![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
That's right. You read me correctly.
Friday daytime was an open rehearsal for the London Symphony Orchestra, which I shamefully admit I slept most of the way through. But it's not my fault that it takes forever to get to the Barbican. If it were, trust me, I would fix it. Class was thankfully light, we went to Sir John Soane's house museum. An architect of the Royal Academy who made his house into a museum to show off his talent (he looked nice enough in the portrait over the fireplace, but making one's house into a museum by one's own self seems a little hifalutin' to me). Admittedly, he had the alabaster sarcophogus of Seti I in the basement, so I guess that was cool.
Anyway, the real fun began Friday night. We basically took over the kitchen downstairs with the cooking and eating and generally being loud and having a ton of fun. It was BYOB, so I B'd, and got pretty drunk. Not gonna lie. I was hardly the most drunk, but there was no regulation of body temperature which means I am getting pretty toasted. </TMI> So we had a fantastic cast of characters including a self-absorbed heiress with poor social skills (me), her mother, her ex-boyfriend, the ex-boyfriend's date the host and hostess, the hostess' two sisters, the cook, an MP (member of parliament), and an old lesbian couple (one being a retired professor and one being a lush who ran a charity for mentally handicapped children), and a rap artist. And of course, there was Christian, playing the fabulous butler, Mr Cotton. He rocked, for the record.
( My pictures from the evening... kind of suck. I'll see if I can comandeer someone else's. )
The best part may have been when we were doing the "Whodunit" part of the night, and there were flashing lights outside of the window. The police had arrived! Christian opened the doors and jumped onto the balcony, waving his arms ultimately creating what must have been an interesting spectacle for anyone in the house across the street. Turns out it was only the garbage man. Boo. :( He also overturned a desk, and said, "I GET ANXIOUS WHEN THERE IS A MURDERER ON THE LOOSE!" Hilarious man.
Ultimately, it was a nice evening for all of us to spend together (except for Elena and Philippe, who were in Wales with Elena's parents), and just have some fun and drink a lot of alcohol... I mean have really good food.
So I waited up quite a bit, felt awkward as John talked to his girlfriend (I can only assume it was a girlfriend) on Skype, and drank some water to sober up a bit. Saturday was a day for work wherein I... have done laundry! That's something, right? Right it is. I've started a class response for Much Ado About Nothing in iambic pentameter because Neil asked for creativity and I am going to give it to him, by god. (Reason 428574208 to love this man: he holds office hours in the pub around the corner. Enough said.)
( So. Laundry. )
The ultimate decision? Not the best, but worth it since you don't walk around smelling like you've been in Europe for six weeks without washing your clothes. (It's late. My gift of colorful metaphor has already gone to bed.)
( And since my dad requested more pictures of me (a bit difficult when you're the one taking the pictures, by the way, dad)... )
Tomorrow is touristing with Allison, Parissa, and their friends that arrived tonight. You might not see all that junk until Monday, where Parissa and I are stage dooring for The Dumbwaiter (or is it The Dumb Waiter? This could be important) to meet Jason Isaacs. I'm sure the other guy in it is great too, but Jason Isaacs. Tuesday is the day trip to Bath, Stonehenge, and Avebury (which is much less well known but you can actually go up among the stones). And I'll let you read my verse tribute to Much Ado at the Globe. :)
Friday daytime was an open rehearsal for the London Symphony Orchestra, which I shamefully admit I slept most of the way through. But it's not my fault that it takes forever to get to the Barbican. If it were, trust me, I would fix it. Class was thankfully light, we went to Sir John Soane's house museum. An architect of the Royal Academy who made his house into a museum to show off his talent (he looked nice enough in the portrait over the fireplace, but making one's house into a museum by one's own self seems a little hifalutin' to me). Admittedly, he had the alabaster sarcophogus of Seti I in the basement, so I guess that was cool.
Anyway, the real fun began Friday night. We basically took over the kitchen downstairs with the cooking and eating and generally being loud and having a ton of fun. It was BYOB, so I B'd, and got pretty drunk. Not gonna lie. I was hardly the most drunk, but there was no regulation of body temperature which means I am getting pretty toasted. </TMI> So we had a fantastic cast of characters including a self-absorbed heiress with poor social skills (me), her mother, her ex-boyfriend, the ex-boyfriend's date the host and hostess, the hostess' two sisters, the cook, an MP (member of parliament), and an old lesbian couple (one being a retired professor and one being a lush who ran a charity for mentally handicapped children), and a rap artist. And of course, there was Christian, playing the fabulous butler, Mr Cotton. He rocked, for the record.
( My pictures from the evening... kind of suck. I'll see if I can comandeer someone else's. )
The best part may have been when we were doing the "Whodunit" part of the night, and there were flashing lights outside of the window. The police had arrived! Christian opened the doors and jumped onto the balcony, waving his arms ultimately creating what must have been an interesting spectacle for anyone in the house across the street. Turns out it was only the garbage man. Boo. :( He also overturned a desk, and said, "I GET ANXIOUS WHEN THERE IS A MURDERER ON THE LOOSE!" Hilarious man.
Ultimately, it was a nice evening for all of us to spend together (except for Elena and Philippe, who were in Wales with Elena's parents), and just have some fun and drink a lot of alcohol... I mean have really good food.
So I waited up quite a bit, felt awkward as John talked to his girlfriend (I can only assume it was a girlfriend) on Skype, and drank some water to sober up a bit. Saturday was a day for work wherein I... have done laundry! That's something, right? Right it is. I've started a class response for Much Ado About Nothing in iambic pentameter because Neil asked for creativity and I am going to give it to him, by god. (Reason 428574208 to love this man: he holds office hours in the pub around the corner. Enough said.)
( So. Laundry. )
The ultimate decision? Not the best, but worth it since you don't walk around smelling like you've been in Europe for six weeks without washing your clothes. (It's late. My gift of colorful metaphor has already gone to bed.)
( And since my dad requested more pictures of me (a bit difficult when you're the one taking the pictures, by the way, dad)... )
Tomorrow is touristing with Allison, Parissa, and their friends that arrived tonight. You might not see all that junk until Monday, where Parissa and I are stage dooring for The Dumbwaiter (or is it The Dumb Waiter? This could be important) to meet Jason Isaacs. I'm sure the other guy in it is great too, but Jason Isaacs. Tuesday is the day trip to Bath, Stonehenge, and Avebury (which is much less well known but you can actually go up among the stones). And I'll let you read my verse tribute to Much Ado at the Globe. :)