The Wolverines are here in full force, and I mean that literally. FULL. FORCE. I struggle with occasional jet-lag, but it sure didn't seem to phase this squadron of 14 who bravely rolled their luggage across Kensington and back into my life. Sure, there was a mix-up at the front stoop - something about them waiting an hour for me to open the door - because I couldn't "hear" them - because the buzzers are apparently "broken" but nobody told me; anyway all this was forgotten once I gave everyone an appropriate hug and a wink.And then we set off. Day one means walking. Walking, and then some. My MO is twofold: show them the neighborhood and keep them awake. Turns out I didn't need to worry about keeping them awake. They kept demanding more walking, so that's what I gave them. We hit the usual Kensington highlights - Hyde Park Chapel, Metrogate, the double-decker...even big, golden Albert seemed to shine a little brighter today. (That was, in no way, a euphemism.)
When evening hit, we went out again. This time, we went into the city. We let our conscience be our guide. Our conscience led us to some interesting places.
We looked over the Millennium Bridge and pondered the poetic ways of silt.
We found a really fantastic art instillation. It's a bunch of light poles that respond to human frequency. We had to wait in line to get into the instillation, but it was worth it. We formed organized patterns of movement so that the light poles would do funky things, like make purple light, and then crazy techno music would come on. One time I started dancing like "Thriller" but it did not catch on. At one point, we laid on the floor and the light poles went all kinds of crazy. When we finished, the lady in charge of the exhibition said we were "brilliant" and the best group she'd seen in the entire exhibition. Wow, not to brag or anything with that story! Another thing about this instillation is that we made contact with a dodgy man in a stripy sweater.
More walking. Hungerford Bridge, my favorite bridge.
Daniel was accosted by some kind of a street performer wearing a tutu and a cop jacket. Also, sporting a Hitler moustache. Political statement, or pervert? Daniel didn't seem to care.
Something new I'm trying is this: when a student asks me what some building is, and I don't know, instead of saying "I don't know," I say "that's where Queen Elizabeth was born." I really hope none of them read this blog.
While walking past Herman Melville's house, Kevin began to harpoon Alex in an homage to Moby Dick. Just another chapter in the exciting life of drama nerds!
Trafalgar Square, with the big lions and the dirty statue. Leicester Square, with the big lights and the dirty kebab shops. All the squares.
Seriously, nothing says a jolly holiday in London like a Subway Sandwich!
Walking home down the Mall, passing ever reverently the admiral's nose.
Finally, St. James' park, with ghost stories and duck spitting.
