I went with everyone involved in the play to London, where I helped set up props, move chairs and anything else needed of me. It was good to get some heavy lifting done before vanishing in a city of 15 million people.
In my few hours to run around, I specifically chose to go back to Waterloo Station and walk down Stamford Street, and it was great how familiar it was. However, I did see our local pub from three years ago, the Stamford Arms, is no longer there. It's now the The Thirsty Bear. I also spent at least an hour in Tate Modern, but the rest of the time was spent getting lost in neighborhoods and riding the Tube.
First floor of Tate Modern
Kings College at Stamford Street where I first stayed in London
All Souls Church
And while I was walking down Oxford Street and attempting to dodge bulky Christmas shoppers while looking in stores, I had a thought come to me. If I was given £1,000 just to buy clothes in Oxford Street, I don't know what I'd do. I have a feeling I'd just browse like I always do and not spend anything without feeling guilty. I hate clothes shopping, especially for new clothes. That's because I feel like it's wasteful in part of my mind. There's plenty of awesome used clothes out there, and it's more fun to find something that looks great for cheap.
I also lost my key to the main house here at the Estate, so I rode back from London with Duncan and Chris. It's fun to ride in a lorey (cargo truck) with an impatient British guy at the wheel.
18/12 - Staying at the estate is great. It's silent most of the time, with the occasional airplane overhead, wind rustling trees in the distance and periodic outbreaks of gunfire which comes from hunting pheasant (which sort of sounds like a chicken itself). I spent probably three hours working today in preparation for the play in the barn at the top of the hill. It's tradition to place torches along the trail to the barn, and I made 15 torches from scratch. I also spread out numerous bails of straw (at the expense of my eyes and nose).
I met Charlotte's husband, Rupert today. We sat down at the kitchen table and had lunch together, and I'm starting to realize how much fun it is to sit down with people you like and just eat together. Rupert lives in Scotland, sometimes works in East London and is perpetually stressed. We had a good discussion about how Scotland is riding England's coat tails in terms of economic success (he is actually Scottish but has an English accent because he was educated in England). This is another great benefit of traveling this way; you get to meet local people and learn about regional dynamics.
But Charlotte showed me the path to her house through the woods. In daylight it's simple. But at night it's much different. I walked here through the dark so I can cook myself something (Charlotte is off to London). Just imagine walking through the woods with no light. The crunch of gravel underfoot, the unstable step and squelch through unforeseen muddy grass and your night vision coming in gradually. Eventually you can see things close by or in light colors, such as a stick from a birch tree. Though you have some sight, it doesn't change how menacing gnarled trees look around you or how foreboding the inky black path ahead looks. And every second you walk you expect to hear something else besides the whisper of the wind, like the chirp of an animal, snapping twigs, rustling leaves on the ground, or freakiest of all, a voice. (I should say the walk was just 10 minutes and I had a flashlight on my iPhone, but I didn't use it because I'm just too hardcore.)
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