Mid-march has arrived, and life has just flipped upside down. February was a quiet, content, happy little month. It was sunny and we had tons of days in the 60s. I wandered to every part of the city, bought things at every open air market, and got a feel for London life. March, then, spun me right around again. It’s now about 30 degrees every day, with wind and constant rain (thank goodness for the trench!), and not one quiet moment to myself (not necessarily a bad thing!). A flood of American visitors brought a total (and needed) change to my routine, and sightseeing and showing off the past few weeks has been manically fun. Before I get to all that, though….
Happy Happy Happy St. Patrick’s Day!! Hooray! One of the happiest holidays for our kind all year. It’s a bit sad not celebrating with any of the “typical” fanfare for us back home—corned beef, cabbage, soda bread (Nanny’s soda bread, in particular)—and without any Irish family around to understand the true magnitude of the day. But, it’s been an all-weekend celebration here, and it’s not over yet! I’m currently sitting here all dolled up in green wearing a giant foot-tall leprechaun hat as I wait to go to dinner.
Hmm but before I speed ahead to this moment, let me back up a bit, to just after my return from Paris and the exit of all Villanovans from the country. After that, it was time to sleep. To sleep sleep sleep. I haven’t been as tired as I was that week in a loooong time. I slept for 14 hours Sunday night, then for most of Monday, too. I don’t know if I caught up, but I sure made a valiant effort.
Tuesday brought fresh American guests to entertain, though, as Andria (a friend from RBC) was here staying with her aunt for her Spring Break. Eager to show her my London life, we went up to Camden Town for a bit of shopping (I needed a costume that I’ll elaborate on more later) and then she came out to beautiful Mile End for a night of fun.
Well, it was supposed to be a night of fun. We trotted down to the Hayfield for a bit around 9, planning to meet up with the British kids ‘round 11 and head over to a club in East London to meet up with Cassandra and Jordan and the West London crew. We never quite made it. As we left the Hayfield and headed for the club, we realized my wallet was gone. GONE. Not at home, not at the Hayfield, not in the cab. Just gone. Oyyyyy.
Unfortunately for Andria, I was beside myself and decided to just go to bed. The next day turned up no results, so Mom and I went ahead and cancelled every credit/debit card in the wallet (which was, stupidly, all of them). I had no cash on me, so Andria left me a generous 7 pounds to tide me over until…. Well, nobody knew, really.
I stopped back in the Hayfield one more time the next night to check, and sure enough, after cancelling every card, one worker had found my wallet and hung onto it so it didn’t get stolen (ironic). I thanked them profusely, but in the end, it was pretty much the same consequences as actually having lost the wallet as I still sit here waiting for my new debit cards from America to arrive. Except for one working Visa card that banks will use to give me cash, it’s been a rough few days!
But, moving on to brighter things! Sinead arrived on Thursday night for a weekend of St. Patrick’s Day fun. I had told her of a costume party at a flat on campus, and she was so into it! I was so happy. The party was called “Glow” and its theme was “Neon Nu-Rave,” so think early 90s ravers wearing fluorescent colored anything. Sinead and I waited until she arrived Thursday night to figure out costumes, so I greeted her with a couple of bottles of Bulmers and some neon paints I picked up at PoundWorld (dollar-store). We ripped up some Hanes t-shirts and created these:
“Costume? My Hair IS My Costume”
(It’s a big thing for British to make fun of “Gingers” (Redheads) throwing around jokes like…. “What happens if a ginger-kid bites you? You get ginger-vitis!” So we owned it for the night)
Coupled with neon tights, neon jewelry, neon make-up, and some shades, we were ready to roll. That drink in my hand is actually just apple juice, I swear. All in all, a great costume party.
Moving on, then…
Saturday was the start of the St. Pat’s celebration in town, kicked off by the final game of the Six Nations Rugby Championship, a match between England and Ireland. We went to O’Neills, a four story, packed-to-the-brim Irish pub in central London, to watch. Sinead’s aunts Paula (now a Londoner) and Julie (a Dubliner that I stayed with during our Spring Break trip there last year) came to meet us, along with Matt, Sinead’s boyfriend. We stayed for about five hours in the middle of the afternoon and had a blast! Ireland got blown away, unfortunately, but Cloughley relatives are fun enough that you don’t really care one way or another.
After some fish n’ chips and a couple of pubs, we hit the hay early so we could get up for the parade on Sunday. Unfortunately, we woke up Sunday around 11 to an absolutel monsoon. The weather didn’t clear up for the entire day, and the parade and festivities were a bit of a washout. There was still a lot of green roaming around the city (and in and out of pubs), but I suspect the day was a lot tamer than it usually is. Tonight the festivities conclude at, where else, the Hayfield, as we do a bit of a pub crawl around Mile End and end up at the old standby, where I will hopefully remember to bring home my wallet.
Visitors are done for the moment and life might settle back down to a normal pace (thank God!) for a few weeks. It feels good to get back into the rhythm of regular London life and to start hanging out with our British friends again (not that our American friends weren’t just as fun!). As for now, I’m off to our favorite dive restaurant down the street for some chicken tikka (I told you there was no corned beef happening) and to judge how many looks I get from this giant hat (some things/people don’t change, even 1,000 miles away from Kelly’s). Happy St. Pat’s!
Happy Happy Happy St. Patrick’s Day!! Hooray! One of the happiest holidays for our kind all year. It’s a bit sad not celebrating with any of the “typical” fanfare for us back home—corned beef, cabbage, soda bread (Nanny’s soda bread, in particular)—and without any Irish family around to understand the true magnitude of the day. But, it’s been an all-weekend celebration here, and it’s not over yet! I’m currently sitting here all dolled up in green wearing a giant foot-tall leprechaun hat as I wait to go to dinner.
Hmm but before I speed ahead to this moment, let me back up a bit, to just after my return from Paris and the exit of all Villanovans from the country. After that, it was time to sleep. To sleep sleep sleep. I haven’t been as tired as I was that week in a loooong time. I slept for 14 hours Sunday night, then for most of Monday, too. I don’t know if I caught up, but I sure made a valiant effort.
Tuesday brought fresh American guests to entertain, though, as Andria (a friend from RBC) was here staying with her aunt for her Spring Break. Eager to show her my London life, we went up to Camden Town for a bit of shopping (I needed a costume that I’ll elaborate on more later) and then she came out to beautiful Mile End for a night of fun.
Well, it was supposed to be a night of fun. We trotted down to the Hayfield for a bit around 9, planning to meet up with the British kids ‘round 11 and head over to a club in East London to meet up with Cassandra and Jordan and the West London crew. We never quite made it. As we left the Hayfield and headed for the club, we realized my wallet was gone. GONE. Not at home, not at the Hayfield, not in the cab. Just gone. Oyyyyy.
Unfortunately for Andria, I was beside myself and decided to just go to bed. The next day turned up no results, so Mom and I went ahead and cancelled every credit/debit card in the wallet (which was, stupidly, all of them). I had no cash on me, so Andria left me a generous 7 pounds to tide me over until…. Well, nobody knew, really.
I stopped back in the Hayfield one more time the next night to check, and sure enough, after cancelling every card, one worker had found my wallet and hung onto it so it didn’t get stolen (ironic). I thanked them profusely, but in the end, it was pretty much the same consequences as actually having lost the wallet as I still sit here waiting for my new debit cards from America to arrive. Except for one working Visa card that banks will use to give me cash, it’s been a rough few days!
But, moving on to brighter things! Sinead arrived on Thursday night for a weekend of St. Patrick’s Day fun. I had told her of a costume party at a flat on campus, and she was so into it! I was so happy. The party was called “Glow” and its theme was “Neon Nu-Rave,” so think early 90s ravers wearing fluorescent colored anything. Sinead and I waited until she arrived Thursday night to figure out costumes, so I greeted her with a couple of bottles of Bulmers and some neon paints I picked up at PoundWorld (dollar-store). We ripped up some Hanes t-shirts and created these:
“Costume? My Hair IS My Costume”
(It’s a big thing for British to make fun of “Gingers” (Redheads) throwing around jokes like…. “What happens if a ginger-kid bites you? You get ginger-vitis!” So we owned it for the night)
Coupled with neon tights, neon jewelry, neon make-up, and some shades, we were ready to roll. That drink in my hand is actually just apple juice, I swear. All in all, a great costume party.
Moving on, then…
Saturday was the start of the St. Pat’s celebration in town, kicked off by the final game of the Six Nations Rugby Championship, a match between England and Ireland. We went to O’Neills, a four story, packed-to-the-brim Irish pub in central London, to watch. Sinead’s aunts Paula (now a Londoner) and Julie (a Dubliner that I stayed with during our Spring Break trip there last year) came to meet us, along with Matt, Sinead’s boyfriend. We stayed for about five hours in the middle of the afternoon and had a blast! Ireland got blown away, unfortunately, but Cloughley relatives are fun enough that you don’t really care one way or another.
After some fish n’ chips and a couple of pubs, we hit the hay early so we could get up for the parade on Sunday. Unfortunately, we woke up Sunday around 11 to an absolutel monsoon. The weather didn’t clear up for the entire day, and the parade and festivities were a bit of a washout. There was still a lot of green roaming around the city (and in and out of pubs), but I suspect the day was a lot tamer than it usually is. Tonight the festivities conclude at, where else, the Hayfield, as we do a bit of a pub crawl around Mile End and end up at the old standby, where I will hopefully remember to bring home my wallet.
Visitors are done for the moment and life might settle back down to a normal pace (thank God!) for a few weeks. It feels good to get back into the rhythm of regular London life and to start hanging out with our British friends again (not that our American friends weren’t just as fun!). As for now, I’m off to our favorite dive restaurant down the street for some chicken tikka (I told you there was no corned beef happening) and to judge how many looks I get from this giant hat (some things/people don’t change, even 1,000 miles away from Kelly’s). Happy St. Pat’s!
P.S. Thanks for St. Patrick's Day cards!! Getting mail is the best! :)
