana on it, but my fingers are stupidly skinny, so there weren’t any in my size. And Sarah's hands are too wide, so neither of us could find rings to fit. We couldn't convince Ben to try any dresses on either *snickers*.
We also visited the Natural History Museum, and I met a polar bear on one of the displays. I'm not too sure how I felt about seeing him all stuffed and shut in a glass cage, it was a little odd... Then we walked to another part of the museum and went past a display about global warming which was showing a clip of a polar bear in the arctic. I jumped up and down and shouted “Polar Bear”, pointing and startling some poor woman who was about my Mum’s age. I apologised profusely, but she just grinned and said “polar bear?” in an understanding sort of way. So I beamed and was all “sorry, it was the polar bear” and she understood! Yay for the polar bear!
Sarah wanted us to eat in Camden, but Ben and I put our feet down because there was already trouble over there and the police were all over the place. So Sarah was pissed at me for the four hours it took us to get home, which put a bit of a downer on our trip. She also happens to be one of those people who stops in entrances, exits, or other public walking spaces, which wound me tighter and tighter throughout the day, so I was very twitchy and agitated which didn’t help matters.
And again with the Northerners-are-nicer: on the train back at night carriage was reasonably quiet, only our group and another two women were talking, so our conversations kind of play off each others’ without actively talking to each other. Ours was the last stop, and the woman’s oldest son (who was fourteen or so) walked over to the doors as we slowed down for the last few miles into the station. He opened the window and poked his head out like dogs do in cars on the motorway. His mother told him off and shared a glance with me and we both went “boys!” and shook our heads. Apparently I am old. But you couldn’t do that in London! Only in Derbyshire. And Scotland. And Wales. And maybe Cornwall.
Proof that Rugby is better than football:
[WTF happened to my Facebook page!? If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. Or at least have an ‘opt out’. Fucking Facebook, no wonder I keep forgetting it’s there… And how am I meant to log out!? THIS MAKES NO SENSE!]
