So I’m going to do things out of chronological order here. This offends the Historian in me, but will greatly greatly appease the inner Blogger instead.
I was quite lucky, and felt quite loved, that I had so many visitors this year. I already told y’all about Cambridge with Connie-wonnie, but I was also fortunate enough to be visited by Greer, Lilly, and my Mother-doots and Father-doots. In between all these lovely guests I had lots of homework, went to Paris with Greer, went to Ireland with Clara, Ariana, and Sergio, and went on my last UBES trip, but I will come to those later. And I promise that “later” means within the next week or two, not the usual enormous span (Greer: Wing? Wingspan? Span!) that I normally leave for these missives.
I must say, I am not popular enough that my first two lovely ladies came to see me alone; instead, I was a feature (dare I say highlight?) of their tours to see other friends and family members who are living in England. Greer came to see her sister, family friends, and friends in London, but her first stop was to see little ol’ me. I realised on the day she was to arrive that I had never given her instructions on how to get to my flat from the train station, but using her unending gumption and remembrance of my street’s fantastic name (Frogmore, can I tell you), she found me. I quickly ran away to class, but then spent the rest of her time here showing her the sights and sounds Brizzle and ting. PS I stole this picture from the beauty in it.
Her second day with me directed us towards Bath, a place that I had yet to visit until then. It was pretty cold and grey, but hey that’s what England is all about right? We took in all the highlights of the city that Ariana describes as “all the pretty parts of Bristol smooshed into a small town”: The Roman Baths, the Pump House, the Circus, and a cream tea on the bridge. Upon our return to Bristol we chilled out for a bit and caught up in the way that only Greer and I can do when we’ve been apart for what is inevitably too long of a stretch, and then went out for drinks with everybody to the Woods. The next morning she ran off to London to see friends, and I followed her a few days later to head to Paris together.
Not only did I have one gorgeous, bubbly, effervescent Canadian come visit, but yes boys and girls, I had TWO. In early March Lilly also hopped, skipped, and jumped across the pond to my loving arms and single bed. She too meandered from London to Bristol to Ireland to Gravesend, so I only got her for a few days. I was a pretty poor host for the dear girl cause I had a paper due the following week when my parents would also be Isle-side, but luckily she is the pluckiest gal I know, so I didn’t feel too bad about sending her off to explore Bristol and Bath all on her lonesome. I again foisted the Crompto-Bristol package upon her (the Bridge, Ashton Court, the Apple, Thekla), and hopefully it amused. As I told her when we went to Glastonbury for the afternoon, “England is really nice if you like boring things.” Nighttime, I will grant, England is a blast. But come day-time tourism you gotta really love old stones and carpets. Luckily I do, and I think Lilly was sufficiently charmed, so the balance sheet remained in the black. (And thank you to Carmel for unwittingly submitting that photograph to my blog.)
On the Wednesday that she was here, Lilly, Kevin, and I took the bus down to Glastonbury, namely to see the Abbey (namely so I could steal Lilly's excellent photos). I, of course, was utterly smitten. The day could not have been nicer. The grounds were quite wonderful, and it was a boon to see the “graves” of “Arthur” and “Guinevere”. The sacked Abbey also had the transom where Thomas a Becket (yeees, I know the “a” is incorrect) last preached. We then went to the Abbey tea rooms to have yet another cream tea (really, they are delicious, I will include them with the other items I shall import and introduce to Cabanada). To work off the cream and scones, we then hiked up the Glastonbury Tor. On our way up a flock of starlings careened over us, making quite a racket. It really was one of the neatest ornithological experiences I have ever had: the roar of their combined tiny wings was almost deafening, and the sight of them swooping and swooshing around in unison above our heads is hard to capture with mere words. Once at the top of the Tor we watched the brilliant purple and red sunset fall over Glastonbury, and were visited by some sheep who were less challenged by the steep ascent than us. It was then to find our way back through farmers’ fields in the dark and drive through country roads back to the good ol’ metrop.
My final batch of guests came in the form of M and D. My uncle Mutsy is currently living in Slough, outside of London, so he rented a car to pick them up from Heathrow and bring them to Bristol. This was quite fortuitous, cause it meant that the next day we were able to drive to see Cheddar, Glastonbury, and Wells all in an afternoon. Cheddar was great. We took a tour through one of the caves (where the cheddar from Cheddar is matured to give it its cheddary flavour), went to the only cheddar factory that makes cheddar the traditional way in Cheddar, and bought some cider. . .from Cheddar. We then had a quick lunch on the Glastonbury Tor (I love being fed by my Smother), and then made it to Wells in time for Evensong. Aside from that, I again played the bad host in order to work on my paper and so sent them out to see Brizzle on their own. I, of course, was a the good daughter and was home every night for supper, and even took them to get a pint of my favourite cider at my favourite pub (but at parent-appropriate times, not student-appropriate times).
It was then to pack swiftly and head off to Europe for a month! But that will have to be another story for another time, boys and girls.
Thanks for tuning in,
Your friend Lina