Time for Home

My adventures in England are quickly coming to a close.  Here I am, with seven days left. There are so many things that I've not yet done. I've not seen nearly enough. I didn't even make it to Scotland, never mind all the way to Loch Ness! Prince Harry has been in New Zealand almost the entire time I've been here, so there's no way I could have met him. (Ignore the fact that I wouldn't have been able to anyway, because he's WAY out of my league...)

But despite all the things I haven't been able to fit in, I've managed to see and do so much. I've made amazing friends, whom I'll miss terribly when I have to leave. I've gotten to know my family really well, which has been a huge blessing.

I've explored Paris and London; witnessed a foreign election; been a part of the celebrations for the new royal baby's arrival. I've seen mountains and caves. I've been to the sea. I've partied with some amazing people, and attended some very interesting classes.

I've seen Plague towns, old roman towns, and the Home of the Beatles; walked the same streets as Jack the Ripper; I've seen some of the magic behind Harry Potter. I've stood where Anne Boleyn lost her head.

These things are all amazing, but it's time to go home. My little brother has tripled in size since I've been away, And I hardly recognize Robert. I miss cuddling with my dogs, and I even miss being picked on by Dad. I miss the quiet of rural Missouri. You can't see stars here, it's too bright. I miss DeAnne and Lacey and Jena. I'm excited for my week in D.C. with Josiah.

It's sad to be leaving here, but I have so much to look forward to when I get home. And it's just time.

Mary, Gerald, and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

This morning wasn't so bad. I woke up at 8:30, had breakfast with Gerald and Katia at 9, and went to bed for another couple hours, as I was still feeling tired. Then I woke up, and met the gang at the library at around 1:00. Things went as planned: Francine, Holly, and I studied while Gerald took a nap.

Dinner was at 6:00, and that's when everything started to go wrong. The chicken was dry, and the bananas were green. Too green. Gerald struggled with it for a while, finally got it peeled, and promptly dropped it in his custard. Twice. And then, while I was dying of laughter, I picked up my phone, dropped it, and barely missed my own custard. Dinner continued and when we finally left to put our trays away, Gerald managed to drop his butter-covered knife on the floor and managed to get butter all over his shirt.

Then we got our customary after dinner coffee, which I used to burn my knuckle. And I spilled it everywhere on the way to our usual seats in the bar. While drinking our coffee and discussing scholarly things (Ok, we were really talking about seeing Loch Ness monster and the likelihood of me meeting Prince Harry. Which one is more likely I'm sure I don't know) I was twirling my dog tag around my fingers and smacked myself in the forehead. After we finished our coffee, we left the bar and went to our own separate rooms. But on the way, I dropped the plum I had takes for a before bed snack. :(

My poor plum... 

So ended the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

The Epic London Adventure- Part 3

This will be the last of the 3 part adventure! You can find the first two here and here if you need to catch up. Onwards!

Saturday

Amy and I on the train to the Tower.

On Saturday we had another early start; our first stop of the day was the Tower of London. My friend Amy joined us for this one, so there were four of us. A free tour, given by a resident beefeater, is available at no extra charge. So we definitely took advantage of that! I learned so much. 

Mady, Me, the Yeoman Warder, Victoria, and Amy

William the Conqueror had the White Tower built after he had taken over the country in the 1070s. William’s successors – most notably Henry III and his son Edward I - extended and strengthened the fortress throughout the Medieval period. By 1350 the Tower had taken on several roles, including royal accommodation, the Royal Mint and even an exotic menagerie (with lions and polar bears.)

In 1483, The Princes in the Tower (12-year-old Prince Edward and his younger brother Richard) were imprisoned by their uncle Richard III, and were never seen again. In the 1930s, two child skeletons were found buried beneath a staircase during refurbishment, and were attributed to the missing (and probably murdered) princes.

During the Tudor period, the Tower entered the bloodiest period of its history. Its cells and torture chambers were rarely empty of political and religious prisoners in the aftermath of Henry VIII’s break from the Pope in Rome. The imprisoned included Henry’s second wife Anne Boleyn, and Lady Jane Grey.

In 1605, it played bleak host to Guy Fawkes after the disastrous plot to blow up Parliament. It was an important pawn in the Civil War. After the Restoration, it became a permanent home to the new Crown Jewels. Even during the two World Wars, the Tower played its part. It survived a direct hit during the Blitz, while the filled-in moat was used for growing fruit and vegetables. Several spies were also held and executed there: in 1941, German Josef Jakobs became the last person to be executed within the Tower’s walls.Contrary to it's terrifying myth, only 22 executions have ever taken place within the Tower of London. 

I visited the Bloody Tower, and saw the Crown Jewels (sadly, pictures were not allowed. But I can tell you that there were jewels in there the size of my fist.) I saw Traitor's Gate and the very spot where Anne Boleyn was beheaded. 

After the Tower, the four of us split up. Mady took the bus back home, and Amy met up with some other friends. Victoria and I got lunch, then headed to Buckingham Palace, because while we were at the Tower, it had been announced that the Royal baby had finally arrived!

Victoria and I queued for twenty minutes or so to see the official announcement for the Princess of Cambridge. 

The gates of Buckingham Palace. It made a nice picture while in the queue. 

The official announcement, on a gilded easel. 

Then, after we'd gotten pictures of the moment that will never be repeated (honestly, how many times is a girl gonna be in London when an heir to the throne is born??), we went and stood against the fence of the Queen Victoria memorial to people watch. We had plenty of time before we needed to be anywhere, so we just decided to chill. And chill we did. 

 Until a man tried to be cool and jump the fence around the memorial. And failed. Miserably. 

He landed funny, with one foot on the ground and one on the step leading up to the memorial. Then he broke an ankle. It was awful. Victoria and I saw the whole thing, and rushed over there to make sure he was okay. He was leaning on his friend, who was slightly laughing at him. Victoria asked if he was okay, and then she called the ambulance. Then while we were waiting, we got to talking. Luke (with the broken ankle) and Martin were training to be police and had come to London for the day. I asked him why he had thought jumping the fence was a good idea, and he replied (in a thick Scottish accent), "Honestly, I thought I was the fu*cking Batman." 

So then the paramedic got there and gave him laughing gas for the pain when she took his shoe off. Then things got even more funny. At one point, a random man came up and snapped a picture right in the poor guy's face. (So did we, but we called the ambulance for him.)

And there he is, poor guy...

Victoria ended up giving her number to Martin (the friend) and we got updates on him. He had to have emergency surgery. It was really ugly. It didn't break the skin, but you could clearly see that it was broken. 

When they took him away we went on our way. We had a ghost tour planned. Which was really good.  I didn't take pictures because it was dark by that time, but we talked about the Tower of London, the plague, and of course Jack the Ripper and the Whitechapel Murders. All in all, a good day.  

Sunday

On our last day in London (or half-day really) we decided to visit the most famous address in Britain. 221B Baker Street. Any guesses? Yup, the address of the famous (but fictional) Sherlock Holmes. Really it's just an apartment done up as if it were still the Victorian era. But it was very cute, and they had items that were featured in Sherlock stories. Apparently, not everyone understands that Sherlock was never a real person. We talked to one of the workers, who was an adorable woman dressed in a cute Victorian maid uniform, and she said she gets asked all the time whether Sherlock Holmes actually lived here. How disappointing for them when they find out. 

Me, deducing facts and solving the case...