I would really like to tell you all about my day, but some bonehead at the computer next to me is listening to his ipod SO LOUD that I can barely hear the voices in my head. And it's this repetitive rap music. I would swear he has one song on endless repeat. I can hear the lyrics. Hang on, I'll tell you what they are:
Trying to get a talking to!
Yeah, I'm trying to get a talking to!
(drum solo. And not kidding, he's drumming along with a pen.)
Who needs to listen to their ipod so loud? What kind of monkey turns up their ipod loud enough so everyone can hear it, and then drums along with a pen? Oh, I am getting too old for student computer labs. It's nothing but instant messaging, pub stories, and rap music down here.
More lyrics:
Round and round, now write this down
Oh, baby go round and round and write this down!
I'll tell you what. I AM writing this down, and it's no great shakes. Certainly it's nothing worth losing your hearing over. I'm just glad the drum solo is over. For now, anyway.
Anyway, in brief. It's Saturday. You know what that means: PORTOBELLO ROAD! We trekked our way across the park to Notting Hill Gate and walked up and down the open markets. I've never seen so many open air markets in my life, nor have I seen so many slutty t-shirts and incense sticks. I liked all the fresh fruit and vegetables, and the flower stands were mighty impressive. We had crepes with hazelnut and chocolate on them. This lady shouted something at me, but I didn't understand her. She was really intense in this thing she was shouting at me. I felt lost and afraid. I asked her to repeat herself. Turns out, she was hawking raspberries. I think she screams at people all day to buy her raspberries.
I was wearing some old cargo pants that I had cut into long shorts, and a man in the middle of the market told me that that was a "really good idea." I walked down the streets in slow motion and Mark and Lexi sang "Aint No Sunshine," while I pretended to be Hugh Grant. No sign of Julia Roberts, the blue door, or the Travel Book Shop, and the seasons didn't change. But I did buy a Django Reinhardt CD and a scarf for the world's most beautiful woman, who I will be seeing five hours from now. 
Tonight after a fantastic viewing of The Crucible, (a comedy....tonight!) we walked almost the entire way home. It was a beautiful night. Warm, and full of big city energy. We walked through Leicester, down to Trafalgar, across to Buckingham, through St. James' park, and caught the tube for two more stops. We sat on the steps of Metrogate and chatted until late. There is something alive and refreshing about London on a Saturday night. There may be something appealing about getting madly drunk and dancing and hooting on a London fun bus, but I think there is also something pretty appealing about chatting with good friends on a warm summer night at the edge of the Trafalgar fountains.
