ou est la fete?

Uhhhhhh...I feel like a mass of blubber, blubbing around. In my tiny room. Trying to catch up on Project Runway on YouTube. Even though someone's stupid video title gave away the end. Stupid Seth Aaron. He's like Jeffrey, but three times less talented. And oh my gah, Maya just left the show. AND OH MY GAH, Anthony's back! And they're designing for Heidi again - Heidi, c'mon, get out of the workroom and grab some other celebs on your show to design for!

The blubbery feelings are not my fault. I blame food and bad luck. The reason I blame food is because I have been eating a lot of it. Saturday, Jenny, Mollie and I met up with Mollie's friend Erin from Wyoming at the London Bridge Tube station to visit Borough Market. It's best described as the sheer breadth and absurdity of Harrod's but for food. There were at least 70 stalls run by different foodies, purveying the best chilli salsa or the best expensive cheese that you've never heard of or the best mushroom pate - the best smells, sights (both of the edibles and of the guys in charge), best tastes. So many samples!

Huge soup vats.

Les fleurs.

Best item there: owl-shaped shortbread biscuits.

Giant, expensive, rare cheese wheel anyone?

Puddings galore.

Baaaaklaaavaaaaa *drool*

I ate a lot of crazy things - fruit pates, baklava, diabetic-friendly granola, sweet potato spread, and the oddest, most expensive sample, an extremely strong olive oil made with black truffles. Greek lamb kofta sandwich for lunch rounded off my journey through food land and, with the help of an afternoon in bed dreaming about eating chocolate in Brussels, began my blubbery, whale feelings of laziness.

The reason I blame bad luck is because all my wonderful St. George's plans (well, nearly all) were mostly for naught. The day began very, very early; at 7:30am, Lizzie, Dan, Jenny and I set off from the hostel to stand in line at the box office for Jerusalem tickets (Jerusalem takes place on St. George's day - as you can see, very specific planning going on here). Well, when we get there - two hours before the box office opens, a whole hour earlier than Jenny and I stood in line for Waiting for Godot! - and there are already over 30 people there, the first ten of which have been camping out since 7pm the night before. That's before even that night's show began! Ridick. So, of course, we concede the unfortunate two hours of waiting and walk back home. Instead, I book tickets to see a different show, Stuff, written for a fringe, new plays festival. It was both interesting and difficult in plot and in what it tried to accomplish, but enjoyable as one new playwright appreciating the hard work of another. My second plan was to see the St. George's Day pageant, but due to the complicated process of buying tickets online and tube changes, Jenny and I missed the affair by twenty minutes :( Instead, we ate lunch in front of the beautiful St. Paul's Cathedral, which we are visiting Tuesday.

The Cathedral + the tree blocking the Cathedral.

I got to rub Jenny in front of St. Paul's - with sunscreen, that is. Sweet bird in the background!

I want to grow up and be that woman's hair.

My final plan was to head out to Hampstead Heath and visit the poet John Keats' house.

It has a lot of interesting artifacts and in celebration of Shakespeare's birthday, a poetry reading based on the Seven Ages of Man speech from As You Like It. Unfortunately, I had to make the trip on my own and got terribly lost for an hour and a half, but I bought some chocolate to make myself feel better and visited a boutique where I held an over 300 GBP Vivenne Westwood dress (chocolate and window shopping are my drugs of choice apparently). Finally, I made it to Keats' house and as a token, got a snap shot of Keats death mask, totally weird and fantastic.

Today, I had lunch with Will and his mother, who is to take care of Willy's illness. I hope that he feels better soon because I am bored and blubbery without him. Send him love and me entertaining comments. Bon journee!