What am I, 12?!?

So, I have tonsillitis. Again. That's twice in 10 months, and easily the 6th time in my life. So help me, if I wasn't 4,000 miles away from my mommy and daddy I'd have demanded that my doctor (who is quite possibly younger than me...ouch) take them out. You here me tonsils?!

On the upside, I did finally figure out how the whole NHS thing works here, and I have to say - not bad at all. Part of it could just be that I found a really good doctor's office, so I'll reserve judgement on the system as a whole for a while longer. But I really was impressed. The only real hassle was trying to get through this morning. They don't answer the phone until 9am, and apparently everybody on God's green earth calls the office then. But I DID get through, and I DID get an appointment for today. I showed up 5 minutes early, waited less than 10 to see the doctor, and it was actually the doctor that greated me in the waiting room so there was no 20 minute intermission between getting my temperature taken and actually seeing the doctor. And the prescription cover is excellent I paid about what my co-pay would have been in the US. (I was a little worried about that)

The bummer of course is that I have an immovable deadline looming at work and I'm well and truly sick. Damn.

Too excited to focus

Ok, so maybe I have had a few bouts of homesickness. Well disguised though (and well deserved I suppose...I am more than 4,000 miles from home) Mostly it's little frustrations about not understanding things that everyone around me takes for granted, or the fact that I don't have a well established circle of friends here.
This all comes to mind because my friend Jonathan (my first official visitor) will be arriving in less than 12 hours, and for some reason that still seems like ages. Yes, he is my best friend, and yes, I haven't seen him since Christmas, but I think it's a little more than that - I've got a little slice of home coming and I can't wait.

That said, judging London against Chicago on all things that don't include people and opening hours of everything from grocery stores to night clubs to public transit - London beats the HECK out of Chicago in my book. There are the obvious reasons, including theatre and history, but I think it's also got a lot to do with the fact that London is such an international city - not that Chicago isn't, but it's on a whole different level. English is definitely the common denominator language in public places, but whether you are sitting at a cafe, walking through the park or riding the bus there is almost always someone rattling along in another language within earshot. Oh, and get this, even downtown, in the heart of the City, you can actually see the stars! And I'm not talking one or two bright ones (that may or may not actually be planets or deceptively slow moving aircraft) I mean you can actually see the stars! Constellations and all! Now it's nothing like the ink black sky littered with little diamonds that you get so often in places like Iowa for instance, but it is still a real comfort to me.

I took my first walk through Kensington Gardens on Sunday, and it was excellent. The little fountains and monuments that are scattered among the trees and ponds and gentle hills, but some how the vibe was just better than Lincoln Park. I don't know if it was the increased diversity (not just 20 & 30 something couples and dog walkers) or the fact that so many people seemed to be actually looking at everything, and absorbing it. I'm trying to describe something that probably doesn't make a lot of sense - and I'm not trying to put Chicago down or anything. It just seemed to me that most of the people around me were actually appreciating the park. Of course, they were probably all tourists, which would explain it.

I took loads of pictures. Here's one of the famed Peter Pan statue (some of you may recall that Peter Pan told Wendy that he lived in Kensington Gardens after he ran away from home, before finding Neverland)

And these are of the Italian fountain at the North end of the Park.


I'll be sure to check out Princess Diana's Memorial Fountain next time. There was an article in the paper about how the city has spent more than 200,000 GBP to maintain it in the last year (of course the city says that that averages out to less than 28p per visitor...and says it's worth it)

Ok, I think I'll keep myself busy with some last minute house work in honor of Jonathan's visit...

Food etc.

Look at me, 2 posts in 1 week!

I just got back from the Notting Hill Farmer's Market (about a 10 minute walk from my flat!) And I'd like to share some of the sights. Of course, the smells sometimes the most interesting part, but they haven't figured out how to transmit those over the internet (yet) Come to think of it we are probably lucky about that. SPAM would be a whole different demon then. But I digress. This is a picture of the whole market - not very big.




Part of me always new that sprouts grew on stalks...but that doesn't mean I ever really gave up the image of millions of little sprouts growing in rows like miniature cabbages. A minute later there was an adorable little girl investigating them (the stalks were easily 6 inches taller than her) I didn't snap a photo of that though, because her mother didn't look like the sort that would approve.


These two pictures were taken at the Borough Market a few weeks ago...apparently it is open everyday, but it is heaving on Saturdays. And why shouldn't it be? It's hard ot find a place where you can by your fowl with the feathers still attached... and one day I must try Haggis. Ok, and my final weird food pic is a bowl of bubble & squeak that I made the mistake of ordering last night for no reason other than I've never had it. After passing my own judgement on it (hmmm, uhm, yuck), both the Aussie I was dining with and the waiter nodded in agreement. Apparently it's tradtionally all the left overs from Sunday roast dinners (lots of potato and cabbage and random vegetables) thrown in a pan and cooked down until it's browned all over. And I'm told that the name comes from the sounds it supposedly makes when you cook it...but I reckon it stuck because nothing in it is recognisable enough to warrant being part of the name.

I suck

I don't email people back, and I never post to my blog, and I've lived in my flat for more than a month without so much as emailing a picture of the living room to my own mother (who is celebrating a birthday today BTW. Happy Birthday Mom!)

Apparently it wasn't just my lack of internet that kept me incommunicado all that time. I'm just miserable at keeping in touch. And for some reason I get the feeling that that's not going to change any time soon. Oh well. Know your demons, that's what I always say.

But I do have some killer photos, including this one, which is the view out my living room window at about 6am last week. As is usually the case with a sunrise, the camera really can't capture it. I had only been out of bed for about 15 seconds (not joking) when I was fumbling around for my camera. The sky was a burning red/pink, so much so that the image distorted in the picture and brought out some unnatural blues and purples in the rest of the frame. Even still, it's a pretty great picture. That's St. Mary Abbott's Church in the background, and the weird light/tower to the right of it is an old department store that's being renovated into a mall (which will include London's first Whole Foods)

At this, at long last, is my flat. There is still a great deal of STUFF that doesn't have a home yet...the apartment was rented to me furnished, but I've had to procure a desk and additional shelving. Excuses, excuses. The fact is that even if I really wanted my place to look neat and tidy and orderly and well designed etc. It never would. There is just something about me and my things (or rather the sort of things I keep around me) that will always look a little disorganized and funky. But I suppose there are worse things. I'm not going to bore you with pictures of every room (though for those of you with the unexplainable need to see my hallway, kitchen and lack of a door knob, they'll all be on my photoset soon. www.flickr.com/photos/abigayle57/ )

The one other thing I've got to share though is the bathroom. Most specifically, the shower. For those who have spent time in Europe, this won't shock you, but I've got say, I've been here two months and I am still not used to it. Notice anything different about this bathroom? The shower in particular. No, I'm not talking about the weird water pressure gadget, there is something missing from this picture. Yeah, no shower curtain, just a puny little barrier to make sure that the toilet paper roll doesn't get wet. Virtually none of the flats I looked at had them...I mean why would they? Who could possible want to contain the water to the area with a drain. And why keep the steam and warmth in the little area where you're naked and soaking wet when you can share it with the whole room and drastically decrease the effect? And the Brits love their cold drafts. I'm not bitter. How about a close-up for emphasis.
It's worth noting too, that I had to open my front door and step into the stairwell to get that first shot of my bathroom...it's a pretty narrow hallway.

So that's it, the long awaited post about my flat. Hope you liked it. Tune in again soon for pics of yours truly playing amature tour guide to a heard of college students from my hometown!