painting the town

Three days ago I had my first Hot Crossed Bun experience. Yes, it deserves the capital letters. They're yummy.

They have raisins, something like dates, maybe some cinnamon, and they're GOOD. Hot with butter. They served them to us at the dining hall for our last dinner there before (the equivalent of) spring break.

Speaking of spring break, mine has begun!

Saturday I flew with Lois (a friend from University) to London. [She lives near London and I was migrating to see Jean.]

Last night we had every intention of getting up early to be productive to get a few things done before our trip, but we had forgotten about daylight savings time. Oops. Clocks switched. We got up at 9 [8.30 was the plan], decided not to be quite as productive, and made our way to Covent Gardens.

Covent Gardens is amazing. There was an opera singer and musicians playing for change and to sell cds. [Dad would love this.] I'm pretty sure they were professionals just having a good time on a Sunday morning. A folk musician played on the street outside. Sad songs, mostly. I tried not to listen too hard. Sad music on a sunny Sunday? I think not. There was a market thing with a lot of stalls of random things. [Mom would love this.] Much like the Mexican Market in San Antonio or that other road I went to with Jean last time I was here. (Don't remember the name, sadly. I'll have to ask Jean.)

We wandered around for a while, until my stomach could no longer be ignored in its protesting for food. We managed to find a nice little place that was still serving breakfast at 8.29, and I wolfed down one of the best English breakfasts I've had in a while. And I mean wolfed. I finished my entire HUGE plate of food before Jean finished her much-smaller Granola with Yoghurt (that's how it's spelled here). The early lunch has kept me full even until now, and it's almost 7. Yummy.

After wandering back and finding an adorable (and cheap) pair of earrings, Jean and I headed out to watch the Oxford-Cambridge boat race. This boat race seems to be the equivalent of the huge rowing regatta that happens on the Charles every year, except there is much more questionable class involved. In general, the plan is to show up early with either (depending on age) glass of wine or bottle of something-or-other and wait until the boats pass you by about two hours later. Some dress up for the occasion, but since it's outside, the weather is a bit chilly, and there's mud under bridges, I didn't see too many people dressed in anything but jeans.

Unfortunately, despite the tradition of this rowing race, Jean and I had a mishap. Apparently, the London subway (the Tube) chose this weekend to close one of the lines between us and where we were meeting up with a few friends. We didn't notice the closure, sadly, had to double-back a few stops, and ended up arriving much later than originally planned. And we missed it. The boats rowed by, and Jean and I weren't there. Sad day. We did, however, meet up with the same friends, and head for chips (fries) at a nearby place before going back to Jean's dorm to make it in time for dinner.

There are no pictures of today (much to my dismay) because I accidentally left my camera in the room, but, rest assured, there will be several photographs to come.