When you say that title, make it rhyme. It's far more amusing that way. Also, here are a few things I've been thinking about: how good do you have to be to have people start naming a time period after you? Like "Victorian" or "Shakespearean?" In other words, what would I have to do to get people to refer to this time period as "Raino-Ogdean?" (Or would it be "Raino-Ogdenean?") Would I have write on par with Shakespeare? Create a new genre, maybe, like a fantastical memoir of my life? Or just be plain awesome and make sure the whole world knows it? We shall see.
Anyways, I just have a few things to report to you all. 1) I went to an Indian restaurant for the first time in my life, and I loved it. Why does the rest of the world not put as much flavor in their food? It was SO GOOD. And I fell in love with nan, which is basically puffy bread that makes life good. In other news, the waitstaff in British restaurants (including Indian British restaurants) are not of the mindset that the customer is always right. In fact, I think that they think we should be darn grateful they are gracing us with their presence. I mean, if they weren't there, we'd have to get the food ourselves. For example, in London, we asked our waiter if we could do separate checks, and he told us no, it was inconvenient. And then yesterday, at the Indian Restaurant, one of the waiters tipped Elizabeth's glass over and spilled water all over her. He did not even say sorry. At all. He just went about his business. (Unfortunately, gratuity was included). How absurd! In America, the waiters would have been all over, apologizing profusely, and maybe give you a free dessert.
So then later that night, whilst we were sitting in the basement and laughing about Jamaican drunks (or the lack thereof), there was a ring on the doorbell. Keep in mind this is at around 11:30, maybe midnight. Kristyn goes to answer the door, and then we hear a man's voice. A man who is clearly A) over sixty and B) off his rocker. He was saying, "Please take me to the bank," and "if I am killed, tell the police it was murder," and "You are Americano?" So we go halfway up the stairs after about a minute, because we didn't want to let this man know there were eight women in here, and if he was a beggar, I didn't want to encourage him to keep asking for help. But he was inside our house. Like standing inside the hallway. And he wasn't leaving. So I eventually went up to him (in my superhero act of bravery) and told him, "The police station is just out this way," but he didn't really understand English, so I had to say this more than once. And he still didn't leave. But he had dropped one of his bags on our stairs, so I grabbed for it, and said, "Do you need help?" And he didn't want me touching his things, so he said no, picked it up, and I ushered him out of our house.
Then we called the police, of course, and they later caught him. Apparently they know him over there. So then the next day we got a visit from Lindsay, who gave us some chocolates called "Heroes." How sweet! So, that was the excitement last night. Today, we talked about King Lear some more and then I went to Cafe Nero and thought about the villains of Jane Austen. Good day.
This week, I also got a wonderful card from my grandparents (THANK YOU!!), filled with a dream catcher and earrings and a card that was beautiful. (I think I deciphered all of it... ;) They are hanging up on my bulletin board in my room, and make my day brighter. Alright, nighty night! I hope you all stay safe and crazy man free!
hugs,
LPro
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