Who Knew the Entertainment Would Be on the Train

Saturday was a great day. After A got packed and ready for her early train on Sunday, we went to Camden to have some dinner at the market and to see a photography display at Proud Gallery. Camden is full of various ethnic food stalls and I think Saturday A and I did not choose wisely! We’ve had great food there but it is possible to have some dreadful food as well.  The line at this creperie was really long.  I shouldn't have let impatience.get the best of me.

On to the O2 Arena for the Green Day concert and A absolutely loved it. Every time the band talked in between songs, all I could think was wow, they sound so American! On the journey home we boarded the last train of the evening and it was packed. I couldn’t help but notice this young guy, looked to be about 18 sitting about three rows away but facing us. I noticed him because he was so thin that he was nothing but teeth and cheekbones and his skin was a strange color. He was very drunk and very soon I noticed that he was beginning to slowly heave. Yes, in a packed train with no bathroom he began to throw up all over the place. I was so afraid that the smell would hit us and set off a chain reaction. His friend got some napkins from somewhere and then promptly left him alone on the train. Some poor girl who didn’t even know the guy took care of him. By the time he got off of the train, his skin was green and there was a void of people in the middle of the car where he had been sitting.

The funniest part of the evening was everyone’s reaction around the guy. While I felt like I needed to make it a lesson telling A don’t ever do such a thing, the rest laughed at the poor guy right to his face and made comments to him like, “did you eat chicken because I smell chicken”.  A woman near us was musing about all the places she had puked in the city, but she had the decency never to do it on a commuter train!  By the end of it A and I couldn’t stop laughing. There was a young Frenchman on the train and one of the older guys standing near said to him, “I bet in your country you know your limits. See what happens here when the young ones drink here. They can’t handle their liquor.”

What’s a Jodphur?

School is out this week and A got invited to go to Cornwall with her friend to attend a riding camp. Although I don’t like horseback riding, I’m pretty jealous that she will be spending the week riding a horse along the beach. The riding style is English obviously so I asked her friend’s mother what she needed for the camp. She suggested jodphurs, riding boots, and some gloves. There’s a store on the high street that I’ve been in a few times because they sell luggage. Little did I know that upstairs there’s a whole new world, and that world smells strongly of leather. She came out of the dressing room in her jodphurs, feeling pretty self conscious about their form-fitting style. There was a saddle on a stool there so one can try out the fit of the pants. The woman encouraged her to have a seat. I asked her if I could take her picture but she wasn’t amused.

She had to come back to my office because I had one last call before I headed home for the weekend. The call was with a dear friend of ours so after business was over, A said hello. When she handed the phone back to me my friend said, “She sounds so British and so mature!” I don’t hear the British part but it must be more obvious to our American friends.

Sunday she and J took the six hour train journey southwest. After the first evening of riding we got a text message from her that said, “My bum hurts”. Well, even though I don’t hear her sounding British, she is texting British.

It's the Time of Year for a Dramatic Sky

I Almost Start an International Incident

About a month ago A asked me if I could recommend an autobiography for her to read for school. I should have emailed one of my many librarian friends, but I felt like I needed to give her direction quickly because she was throwing out titles by popular celebrities. On a side note, I know this is also a common occurrence in the U.S. but it seems to be a requirement here. If you are on stage or screen you have a book deal. Every celebrity, no matter how minor, has published an autobiography. Even people who have been on reality television have books out! I haven’t looked into it but I suppose that none of them are written by the celebrity, so how they get classified as autobiographies I will never know. Anyway, to avoid her thinking that she could read one of those, I suggested Homer Hickam’s Rocket Boys. I haven’t read it myself but since he lives in Huntsville, I knew a lot about it. She was a bit annoyed with me because the book was longer than her friends’ selections.


So fast forward to my walking tour of East London where the tour guide spoke with contempt about Wernher von Braun and his V2 that destroyed a lot of East London. I was thinking to myself, having lived in Huntsville, Alabama where the von Braun Center is the biggest venue in town, obviously we have a different image of von Braun, who was instrumental in the U.S. rocket program.

A asked me to look over her notes. She had to deliver a speech on Rocket Boys. As I read her notes which described how Homer Hickam idolized von Braun I started getting nervous. If her teacher is clear on the facts of WWII, she may get angry at A’s speech. I told A that she needed to do some additional research and as I started to explain to her that von Braun had a controversial past, she started getting very nervous afraid she was going to get in trouble at school. We found some additional information, which actually was from a book my history professors at UAH had written, that explained von Braun’s past. At least now she was prepared. She hasn’t said anymore about it, so it must have gone well.

P.S. A had in her possession recently one of the books that a friend of hers selected as her autobiography.  It was Go Ask Alice by Anonymous.  I told A that it is rumoured that the book is not an actual diary but instead written as a message book about drug abuse.  I almost laughed since I remember reading that when I was about 13 and it scaring me.  It's still around scaring teenagers!

Brick Lane on a Sunday

With the market on Sunday, Brick Lane was packed and it was excellent people watching.  If only I could have disguised my camera, I could have taken tons of pics of the fashion and the faces.

One of the Posh Streets in East London

This is one of the only streets intact after World War II and it was a refuge for the French Huguenots escaping persecution.

Such Polite Graffiti

We walked through this park in East London and the writing on the gatepost made me laugh.