A weekend of unfortunate events.

Let me start out by saying that this was looking to be a sad weekend anyway, since I actually had schoolwork to do, or at least start. But there were a few things I had planned anyway.

Friday was actually a pretty good day, what with it being a day off and all. I could do my work later; I had all weekend. So Caitlin, Kelly and I went to a place called Tea House in Covent Garden, which we eventually found after walking the entire length of the street we were on, and back. It was very clearly labeled, you see. We bought tea, and it was pretty cheap and fantastic, though for whatever reason I was not expecting it to be a tea store, but a tea parlor rather, a place where you could sit down and order a cuppa or something. Whatever, it was still fun. Then we went to Hummus Bros for what I'll just call linner, an event which was recounted in an earlier post. Go read it, you lazy bum.

Saturday was when the trouble began. I was going to go on a walk around Greenwich with Bill, our trusty director, and a bunch of other ICLC students. But then Nicki put me on a guilt trip, saying it's okay that I was backing out of our plans to go to Keats' house, it was fine, I should do what I wanted to do. So of course I was like, it's fine, I'll go to Keats' house with you Nicki. That's just the kind of person I am.

We get up around 11, get ready, and set out for Belsize Park, which took us about 30-45 minutes to get to via the tube. We emerged in an adorable, suburban area of London, the sun was shining, and we were happy and off to see one of our favorite poets' houses, where he penned "Ode to a Nightingale" under a plum tree in the front yard.

We make our way down Keats Grove, the street on which his house is located, we can see it over the fence.

"The Keats House Museum will be closed for major renovations until August 2008."

Um, excuse me?

I was not pleased.

We went all that way, only to find out the stupid place is CLOSED. I couldn't really believe it; I had wasted a morning, doing something completely useless when I could have gone to Greenwich and the prime meridian.

On the way home, we saw something on the sidewalk that Nicki said "perfectly embodied her emotions":

It's a sad ghost, or possibly a foot.

Anyway, that was Saturday. Sunday was even better. I got up early, thinking, I'll get to the ICLC right when it opens. Then I'll have a quiet place to read and do a little research for Irish Lit before I have to meet with my group at 4.

It was a good plan. I got to the tube station around 11:09, 9 minutes after the center officially opened, and stopped to get some coffee at a cute little cafe on the way to the school. And to my delight, a coffee came with a free croissant. So I had breakfast, all for 1.20 (in pounds).

I'm happy. I get to the school, and see one of the girls who lives next door to me with her visiting boyfriend. I smiled and waved, and was met with this lovely greeting:

"We can't get into the London Center. I don't have the key and the other person who's supposed to be here isn't."

So what do I do? Well, damned if I'm going home now. I came here for a reason: my flat is a terrible place to do any sort of work. So I decide to wait. I'm soon joined by my friend Andy, who is also just as happy to sit on the cold metal patio chairs while we wait for some kind of news. I was so glad all I wore was my sweatshirt over a tank top.

After waiting for a little over an hour, Bill finally showed up on his bicycle. He had to bike all the way from Zone 3 just to let us all in. Kudos to the working girls for creating this debacle. Whatever, at least I eventually got the feeling back in my toes and fingers.