I think travel serves a dual purpose. It’s chasing something, that’s obvious, but the farther you go to find it, the more you’re running away from something else. I left reality in September, and I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in the winter, at least not to the same day-in-day-out reality. It’s not that that worries me or freaks me out – it’s the if not, what then? dilemma. That’s more than a bit terrifying.
Tomorrow I’m taking a plane to Sweden – talk about running away, now I get to put those existential musings back on the shelf for at least another few days.
Yesterday was a bit lacklustre. Don and Mary ended up lightening our course loads a bit, in light of everyone’s rising irritability and stress, but we still had the Samuel Johnson tour scheduled for the afternoon. We ended up crashing a quiet tour guide’s intimate tour – she wasn’t prepared for us, and didn’t seem too thrilled, especially considering a bunch of her stops were alongside the traffic of Fleet Street – through the historic part of London. That sounds cool, to see it in writing, but the sights focussed on where lawyers and copyists did their work, and what kind of stones were used in some building. Felt a little bit like a high school trip, which is a feeling I want pushed as far away as I can.
The highlights were the “Ye Olde Cock Tavern” (obviously), the Temple Church (from The Da Vinci Code, obviously), and a statue of Hodge, Samuel Johnson’s cat who was apparently a “fine cat, indeed.” Those are all the insightful things I took away from an hour and a half through one of the most historical, vibrant cities in the world.
Those are oysters there with Hodge, because . . . oh, who cares?
We separated for supper, and a few of us went to Trafalgar Square, clamouring about on the giant lion statues before the rain started. Then, we found our theatre for the evening, Trafalgar Studios, and a pub just across the street.
The evening’s show was Top Girls, a work from 1982 by Caryl Churchill. It revolved around a single woman’s ascension through her career, and the family sacrifices she had to make along the way – including abandoning her daughter to her sister, unbeknownst to the child. What made it more than just a simple story was the time framing, as well as the introduction scene of a dinner party between Marlene, the main character, and a group of famous women from history, whose conversations ignite the thematic ideas of the play.
That’s me being really smart and a little bit pretentious about the show. In reality, I get that it was good, but I also get that I didn’t get it. At all. It’s better than the night before – I didn’t get The Veil, but I also get that that play was stupid.
In between all that, there was an upside; I finally had a chance to listen to an advance copy of the Once’s new album, Row Upon Row of the People They Know, on a late-night train leaving the lights of London behind. They're a trio from Newfoundland, trained as actors but excelling as performers, whose debut album was a smash back home and took them to folk pockets across North America and Europe. Stay tuned, this album is going to make a big impact when it comes out – Geraldine Hollett’s lonely rendition of “By The Glow of the Kerosene Light” is a game changer. And check out my review of Repartee’s self-titled album, which should be on The Independent’s website soon enough – no wonder I don’t have half enough time for half the things I want to focus on, my head is all over the world. Not that I really want to change that.
Late night again, but we beat the rain. Today we’re heading into London around 3:30, in order to beat the peak time for transit. We’re going to the Theatre Royal Haymarket, to see one of the shows I’ve really been looking forward to: Ralph Fiennes (Voldemort, amongst other things) in Shakespeare’s The Tempest. I’ve never read the play, but it’s supposed to be a cool story with a good dose of magical realism – if I can find time this afternoon, I might at least use SparkNotes to get some idea of what’s going on, since going into a Shakespeare play blind isn’t a good idea.
Still, I might have to trust in my ability to hear Shakespearian English for the first time and understand it; we’re leaving for Stockholm tomorrow morning, on the 6 am flight. Which means we have to be onboard at 5:30. Which means we should be at the airport before 5. Which means that we need to leave Harlow 45 minutes before that. Since the bus only runs intermittently at those ungodly hours, that means we need to get the 3:08 bus, just down the street from the Maltings. We’ll probably be getting back from London tonight around midnight.
Shat, this is going to be an ordeal. Worth it though.
Now, I don’t always make the right decisions, but I’m not waiting until then to pack for Sweden. Scatter bit of running around today, printing off maps, Googling ideas for things to do, checking flight regulations, and all that jazz.
I’ve got no idea what is in store for this weekend. Seems like there’s been a lot of uncertainty in my life these days – maybe this is good practice for dealing with it. The main thing, I think, is to take it all with an open mind and never get bored with what you’re doing.
Long road, lead me on.
Cheers,
rb
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