So I spent the weekend in London with Jess after arriving in Victoria station on the British Pullman. On the first night, we went with two of her friends to a real pub, so I checked that off the list. I wanted some Irish coffee, but they were out of coffee, so I just stole sips of Jess's beer and shared pulled pork quesadillas with her. After, we did some awkward grocery shopping: lemon cakes and yogurt and wine.
The next morning we caught the tube to Camden Market, where we ate pierogis, browsed a bookstore, and then got lattes and shopped more. I acquired two items of clothing, both of which feature an owl pattern. I also talked Jess into getting an enormous leather journal with a scary engraved pentagram on the cover.
We dropped our things off at her flat, put on tights, did our hair, and rushed off to tea at the Swan at Shakespeare's Globe. On the way there, we found a man clicking away at a typewriter alongside the river, next to street performers. The sign in front of his mint green typewriter read:
Literature While You Wait: short stories, poems, suicide notes. Pay what you goddamn like.
I would not shut up about it as we reached the restaurant.
Tea was the usual tiny sandwiches, scones, and little sweets including a citrusy custard we couldn't identify (pineapple) and the darkest chocolate cake bite. It was so rich it almost made me sick. It took a while to get the check, but then once we did, we walked back along the river and I pestered Jess enough that we finally went back to the literature-while-you-wait guy. After he explained it, I asked for a poem and we were told to wait for ten to fifteen minutes. We walked around, passed several of London's floating chair people, and one accordion player playing right under a No Busking sign. The typist eventually found us and told us that my poem was done, so I bought a poem for three pounds about missed connections in an art gallery.
We ordered Chinese food that night, popped the Orient Express champagne, and started our new novels.
The next morning, we woke up with every intention of doing tourist things in London! Yes, we declared. Today we will see Saint Paul's Cathedral and also maybe the British Museum. Yes, good. We debated for all of five minutes before we agreed that we did not in fact want to take a tour and instead we wanted food, so we made a quick reservation at the Swan, pulled our clothes on, and ran over for breakfast. I had my first full English breakfast, Jess had eggs Benedict, and we both had mimosas, which masquerade under the name "Bucks Fizz" in the UK, apparently. We returned to her flat after food, changed back into pajamas, and wrote.
That night, Leah showed up and we ordered Chinese food and wrote and discussed politics and it all felt very West Hall from last year.
I ended my weekend with another writing sprint the next morning and then I got on the last train of the weekend, which took me to Heathrow Airport. The last exciting aspect of the trip was that I had the whole row to myself on the plane to Madrid and that I set foot in Spain, but it was only for two hours.
And next weekend is vacation too.
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