The poor girl had to miss the Concert by Candlelight at St. Martin's-in-the-Field, because she felt pukey. The concert itself was superb consisting of Bach, Schubert, Handel and Vivaldi's Four Seasons. The musicians were very good, although I didn't quite agree with the soloist's interpretation of Autumn. In my opinion, he took far too many liberties with tempo and articulation. However, he did have a beautiful tone which was also helped with the amazing acoustics of the church. The church itself was beautiful in the way that old architecture always is. The concert would have been made perfect if poor Maggie could have been there. And then, to add insult to injury, her flat flooded. We are going out tonight (after homeworking and practicing up a storm) to rectify the unpleasantness of the last two days with Cadbury Egg Milkshakes. It's amazing the healing powers that chocolate possesses.
And on a happier note...HOLY FREAKING TARK! I just bought my rail ticket to go to Haworth next weekend. After spending way too much money, I have a room booked for Friday and Saturday night at a B and B called The Apothecary. HOW SWEET IS THAT?!?!
For those unaware of what or where Haworth is, or are unsure of why I'd want to go to a place deprived of the excitement and enjoyments of London, I will tell you. Haworth is located in West Yorkshire, also known as Bronte Country. And here comes the collective understanding sigh from you readers followed by eye rolls and mutterings of, "Why in God's name would she want to go out to the desolate moors of West Yorkshire in January where she's sure to get stranded and then promptly catch pneumonia and die a tragic (albeit romantic) death on the heath?" Well, let me tell you why. I need to get out of the city. I love London, but I want to breathe proper, unpolluted air, and I want to walk for miles. I want to see grass and trees instead of concrete and cigarette butts. I want to be Pocahontas and feel the colors of the wind through my hair! Right, wrong continent. Anyway, as for the cold, I'm Minnesotan. I'm a hearty, onion-layering, Northerner. And Mom, I will be wearing my wool socks. Father, I will have on my hat (and a hood) and mittens. So no pneumonia for me. I promise.
In addition to the promise of seductive hiking paths, the Bronte parsonage is open as a museum for visitors, as are the ruins on the moors that critics believe inspired Wuthering Heights. ACK! I am such a nerd! But I am so ecstatic. Needless to say, I've been re-reading Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights and The Secret Garden. SO EXCITED!!!!
Ok, Lauren, breathe! Phewwwwwwwwwwww. Okay, I'm good.
Yesterday my programme took us to Windsor Castle which was also fantastic! Clearly, I need to marry Will or Harry so I can live there. The castle is absolutely ginormous and lies on top of a hill, the highest point of the village. We were so lucky to be able to see the Queen's state rooms as she wasn't there, as well as the gigantic dollhouse given to Queen Somebody in the year of Sometime. While talking to a girl beside me, we agreed that the sight of this insanely intricate, fully-furnished and plumbing-efficient mini-house made us want to play with our American Girl Dolls. Before being set loose in the town of Windsor (where Shannon and I visited 3 chocolate shops), we visited The Chapel of St. George. Alas! we were not able to take pictures of this most amazing church. The ceilings, sculpted in the "fan" style as well as the stained glass and the general air of ancient history created a most delightful atmosphere. At one point, I walked over the bones of Henry the VIII and his favourite wife, Jane Seymour. As surreal as it was, I could not help thinking in my brain, "Hah, Henry, you wicked, wicked JERKFACE! How do you like it now? I'm a little woman standing on top of you and not being respectful or subservient in the least...well at least my thoughts aren't." Pretty unreal. Before departing we took a walk down to Eton and got to view the buildings of the famous Eton College. This boarding school for boys aged 13-18, is the Alma Mater of Princes Will and Harry (otherwise known as my future husbands), and was founded in the 1500's or something ridiculous like that. Not only is the architecture seeped in history and tradition, the boys' uniforms include Edwardian collared jackets with tails. Walking down the cobble-stoned streets, past Christopher Wren's old residence and then Shakespeare's, I most definitely felt the seductive allure of living in such an interesting and idyllic community.
Alrighty. I must tear myself away from blubbering on, unless of course you want to hear all about the homework and practicing I must do this afternoon and evening? Oh, you don't? Well, another time then.
Ta!
Lauren
P.S. Dad, you have an Inn in Eton!
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