RANDOMOSITIES

So close, but we didn't hit 3k miles . . . only around 2900.

The tube is really hot and frequently crowded. And just a bit smelly. C'mon people, ever hear of soap?

Looking at a Hogarth in a book is nothing like seeing the real deal up close and personal.

How can so much history be packed into so tiny a place?

London on a Saturday night reminds me a lot of York on a Saturday night.

Is getting drunk and stumbling around on the street a new trend or what?

TIMELINE

10:00 AM After a lovely full English breakfast, we packed up and headed for Heathrow to return the car.

11-12:30 Figure out how to use the tube and lug our baggage across London.

1:00 Dropped off our bags and headed out for an adventure. First stop: the John Soanes Museum.

4:00 Next stop: the British Museum.

5:30 Yes, we really did the British Museum in an hour an a half. Walked down to Bow Street, of Bow Street Runner fame.

6:00 Strolled past Drury Lane, as in the theater district. On a whim, purchased tickets for a show.

6-7:30 Ate dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant.

7:30-10 PM See Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

10-11:00 PM Ride the freak train, I mean the tube, back to our lodgings.

THOUGHTS

We returned our rental car today without any mishaps -- unlike the poor buddy in front of us who accidentally put unleaded fuel instead of diesel into his car. That's a 500 pound charge. Ouch.

It was oddly comforting to be on a shuttle with a bunch of Americans. I didn't have to listen quite so hard to what was being said. Don't get me wrong. I love a British accent as much as the next hot-blooded American girl. It just takes a bit of concentration sometimes to understand, and I didn't realize how much until I didn't have to concentrate. Savvy?

A few highlights of today were seeing the for-real-not-even-kidding-you paintings of Hogarth's The Rake's Progress at the John Soanes Museum, and then laying eyes on the magistrate's court at Bow Street. Not your usual tourist attractions, but who wants to do usual?

While eating dinner, I looked out the window and lo and behold. What did I see? A plaque on the wall directly across the street. Apparently that's the building where Thomas de Quincy wrote Confessions of an English Opium Eater. Yep. Right there. Bam! History in my face.

As you may have noticed in my timeline, Mark and I went to the theater tonight, and it was a musical. I know. I hear you. "But you HATE musicals! You said you'd rather poke big holes in your eardrums with a fork." Yes, I admit I have said that, and it still holds true, but this was at the Theater Royal Drury Lane. Sheesh! You don't get more authentic theater than that. The sets were freaking amazing with a side of awesome sauce, which made up for all the singing. Plus, there was a fair amount of dialogue, so don't judge me.

Can we pause here a moment and talk about modesty? As if women running around in tights isn't bad enough, do you know what they have on the streets of London? Urinals. Like, out in the open, with no doors. Guys just whipping out their . . . wait a minute, there might be children present. Exactly! THERE MIGHT BE CHILDREN PRESENT! What the heck? Who's idea was the whole let's-let-men-pee-in-plain-sight movement? It's wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Want to know how I really feel?