Dearest friends,
Our day of departure draws near: in three days' time, my sister and I will be onboard an aircraft en route for California. We must make the most of our last two real days here.
This morning began with a "cream tea" as they call it here: a cup of British Breakfast tea and a scone with clotted cream and jam, from a delightful little tea shop called High Tea of Highgate. The shop was fancifully decorated, the china a lovely floral pink. It is so very good to be in a country so attuned to all my tea needs.
From tea, my sister and I proceeded to Tottenham Court Road Underground station, to arrive at the British Museum, for which we did not have nearly time enough on our first stay in London. We passed the morning traveling back in time to ancient Mesopotamia (which only made me think of this song) by way of the museum's extensive collection of artifacts. When we grew famished, we paused our visit for a sushi lunch several blocks away. On our way back, we decided to rest momentarily in the Russell Square Gardens, there to soak up some sun and watch male pigeons unsuccessfully attempt to woo female pigeons. It was again a lovely day, perhaps on the side even of too hot, but we managed, being hardened Southern California ladies and all.
Back at the British Museum, we viewed massive ancient Egyptian sculptures, posed for some rather silly photographs, admired the handiwork of the Assyrian reliefs, and giggled at unintentionally humorous artwork. We saw close up the Rosetta Stone, and learned why Egyptians wrote the word "cat" the way they did. And, of course, we saw mummies. Lots of mummies. Perhaps, if you ask Diana, too many mummies. She does not like to be reminded of death as much as we have been this trip, what with the sleeping next to graveyards and seeing preserved corpses long-buried in bogs. I, however, was excited to see the artifacts I had long heard tell of--it touched that childlike part of me long laid dormant, the part of me that wanted so badly to be an Egyptologist.
Before leaving our dorms this morning, we had searched for frozen yogurt venues on Google maps, having been desperately craving then stuff. As the museum closed, we ventured over toward the whimsically-named Goodge Street to find Yog. And find it we did. Like a vastly improved version of Pinkberry (which you may or may not know, I despise), Yog satisfied my two-and-a-half-week-long
desire for my favourite snack. In reverse order, we then proceeded to a Japanese restaurant across the street, where we dined on flavourful gyoza and delicious noodles.
Back at the Uni of Westminster dorms, I spent the evening in my sister's room, as she uploaded our photographs to facebook, where you can find them if you are friends with one of us, and I updated this blog. It is nearing bedtime now. Must be up bright and early to go to the station stop that shares our surname. After that, lunch with a British friend from the jungle. And then? Who knows.
Yours,
A
FACES
Someone refused his offer.
OTHER BODY PARTS
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