home SWEEEEEEET home

Well, I'm finally getting around to writing my final word on London and my summer. I've been home for almost two weeks now, and I'm loving it. I probably should have written this sooner, but I needed some time to be removed from my experience before writing about it. I've been trying to think of a way to sum it all up...not an easy task. I've spent the last two weeks hiking, watching the olympics, indulging in afternoon naps, and eating an incredible amount of otter pops. I've caught up with a few friends and spent lots of time with my family. I start school on Monday, and I'm starting back up at the children's museum next week. Normal life...ahhhhhh. I'm sure I'll be sick of it in no time, but for now I am very content to be here. People say happiness comes from within, and I really understood that when I was finished with this job. I've known that forever; I've heard it forever. But it wasn't until I lived in a situation that could have been perfectly happy and wonderful, but wasn't, that I realized just how much a choice happiness is. I think its possible to be the richest person alive and be the most miserable person alive at the same time. Anyway, this summer gave me a lot to work on, and being back in my familiar environment, I think it will be more of a challenge. Being in my comfort zone, it will be easy to slip back into routine, back into life as it was before London. I've already caught myself failing to incorporate the lessons I learned in my life. I am trying, though, because I'm pretty certain I went there to learn those lessons, not just to stand on the top of St. Paul's Cathedral or walk through the Tower of London. Going out into the world on my own for so long made me feel a bit vulnerable, insignificant, and overwhelmed. It's a big place with a lot of problems and a lot of opportunity. After spending time in the fast paced, high stress world of the big people, I'm pretty content to be a little person. I don't need all that. I do want to make a difference, and I do want to live an active, purposeful life. I just don't need to live an elaborate life. Simplicity is grand. This was an amazing summer, and I am so lucky. Or rather, blessed. I prefer to say blessed. I'm really glad to be home, and I'm really glad that I went. It'll be something that I keep looking back on and keep learning from. And there you have it! Not as in depth or insightful as a conclusion to such a summer should probably be, but there you have it. I'll divulge more to anyone who asks, especially if you want to see my pictures.... :D I'm not entirely done blogging, I don't think. I won't have quite as interesting things to post about, but you never know! So, keep checking if you are interested in the goings on of the life of Hannah. Thanks everyone for all your support and love in everything I do. I love you all!

Counting Down

Once again, I am sort of at a loss for words. Time is winding down here; in five days I'll finally be back in Utah, and a week from right now, I'll be finished with this job. The last couple of weeks I've spent time in some incredible places, such as New York City, upstate New York, and Nantucket. My time in New York City has mostly been limited to toy stores and candy shops, since my shopping/exploring buddies are all eight and under. Those stores have been loads of fun, though! My favorite is F.A.O Shwartz, which features the giant piano from the movie "Big". There's a guy dressed up like a toy soldier at the door, and there are all sorts of demonstrations and goings-on there. The candy shop we went to, Dylans, reminded me of Willy Wonka's shop in that movie, where kids are running around laughing, there's music and more candy than you could ever imagine. Once again, lots of fun. We wandered through a bit of Central Park the other day and had a picnic on a hill overlooking a carnival. On our way to the airport in London, the taxi driver said he'd recently been to New York, and it felt familiar because you see it so much in the news and in movies and shows. It's true, New York does have a familiar feel to it. We spent a week in Nantucket, staying with Farran's friend, Allison. Allison has two positively lovely children. Her 5-year-old boy can be a little rowdy, but these kids listen to their mother, respect her and each other, and play nice...I almost wept with joy. The girls I watch were particularly difficult, unfortunately. Except Little Farran. On our second day there, she fell and cut her leg just below her knee and had to get six stitches. She was sweet all week! Well, her knee is better now, and so she's back to her old self....sigh. The twins were absolute misery because they decided that staying at a friend's house meant they should scream particularly loud, be particularly disrespectful, be particularly picky, and say a particularly large amount of swear words. By the end of the week I was entirely ready to be done with the job and gave Farran my last day--August 8th. Besides the difficult children, though, Nantucket was lovely. It's a beautiful little island, quaint and charming. The beaches were nice, the temperature livable, and the town enjoyable. I had a precious five or six hours to myself the whole week, and I didn't really know what to do with myself during them! Three were on Friday, when FINALLY all of the kids went to camp. Usually at least one found an excuse to stay home. The moms went out to run some errands and I was alone. Then, on Sunday, they went to the beach for a few hours and I stayed home. My days off lately haven't been much of days off, which has made the weeks feel a bit longer, but I only have six days left so I can handle it. We came back to New York on Monday, after having to drive through a couple states to get there since our flight straight to New York was cancelled. We spent three days there. Farran was really busy, so the girls and I spent a lot of time watching cartoons and going to their favorite stores...over and over and over again. I never EVER want to see another lame cartoon. Whatever happened to Pinky and the Brain and Ninja Turtles? Seriously. Anyway, that was rather mind numbing, but the shopping was fun. Until we went clothes shopping...at the same store...for three hours. I've had a headache ever since. Anyway, yesterday we finally headed out for the country. The ride up here was a little rough with rowdy, tired, irritated children, but once we got here, things settled down. Meaning, tempers settled down. The kids have been non-stop playing, which has been great. I don't really have free time, but my time is spent less trying to get them to stop beating each other up and screaming at each other and more making sure they aren't breaking anything. I much prefer the later. We'll be here in Millbrook until either Sunday evening or Monday morning. I'm crossing my fingers for Monday morning since everyone gets along better here. Little Farran gets her stitches taken out Monday afternoon, and Tuesday evening we fly for Utah! I've been trying really hard to not have a negative attitude, but I would be lying (which I try even harder not to do) if I said I wasn't positively ecstatic to be finished with this. Like I said before, I don't regret doing it. It's been good, and I've learned a lot, and I do love these kids. I just need a break from them. A long break. A really long break. Anyway, I'm surviving, and things are much better here at their country house, so I think I'll make it home alive. I've been more focused on hanging onto my sanity than taking pictures, so I have a very pitiful amount of them, especially for New York. Hopefully I'll get another chance to walk around, and I'll be certain to get my camera out.

State of Mind

Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - ooh oh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear

Im one card short of a full deck
Im not quite the shilling
One wave short of a shipwreck
Im not my usual top billing
Im coming down with a fever
Im really out to sea
This kettle is boiling over
I think Im a banana tree
Oh dear

Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - uh huh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear

Ooh ooh ah ah
Ooh ooh ah ah
Im knitting with only one needle
Unravelling fast its true
Im driving only three wheels these days
But my dear how about you

Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened
It finally happened - oh yes
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Just very slightly mad

And there you have it.

(lyrics and music by Queen)

Yes. And there you have it. I...I don't really have anything else to say.....

Quicky

I thought that once we were in Nantucket I'd have a little free time. The kids, after all, were scheduled to be in camp from 9 am to 3 pm. Well, I didn't count on one child with a double ear infection and another going to the emergency room to get six stitches, therefore both staying home for the rest of the week. Nor did I count on the kids opting out of camp to stay home and torture me--er--I mean...play. The point is, I've been a lot more busy than I counted on. Especially in the last day or two, I've had the song "I'm Going Slightly Insane" by Queen stuck in my head. The twins have been particularly abusive lately, and I'm afraid my energy for them is entirely depleted. Little Farran has been pretty sweet since she got her stitches, partly because she's more or less helpless (they are on her knee, so she doesn't walk--she hobbles) and partly because everyone has been paying attention to her to make her feel better about having her holidays disrupted by a semi-serious injury. I feel like my being here is almost entirely pointless because the girls won't listen to me and they are entertaining themselves by playing with the kids of the woman whose house we're staying in. I guess I've seemed somewhat melancholy because Farran (mom) asked me what was wrong. I told her I was missing home and family. Telling her that did about as much good as telling her that this job is stressful. "Once you're home, you'll be wishing you were back here!" She keeps telling me I shouldn't be homesick and no sooner will I be back with my family that I'll be sick of them, that I should enjoy seeing all these beautiful houses that we've been staying in. I should enjoy the houses...because that's the only part of the vacation I see. I'm not saying that I should get to go off and play and such, because this my job and I'm getting paid for it. (Actually she hasn't paid me in about six weeks...but she promises she will...) It's just not very much fun lately. Sitting around the house babysitting sick kids isn't exactly thrilling. And the twins really are abusive. Sometimes physically, but most of the time emotionally and mentally. I'm not really taking offense to their words, just to the fact that they are allowed to say those kinds of things to me with little to no fear of getting in trouble for it. And even then I'm not really taking offense, I'm just getting worn out. I'll try and post something a little more detailed and hopefully some pictures soon, but we'll see. So far I haven't taken too many pictures, since mostly all I've seen has been the inside of houses. Anyway, less than two weeks to go. If anyone is willing to have a get-away car ready for me at the airport, I may be willing to pay handsomely for it. Say, two dozen applesauce chocolate chip cookies?

Farewell to London

I'm writing this a little premature, but I'll only be in London for about another 36 hours and I'm not sure, with all the busy business of packing three girls for a two month vacation, that I'll get another chance. Well, my heavens what a time its been these past ten weeks. Ten doesn't seem like a very big number, and in some ways I feel like I've just barely unpacked, and now here I am repacking. The last little while that I've walked around our neighborhood or gone to some of the places I frequent the most, I've begun to realize how used I got to being here. When I walked through Kensington Gardens for the last time yesterday, I slowed down a little and tried to enjoy it a little more than usual. The food here hasn't been awful, but its taken some getting used to; today I realized that it will probably take some getting used to eating American food again. Having done without so much of the things I was so used to, like peanut butter and regular bread, I wonder if I'll even like them still. This past week was especially hard for me. With the girls out of school, I'm a lot more busy at the house. For some reason, being on summer holiday hasn't made their attitudes much better. In fact, they've been particularly difficult recently. Their mom doesn't quite understand how stressful it is for me, or how exhausting. The second they get too annoying for her, I'm in charge and she's suddenly very busy... which is fine. That's what I'm paid for. Sometimes I just find it so tiring that I have to steal away for a few minutes to regain my energy. I think the next few weeks, traveling to New York and Nantucket, will be exciting and lots of fun. I just have no idea how me and Farran are going to lug seven huge suitcases all over the place. I sort of feel like she just packed the things that were in the way, things that she wanted to get out of their closets so they would look neat. I'm not sure we're carrying anything they'll really need. But I'm just the help, what do I know. Ten weeks is a long time to be away from home. At least it is for me. It's a long time to be out of place. Its a long time to be at work. I'm still on the job for at least three more weeks, maybe four. Leaving London still feels like some sort of conclusion, though. I won't go through all the things I learned while being here, partly because there are far too many, and partly because I've already burdened you with them in previous posts. No, I think all I really have to say is that it's been good. Not easy. Good. It's been difficult; one of the hardest things I've ever done. I don't regret coming, though. I know before I left people would say things like, "Oh I've heard horror stories about nannies getting terrible familys" etc, etc. I heard that a lot. And some days I am pretty certain that this is the most horrific thing I've ever done. Some days its all I can do to put on a smile and not beg Farran to send me home on the next flight to Salt Lake. But I don't regret it. I got myself into this, and I think I needed it. I don't think I could have learned so much or grown so much as I have since getting here. Even reading in my journal or through the beginning of my blog, I can tell I'm a different person now than I was on May 5th, before I got on that plane. I hope its a good thing. I'm pretty sure its a good thing. I haven't been able to relax and be myself other than in my own company; I haven't been much of a personality since I'm constantly either at work or exploring by myself. I wonder if when I get home all I'll be able to do is sit on the couch and stare at the wall and slowly unwind. Or perhaps going so long without having a personality, simply being the nanny, will make me even more energetic and social when I get back. Besides that, I think the changes have been good. I sort of know what I'm looking for from life. I guess I sort of knew before, but the details of it aren't quite so hazy. I'm sort of at a loss as to what to say about leaving London...I'll miss it, but I don't know that I'll feel a desperate need to come back for a while. I'm excited for something new, and after that, I'm ridiculously excited for home. I always thought the phrase "home is where the heart is" was somewhat trite and cliche, but now I feel like that phrase is me in a nutshell. Three weeks. I can make it.

Give me liberty or give me...chocolate and a hot bath!

Don't be alarmed, but I think I may have seriously overdosed on chocolate today. In England, they call 999 for emergencies, so if worse comes to worse, I know how to get myself help. Actually, I am quite enjoying the aftertaste of the last half hour or so. You see, today was the girls' last day of school. Little Farran has a half day tomorrow, but basically today was it. So, I had a very good reason to go back to Patisserie Valerie and get myself another enormous chocolate eclair with chocolate cream. I cannot describe to you the glorious deliciousness that it was. The utter contentment of the moment...it was beautiful. After doing the necessary chores around the house this morning, and after Farran was off for a big meeting and the girls were off to school, I pulled on my hoodie, my hat, my tennis shoes, and grabbed my umbrella and went out into the rain that has been pouring for the last three days now. Besides Patisserie Valerie, I had another errand to run. My aunt is making chocolates and I had a few chocolate shops to visit while being in London that had very special flavors (rose and violet in particular). So, not only did I have the eclair to eat today, I had to (HAD to) sample the chocolates, as well as some I bought yesterday from another store. It was a messy job, but I think I handled it quite well. Along with the chocolate fix, I also had myself a very long, very hot bath as it may be one of the last times I get to wash until we get to America. It's incredibly difficult to shower while the girls are home because they think it is hilarious to walk in on me, and since the bathroom doesn't lock...well, generally I just wait until they are at school. Since there is no more school, though... Anyway, suffice it to say, this morning and afternoon have been my way of mourning/celebrating the last day of school. I plan on cuddling up in my bed and reading the last book of the Chronicles of Narnia until I have to go pick them up from school. I'll probably post at least once more while in London, but after that I'm not sure what my internet situation will be. Stories about New York and Nantucket may have to wait for a while.

Social Rehabilitation

It has recently occured to me that I have been almost entirely absent from any sort of social scene the past two and a half months. This hasn't bothered me too much, other than missing hanging out with friends and family, but upon realizing it, I've begun to see the effects its had...I've laughed at myself quite a lot for it actually, because its rather pathetic. I mean, I'm not exactly socially talented anyway, but after two months of interacting with no one but children and my employer, it's gotten even worse. Think of the most socially awkward person you know or can imagine, and then picture someone worse, and that's me. My friend Rachel is studying in London, and the last few days she was here before going home for her summer holidays, I helped her move to her new flat. The poor thing, I only realized now how terrible that must have been for her. I was terrible company! Being alone a lot, I'm perfectly content to sit in silence. I think that most people feel the need for conversation when they're with someone else, especially if they're friends. And I've more or less lost my conversation skills. I find myself trailing off my sentences, or stopping in the middle of a thought and finishing it in my head, or just babbling off on something no one but me is interested in, long after people have stopped listening. I'm sort of a background person here; people notice me and acknowledge me, such as the other moms and nannies, but I'm not really significant at all. A background person. And that's okay, temporarily. The only thing is that it sort of shoots me off to another planet, because I do have a brain (sometimes I wonder, but I'm pretty sure its up there) and it wanders when its not engaged in some sort of interaction. Wow, I can't believe I'm admitting this, but I guess as long as I'm on the subject of social alienation, I might as well: I have caught myself quite frequently having conversations with myself as I walk down the street--out loud. Now this wouldn't be so bad at home where there aren't all that many people, but London is a bustling city with tons of people on the street almost all the time. Yeah...fortunately they are generally pretty quiet conversations, but they are nonetheless out loud. Or I'll catch myself humming or singing or whistling, and not realizing it (all the while wondering why people are looking at me funny). On my Stonehenge trip, I made a few friends, which I think I mentioned in that post. One of them, Brad, is studying in London, so he gave me his number so we could hang out. It took a while for me to get a chance to set something up with him, but today we finally got together. Oh my. The poor guy. He and one of his friends, a cute girl named Natalie, met me at Fortnum and Mason and we did a little chocolate shopping before heading to Leicster Square and China Town to meet another of their friends and to go to lunch. My brain sort of shorted and suddenly I had nothing I could think of to say to anyone. I know its sort of just like that when you're with people you don't really know, but its worse for me now because when I don't have something to say, my mind wanders off and I start thinking about all sorts of nothings, and I miss half the conversation and look spacey or uninterested. I think its a bad sign if people keep asking you if you're okay during conversations, like Brad did at lunch. Oops! So, I will beg everyone's patience when I come home. Ease me back into the world of normal people that socialize. Rehabilitate my neglected social skills and soon enough I'm sure I'll be able to carry on a decent conversation without slipping into my own reverie and imagination. Maybe. I'm not making any promises ;)

One Ticket to Neverland, Please

I myself am somewhat tired of these posts that are less of happenings and more of ponderings. My purpose in actually doing this blog was to let people know what I'm doing on this side of the pond, not so much to make you endure the mess that is my mind. However, lately I've been doing more thinking than seeing and doing, so I'm afraid this is what you're stuck with. I've had another apostrophe. I mean epiphany. And that is that James Barrie knew what he was talking about when he wrote Peter Pan. Growing up is lame, because most of us do it wrong. I think as children we see grown ups as the serious, boring, responsible ones. They are the authorities, the ones who know everything, the final word. It's sort of exciting as we get old enough to finally have some responsibility, some say in the way things happen. The terrible part about it, though, is that we forget all the things we knew when we were kids. Like how to imagine and how to believe. The more I've thought about it, the more horrified I've been. The value of the things grown ups leave behind when they get older is immense and the fact that it's forgotten is absolutely absurd. I can't think of another way to explain it but that its like watching someone shove hundred dollar bills into the shredder. The jaw dropping, staggering ridiculousness of it, the reckless waste it is! It's no wonder that in Neverland all grown ups are pirates. This does relate to London, I promise. I'm getting there. And I'm sorry that all of this is sort of duh epiphanies. It's nothing new or original, it just all suddenly has meaning to me now. Anyway, if people held onto the attitudes and mindsets they had when they were children, while maturing otherwise, think of what the world would be like. People would be quick to make friends and slow to make enemies. They'd be loyal and honest. They would have a strong sense of justice. They would reach out to help each other. They wouldn't see the point in drawing out disagreements and misunderstandings because they would see that there are better, more enjoyable things to be done with their time. They would cheer each other on instead of trying get ahead of each other. I mean the list of improvements it would make in the world is endless. So why do we leave all that behind when we get older? Why do we (speaking about the adult world in general) come to think that other people aren't human? Why do we think our world is the most important? Why do we keep our eyes down when we walk down the street instead of smiling at strangers and neighbors? Why do we feel the need to get ahead of everyone else? I'm speaking in generalizations, remember, but it just seems so...silly. So pointless. When we try so hard to make life better for ourselves, we end up making it more of a struggle for everyone to exist. If, instead, everyone had an eye out for everyone else--if everyone cared and wondered and acted--we'd eliminate an enormous amount of the world's issues. If we smiled instead of scowled, if we laughed instead of shouted, if we befriended instead of shunned, wouldn't we come to understand each other better? Pirates indeed. I have been, once again, remarkably fortunate to have adults in my life that are amazing and wonderful and know what its all about. And I know it's not fair to make generalizations, so no one take offense, please :)Anyway, this relates to London because I've been getting more and more frustrated with myself and my inability to fully pull myself away from this rubbish attitude I've had lately. I've just been so tired and almost resigned to finish up my time in this job and finally get on with my life. Hello--I'm living in London and getting paid for it. I've learned more about myself in the past two months than I ever could have imagined. For me to complain is absurd. Which is why it's been so irritating to me that I still am struggling with being here! I kept thinking "oh these kids, these kids!" and how exhausting and frustrating they were and how ready I was to be done working with them. But that just didn't sit well with me; kids aren't born mean and spiteful and ungrateful. I mean, they are straight from heaven! They are pure and innocent and wonderful. So why should I be blaming anything on them? And then I realized that it hasn't been the kids that have been making my life difficult....it's been the adults. When just me and the kids are together, we have loads of fun. Yes, there are disagreements and issues, but we work them out just fine. It seems like when we're with their parents, everything is such a drag and is so much more complicated than it has to be. I've had the song "Elaborate Lives" from Aida stuck in my head ever since this thought struck me. Adults tend to view life as complicated and intricate. Children see things as simple and clear. Maybe they aren't always right, but its just...simple. And with simplicity comes the ability to slow down, to think, to understand, to relax. To stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off and just spend time enjoying life, rather than trying to pack it full of all these accessories and extravagances. These are good people. I don't mean to imply anything contrary to that, its just that I think there is so much that they could do without that would make their lives so much more enjoyable. Since their life is so elaborate, it makes it difficult for them to relax and actually enjoy what they have, including each other. It's really sad to watch, and really frustrating. They ar so close to happiness, but all they seem to be able to achieve is amusement. That's not enough for me. Not nearly. I guess my solution isn't to never grow up. As much as we would all love to stay kids and never have to worry about mortgages or car payments or changing diapers or scrubbing dishes, I think growing up is exciting and gives us all a chance to learn and contribute and experience. I don't think growing up ever ends, either. Which means its never too late to turn around and remember the things we knew when we were kids. I'm sort of slow on the uptake, so I'm sure all of you have already realized this. I guess I did, too. It just never really applied to me before. That's my problem; I learn things on time, I just don't really learn them and apply them to myself until much later. Someday I'll be on top of things.

Bath and Stonehenge

Yesterday was a pretty good day, as days here in London go. Okay, that's a lie, it was absolutely fantastic. Woke up, got the girls off to school as usual, went to Maggie's cute assembly on Roald Dahl, cleaned up the girls' rooms, and then what? Oh, well, then I left for the day to go explore Bath and Stonehenge. Oh my heavens. It was incredible! I got on a big coach with forty or so other people and we headed out of London with Chris and Tony, our driver and guide respectively. Tony was lots of fun and easy going. We drove past Windsor Castle, the Queen's country home, on our way out of the city. We drove through the countryside, which is so, so beautiful. It was a long drive into Bath, but well worth it since I got to see that beautiful landscape. Bath itself is a positively lovely city! It's also the home of Johnny Depp, but sadly, I didn't see him. I did, however, visit the Roman Baths and the ancient city of Aquae Sulis! It was so neat to be in a place that has so much history. I mean, people used those hot springs over two thousand years ago! It was fun to wander around and imagine what it must have been like to visit it when it was a Roman spa. While I was in Bath, I saw the house where Jane Austen grew up, the house of General Wolfe, and the home of General Nelson. Also, on our way out of the coach station in London, we drove past the house Alfred Hitchcock lived in. Anyway, Bath was a lot of fun to wander around in. It's so different from other English towns. After Bath, we headed towards Stonehenge. Tony was chatting away at the microphone for most of the drive, and suddenly said, "We'll be to our pub in about five minutes--there's Stonehenge to your right--and we'll have about an hour to eat supper." It was so strange to drive right past Stonehenge! Like it was off the side of the road on I-15, just sitting there. I mean, how would it be to drive past Stonehenge on your way to work every day? Anyway, we got to the pub in Durrington, just up the road a couple miles from Stonehenge, and ate dinner. It was absolutely delicious, and since I was on my own, I sat with people I didn't know and therefore made new friends! There were five people close-ish to my age, and four of them were a girl-boy pair, so I wasn't really overly friendly with them at first because I didn't want to be annoying. Come to find out, however, both of them were brother and sister, not boyfriend and girlfriend, so we ended up having loads of fun talking and exploring Stonehenge! Dianna and Eric (I think those were their names...) sat sort of close to me on the coach, so we had talked a little before. Brad and Elise were at the very back of the coach, so dinner was the first time I talked with them, since we were all pretty spread out in Bath. Dianna and Eric just graduated from university and are traveling for fun. Brad is studying in London and Elise, who will be a senior in high school next year, came out to visit him. There was an Australian whose name escapes me who I talked to a bit, also. When we got to Stonehenge, only half our group could go past the ropes at a time. Dianna and Eric were in the first group and the rest of us were in the second. When Brad, Elise, Aussie, and I got to go in, we had loads of fun taking pictures and such. Now, until recently, I haven't had much interaction with people who aren't ten years younger than me or more. Mr. Oram's art history group was here this past weekend, and I spent a lot of time with my friend Rachel Burnham helping her move into her flat for the fall before she went home for the summer. Up until this past weekend, though, all my adult conversations have been with parents about their kids. So, I'm afraid my social skills were a bit rusty and sometimes I found myself going on about something utterly and completely dull and useless, and therefore felt a bit ridiculous. It was fun to watch Elise and Brad have so much fun together, though. It made me wish my siblings were here to turn Stonehenge into a playground with me! It was so incredible to stand right next to those stones--to touch them! I can't describe just how stunning it was. I mean, I've seen pictures of those rocks all my life, and heard about the mystery and phenomenon that they are. And there I was, touching them, goofing off on them with my tour buddies like it was a jungle gym. It really was so fun. I wish I wasn't such a social gimp. I realized the other day that I haven't had much of a personality here. I mean, I'm either wandering around by myself or working. Working with these girls requires me to be a bit more grown up than I like to be. If I'm totally goofy, they walk all over me. So, I had some trouble being comfortable being social. I think it was okay, though, because Brad gave me his number and said to give him a call if I wanted to do something. Anyway, it was a really amazing day. I loved Stonehenge and Bath was beautiful. Tomorrow will be my last big day to explore. Next week I might be able to do some quick things, but the girls don't have club after school since its their last week in school, so they have to be picked up at three thirty every day. Wednesday is the twins' last day, and Thursday is little Farran's last day. Then, we have about five or six days til we leave for the States! Pretty wild.

A Dangerous Pastime...

Thinking. Besides walking, this is probably the thing I do the very most these days. I will only be in London for two more weeks, and then I'm headed back for the States. Not home yet, mind you. Oh no, New York and Nantucket are on the schedule for the two weeks after that, and THEN home. More or less. Anyway, my point is that as my time in London winds down, I'm feeling a bit like I've done my experience here a bit of an injustice. The challenge that it has been seems to get all my attention when I'm talking to people, posting here, or writing emails. And yes, it has been one of the greatest challenges of my life! But I feel like I have neglected the absolutely wonderful things that make up my life here. I talk so much about the headaches the girls cause, and leave out the sweet conversations I have with Maggie when she begs me to stay by her bed just a little longer. I never mentioned that when she told me she didn't like to go to bed because she had bad dreams, that I talked to her about praying. I told her how I used to have very, very scary dreams, and sometimes I still do. I told her that if I say a prayer to Heavenly Father to help the dreams to go away, I never have bad dreams. She didn't seem too interested, but the next night, she was so excited to tell me that she was going to pray for only good dreams! And promptly put her hands together and pinched her eyes shut to pray. I don't write about how I get to walk through Kensington Gardens at least once a week on my way to church, and enjoy the open space and the trees and the grass. Somehow the fun I have with these girls slips through the cracks and all anyone hears about is how loud they can scream, the number of swear words they know, and how fun they think it is to ignore me. I just want to set the record straight, and while I don't know that I'll be able to set it straight to everone I've talked to, here is my attempt. This family has been spectacular. Yes, they are different from my family, yes they have a different dynamic. Yes its been a challenge to adjust. But Farran especially has been very considerate of me and has made certain that I have the best experience I can. Yes there are frustrations here and there, but it would be a bit uncanny if there weren't. And I love these little girls. Yes, they are spoiled, but they are sweet. The other day Maggie told me that "it's good luck if a pigeon wee's on you, but its bad luck if a pigeon poos on you." Every night they insist on hearing stories about me when I was little. They are smart and they are funny and they know what's going on in their world. They have taught me a lot about myself and the kind of person I want to be. For a while there, I was certain that I wouldn't miss them much when I was home. That was silly of me; I'm going to miss them desperately. Maybe not the tantrums or the attitude, but I'll miss chatting with Maggie, I'll miss playing backgammon with Charlotte, and I'll miss telling stories to little Farran. And I'll miss London! I am a little surprised about that, because I'm pretty tired of this big, big city. But I'll miss the way the buildings look and I'll miss my walks through Kensington Gardens. I'll miss Pollock, Cezanne, Monet, and Ruebens. I'll miss St. James gardens. I'll miss Patisserie Valerie and Pauls Boulangerie. I'll miss Holland Park and Sticky Toffee Fudge ice cream. Mostly, though, I'll miss those girls. Maybe not immediately after I'm home, but I know I will. Anyway, I just felt like I've been way too negative about these last two months. Tomorrow marks my eight-week mark. Yes, its been hard. Yes, I've felt like crying quite often, and have broken down in tears once or twice. But the challenges always smooth out for the better. Like the tube being on the fritz and making me half an hour late for church resulting in me getting to walk through the park in the sunshine afterall. Or Maggie deciding she was sick and didn't want to go to school and therefore cancelling my plans to explore for the day, giving me the chance to get some projects done that I've been meaning to do for a while. I think every situation has its flip side. I think too often I forget that Heavenly Father loves me to a ridiculous degree, and if only I look for it, every situation can have something wonderful about it. He wants life to be wonderful, so He sends the challenges that make me a stronger person, but with them he sends small miracles and tender mercies. So yes, that is about all that I wanted to say about that. All I would add is that quote again. "Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms--to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." To choose one's own way.

This and That

After the last rather lengthy posts, I thought it might be a welcome change, if not for you, for me, to write something a little more brief! So, here is the this and that of London....

Today I tried to watch the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, but I'm not exactly vertically gifted, and every tourist in London and the surrounding area were also trying to watch the changing of the guard. I did catch glimpses now and then.

People in London aren't the cheeriest, but I do my best to try and smile at anyone that will make eye contact with me. They always seem to be staring at my feet...I certainly don't have cute shoes, so it must be that they are trying to figure out how someone with feet that small can walk without tipping over. Either that or the British have some fascination with feet. Seriously, though, its not just that they aren't looking at me to not make eye contact, they are looking at my FEET! It's not like I can help the size of my feet.

I was walking down the street earlier and this old man in his car drove by, singing opera at the top of his lungs. It was so funny because he was gripping the steering wheel and leaning into it and everything. I had quite the chuckle and decided that I hope that I never hold back the urge to sing with the windows down at the top of my lungs.

I hate to lie. Hate it. So when someone asks me if I have any money...sigh. This weird guy wanted money to catch a train to his job interview. He said two pounds...then three...then wanted four. By then I was already looking for some dough for him, so I couldn't very well say just kidding, don't have any. He gave me a hug and kissed my cheek and asked me if I had a boyfriend....sigh. I've been kicking myself over it all day. Why not just say "Sorry, gotta go"and high-tail it outta there?

I've been reading the Chronicles of Narnia while I'm here, and am having an especially fun time doing so when Lewis uses things I've seen--like St. Paul's and Trafalgar Square--to describe things in his book. Like, "Aslan was as big and as still as the lions in Trafalgar Square" or something like that, and I know exactly what he's talking about, because I was there just the other day. It's loads of fun.

The girls' favorite game to play, to my surprise, has been Backgammon! We haven't played too much lately, because we haven't been on the best terms (we're getting much better), but for a long while, they would come down to my room at seven thirty in the morning, or earlier, and we'd pull out the backgammon board and play a few games. I don't even go easy on them and they beat me all the time. Days seemed to go better when we started out with a little one-on-one backgammon time.

I have loads of little stories and snipits from my explorations here, like the crazy lady in Chesterfield...but I think I'll remember them, or at least, remember them in greater detail, when I'm showing pictures and chatting. What does this mean? Well, this means that if you want to hear them, you are gonna have to spend a little time with me when I get home! Sorry. But I'll make you cookies if you do :D

Keep on the Sunny Side...or the less rainy side.

Now that I have related the more difficult and humbling aspects of my weekend, I'd like to share how absolutely delightful it was. I was watching the BBC News this morning, just for a few minutes (the lady said she'd have breakfast for me "at half nine" and when I woke up I realized I didn't know if that was half TO nine or half AFTER nine...it's half after nine) and it was talking about how British people are always so miserable. It didn't take long for me to get tired of the list of things that they are miserable about, so I turned it off but thought it funny that people are so quick to blame their misery on outside influences rather than their own failure to choose their own attitude. If you read the post before this one, you'll know that it took me some time to actually apply this to myself. Anyway, even though I am just as tired as I was before my weekend off, I have a much better attitude, due in part to an epiphany, and in part to the fact that Saturday was wonderful. I know I said it rained the whole time, but I love the rain. I absolutely adore it. I took a bus to Baslow and then from there walked for about five hours straight. I walked through fields full of sheep and trees and green and nothing else until I got to Chatsworth Estate, which is an enormous, famous and beautiful old country house. If you've seen the Pride and Prejudice movies, you've seen it--it's Pemberley. I didn't spend much time in the house itself, because the hills behind it were filled with trails. They are covered in trees, and between the trees they are filled with bracken and heather. It was brilliantly green with splashes of incredible purple. In the trees, the rain was more like a mist than a rain. Like someone had rigged a giant mister like the ones they put over the vegetables at the grocery store into the tree tops. It swirled in the wind and everything looked like a fairytale. I kept slipping away from reality and expecting Robin Hood, Will Scarlet, Little John, and the rest of the merry men to jump out of the trees and surround me. I kept imagining their hiding places and where they would post lookouts and where they would set traps. I was sure that I would look down and the well-worn trail will have disappeared from under my feet and I would be following a deer path into the unknown. Being sick almost delirious with lack of sleep only enhanced my imagination. One point on the trail went up to a waterfall, and above the waterfall was a bench and a mirrorlike pond where the water fell from. It reminded me of the place where Robin Hood and Maid Marion go to be alone. I was always startled to look down and see pavement under my feet, or to see other hikers round a corner, or to hear a plane fly overhead. My only disappointment of the outing was that I didn't have time to explore every trail. Once I finished one and came back to the road, across the way there would be another. Several times I was on the road headed back down to try and catch another bus to a different place (I had plans to see several spots) but would find another irresistable trail. The only thing that got me out of those hills was the fact that I was getting a bit desperate for the loo. Once down, I right near turned around and went back up. Wandering around like that, doing one of my favorite things ever--hiking--was so much what I needed. I almost tried to catch another bus, but decided instead to take a look at the actual house. It ended up costing less than I thought to go in, so I didn't feel too bad that it was closing in about an hour and a half. The house was beautiful, and the gardens...oh my heavens, the gardens...I could have spent a whole nother day in the gardens. They were huge and beautiful and diverse and secluded and absolutely wonderful. There were flowers and ponds and bridges and huge rocks. There were fountains and statues and mazes and benches. Everything you could possibly imagine in any garden in the world, it was there. Since it was rainy and getting close to closing time, there weren't very many people there. I would have loved to spend more time there. Anyway, I eventually had to leave because I wasn't sure what kind of buses I'd get once it got later. When I got back to Baslow, I had about thirty minutes until the next bus to Chesterfield, where I would catch another bus, I hoped (the bus to my stop would leave almost as soon as my other bus got in) to Stainsby Mill. I was staying at Stainsby Mill Farm. With that half hour, I went into a hotel pub and got some hot chocolate. It wasn't quite Stephen's, and could have used a bit more chocolatiness, but it was hot, and that's what I needed. I caught my bus and barely made my other one. I could barely see through the windows because of the rain, and I wasn't entirely sure when my stop would be, but I saw Hardwick Hall on top of the hill just in time and got off at the right stop. I had to walk for a mile or so back to the farm. My body was ready for sleep so I read for a bit and went to bed early. Hardwick Hall, by the way, is quite the place itself. Both it and Chatsworth were built by Bess of Hardwick, who was the second most influential woman in England. The first was the queen. Hardwick Hall is a couple miles up the hill from Stainsby Mill. Once I got to Stainsby on Friday, I dropped my stuff, put on my tennis shoes, and went exploring. I made my way up the hill, through herds of sheep, to the Hall. It was a fun climb. Sheep are funny, and sometimes very ugly. It was mostly closed down, partly because it was almost six thirty by the time I got up there and partly because lots of it isn't open on Fridays for some reason. I couldn't get in the house, of course, but there were some paths I could follow, so I did. I wandered around and walked some more paths outside the grounds for a while until I decided I should go back. I was absolutely ecstatic about being out of the city. Finally. Now I'm back, but that's okay. I had another bout of homesickness while I was in Derbyshire, but that's okay too. The hives I mentioned in my last post are coming back, but that's okay too (only because I have more benedryl). "The last of human freedoms [is] to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances."

Weekend Woes and Whoa's

Sometimes you just need a couple of days when no one expects anything of you, you have no place you have to be, nothing you have to do, no reason you have to take a shower. A carefree weekend, with no work, no stress, and everything goes just right and you can completely unwind and spend some time doing nothing but spending time. Which is why I took the opportunity to spend the weekend in the Derbyshire countryside. I reserved a room at a lovely little bed and breakfast on a working dairy farm, picked up some brochures on possible hiking trails in the area, and hopped on a train, leaving all my cares on the platform. Well...as much as I'd like to say that this weekend was like a warm, relaxing, soothing bubble bath, I'm afraid it was more like a bucket of cold water thrown in my face. Why? Well, it certainly could have been a lot worse. And I'm certainly not regretting the approximate $250 it cost me to do it. I made all my trains and buses, (although I did almost go to Southampton instead of London on my way home) but a few things went...a bit awry. First of all, I've been a bit sick lately, so I was coughing a lot the whole weekend, especially at night, which made for restless sleep. This was not helped in the slightest by the fact that just before I left on my little jaunt, for some outlandish reason, my skin decided it would be a fabulous time to break out in the most ridiculous hives. I haven't had hives since the third grade. This came out of nowhere. I still have no clue what caused it, but it was absolutely maddening. I've never itched so bad in my whole life. And I mean everywhere. Legs, arms, back, stomach, rear end, everywhere. On a scale of one to ten, a mosquito bite is about a two. This was about a thirty. So, combined with that and a bed that sunk in the middle and caused an uncomfortable sleeping position, my first night was relatively lacking in sleep. I sort of dozed for about an hour before waking to see what time it was before dozing off again, only to be awakened by either an attack of itches or coughs, or sometimes both. Besides all that, I have this problem when I travel, that actually can be reflected onto my life as a whole, that I have destinations in mind, but I never really work out how I'm going to get there. I know where I am going, and only when I go to get there do I realize I don't really know how to get there. So, I had plans to visit several spots in the Peak District and go hiking here, walking there, picnicing there. And then I woke up Saturday morning and realized I was about six miles from the nearest town, and about one mile from the nearest bus stop, and had no timetable for any buses or anything. Did I mention there was a steady rain all day, too? Having caught a total of four buses that day, barely making two of them, I made it back to the bus stop after my day out and had to walk the mile or so back to the farm house, in the rain, in my clothes and shoes that were soaked from already having walked the entire day in the rain. Fortunately, having bought benadryl earlier in the day, the itching had stopped and that night I only had to deal with the coughing. I still woke up every hour or two, but this time the sleep in between was more like sleep and less like lying there with my eyes shut. It took me a long time to get home today mostly because I had to do a lot of waiting. Services don't run as much on Sundays, which, of course, didn't occur to me until it was Sunday. It was an hour until the bus came, after I walked to the stop again, and when I got to the train station and asked when the next train to London was, the woman said, "No trains today." She waited several agonizing seconds before adding that there was a bus to Derby, where I could catch a train. So, I waited half an hour for the bus and drove for a good while to Derby. Here is where it could have been worse; I was two minutes late for the train, and the next one didn't leave for another hour. Fortunately the train I was two minutes late for was fifteen minutes late itself. It ended up being a bit more than that, and this is where I almost went to Southampton, but in the end I got the right train and was none the worse for it. After a two hour train ride and another half an hour on the busy tube, I finally made it home. Just my luck, the key was acting funny and for several minutes I fiddled with it, nearly in tears at the thought of being locked out until the family came home. Begging for the door to open, it finally did and I was soooooo happy--until the alarm began screaming in my ear. Totally startled and at a loss as to what to do, I panicked, running this way and that, trying to find a place to plug my dead phone into to call Farran because of course I don't have her number written down anywhere. Phone plugged in--"Battery is charging" I know its charging!!! It wouldn't let me do anything. I rush downstairs, suddenly remembering the number IS written somewhere. I find it, rush to the house phone and dial it three times, each time it said the line was busy. Get off the phone! I yell, nearly in tears, before realizing that the reason its busy is because that's the house number, not Farran's cell. I rush back over to my cellphone and randomly push buttons, shouting at it to behave. I don't swear often, but I was exhausted and the alarm, quite loud and certainly being heard all over the neighborhood, had been going for ten or more minutes by now and I was expecting the police to break down the door and apprehend me any second, so I may have said damn it. I was totally panicked and finally realized that I had to not only plug the phone in, but actually turn it on for it to work. Sigh. After finally getting hold of Farran and getting the alarm off, I felt like crying, laughing, and swearing all at once. Instead I poured an enormous bowl of coco pops and took a nice hot shower. So when I say that this weekend was exactly what I needed, I suppose most of you will want a bit more of an explanation. Because this post isn't long enough already ;) Well, like I said, it was like a bucket of cold water to the face. This is effectively jarring when one needs to be woken up. A nice, soothing hot bath will only make one sink further from awareness and attentiveness. And really, this weekend wasn't all that bad. Saturday was so wonderful. I'll write the details later, but I basically got to hike around in the most beautiful, enchanting forest I have ever seen. I'm realizing more and more that the trouble with me is that I have to be reminded and taught and retaught over and over again, and even then, I seem to have a hard time retaining the things I learn. Long story short...er...sort of...is that this weekend helped me realize that there really isn't any excuse to be selfish. I know there are times when we've earned the right to be selfish, but ultimately, it doesn't help anything if it lasts for more than an indulgent hour or two. If we--I should say I since I am the only one I can really speak for--If I keep it up much longer than that, I don't entirely pull myself out of it, and pretty soon all day every day is selfish. It's hard to see where you're going if you're always looking at your own feet. This house is very competitive--you have to be selfish to get any attention, and even then its short lived. It's an exhausting environment, and I let it get to me. Instead of keeping in mind that having a rotten attitude would only play right into that cunning devil's plot, rather than protect me from the rest of the rotten attitudes in the house, I let myself become just as selfish and childish as the girls I nanny. I was thinking only of my needs, and how their needs made it difficult for me to do what I wanted. My thought process was that if these girls are going to be brats, then I am not going to be the fun, happy nanny I could be. I'm going to be the bossy, rule-abiding nanny that tells them to do things and won't play with them. They don't earn me as a playmate until they've behaved. Well, the fact is, they are brats. Their environment hardly allows them to be otherwise. I know they are sweet to the core. They just have been taught to be brats. Me being bratty right back made everything go downhill. Maybe they don't deserve a fun nanny, but having a grumpy one doesn't help anything for anyone. This weekend being a bit less smooth than I hoped helped me see how selfish I've been. I didn't see it before because everyone else was just as bad around here, and I felt sort of like a victim. But, being on my own and listening to myself pout about being covered in hives, complain about coughing all night, whine about being tired, disgusted me and showed me how utterly pointless it is to be in a bad mood for more than a few minutes. No one is invincible, and sometimes things just get to you. It's up to you, or in my case, me, to save myself from any further misery by letting go of those irritations and moving on with life without them hanging on you all the time. I just had an image of Marley from A Christmas Carol, weighed down by the chains that represent the bad things he did in his life. That's sort of how I view it; its no ones fault but my own that I was having a hard time. I'm creating my own weights, my own difficulties, by being frustrated and irritable. Anyway, I could go on, but I'll spare you. Simply put: Lesson learned.

Work with me...

I'm new at this blogging thing, so if you are an avid reader and don't want to miss anything I've posted ;) you may want to scroll through my posts to make sure something I started working on several days ago but only recently finished isn't tucked back there among posts you've already read...I can't seem to work out how to put them in the right order. I'm working on it :)

Blood and Guts

I've been putting off a visit to the Tower of London because I kept hearing how crowded it always is. With some of the other places, you can avoid the crowds by going at certain times of day. Like, St. Paul's in the morning. Well, the Tower is busy, busy, busy all the time! I finally made it there, though, and I'm very glad I did, despite the crowds. The museums and things like that I can get by just fine wandering around by myself. In this vastly historical and significant places, such as Westminster Abbey and the Tower, I much prefer to have a guide of some sort to give me the brush up on history and the less well known stories that I need to make the visit actually mean something. I was a little late getting to the Tower because I didn't realize it took so long to get there. It was about eleven thirty, so I decided to get lunch. I ate my very first London Fish and Chips sitting just outside the Tower of London (the chips were great, the fish was so-so). I went in the gates and waited for one of the Beefeaters, the yeoman warders of the fortress, to start a tour. So did about seventy other people. It was a big group, but the warder that led us was wonderful. He told us all sorts of stories about the rack, heads on pikes, public executions, and such. One story in particularly gruesome story was that of James Scott...let's just say the executioner, as the warder put it, "was a part-time butcher and a full-time drunk." Whew. The Tower has a lot more history than I realized; I mean, I know it's a symbol of London, but I never realized how well it deserved to be used as such a representation of the city. One of my favorite things about it is the ravens that live there. Legend has it that if ever the ravens leave, the White Tower will collapse and with it the entire nation of Britain. So, they always keep at least six ravens at the tower. Currently they have three extra. The Beefeater that led my group was the Ravenmaster. I was a bit rushed at the tower because I got there late and the girls were convinced that because of parent-teacher conferences, they didn't have netball (it took me a while to realize that netball is basketball, more or less) after school like usual on Wednesdays. So, I rushed home only to find that they did have netball afterall. My visit was rather quick, only about two and a half hours, but I was glad to go. There is amazing history there, and most certainly not the boring kind of history.

Balance and Revelation

I am tired, sick, frustrated, and missing home terribly, but I couldn't really ask for more. I like to think of myself as having it together. You know, smart enough to know that I'm not all that smart, and therefore willing to learn and be open. Well, in thinking myself such, I realized that I'm not. I've been feeling like I've been doing a good job of being understanding of the girls, but not letting them get away with things. I've been feeling like things have been pretty balanced here; it's a challenge at the house with the girls, but its been countered by all the incredible experiences I've had and the things I've been able to see. I know for a fact that I am one of the most blessed people in the world; I have a job, a home, a great family, wonderful friends, money in the bank and in my wallet, a car, an education, an opportunity for more education, etc. etc. etc. The list of my blessings is off the charts. Which is why it bothers me that I've been a little...down lately. Not depressed, just a bit subdued. Working with these kids is no easy task, and it hasn't gotten any easier since I started. In fact, its gotten steadily harder. I'd go into details but, as those that get emails from me regularly can attest, I've got a lot to say on the subject and could go on for ages. I'll sum it up to this: I was talking to a gorgeous girl in my ward, Emma, who works with the stake primary presidency. She was asking me about my work and I said these girls are pretty spoiled. She mentioned how fitting a word "spoiled" is, and I've thought a lot about that. It's actually a really sad word. Something wonderful, like a flower or a peach, is spoiled when either it is neglected or mistreated or not allowed to grow in the way it should. Kids are spoiled when their upbringing and their environment prevents them from being the tender hearted, sweet, gentle little lights they came into the world as. Children aren't born spoiled. They aren't born prejudice or rude or ungrateful. It breaks my heart that the world can spoil them and make them bratty little hellions. Okay, so that wasn't very summed, but anyway. I've been subdued the last few days because I feel somewhat helpless, as I've sort of felt since I got here. Now, though, I'm helpless and tired, and therefore a bit less resiliant. I feel helpless because I have absolutely no authority with these girls; the second I ask them to do something they don't like or tell them they can't have/do something they want, they scream and run off to mommy. "Hannah's being mean!" I started out, six and a half weeks ago, thinking that as long as I was consistent and patient and enthusiastic and understanding, things would improve. I've sort of gotten walked all over for my efforts. Now I've come to a point where I need to make a decision: do I push through these next weeks in the attitude that it'll be over soon enough, and hey, I get to explore London, or do I start fresh and risk getting shot down for it? I like to think of myself as a strong and determined person, and certainly not one to give up or avoid something just because its a little risky. Its just that anything I establish with these kids is entirely dissolved the second their mom or dad walks in the door, and they revert back to screaming and disrespect. I won't be here long enough to change the way they've been doing things for the past eight years, so is there much point in wearing myself out being an energetic, walked-all-over nanny? I know what the solution is for the behavior here--actual punishment rather than threats. They are smart kids, they understand consequences. They also can figure out how far they can push things before a real punishment will happen. They can push it and push it and get plenty of threats without actually having more of a consequence than an annoyed mother and an exhausted nanny. I know all this sounds horribly pessimistic. Don't worry, I haven't given up or resigned myself entirely yet. Tomorrow the family is going on vacation to Devon, and I am going on vacation to Derbyshire. It will be a welcome seperation, and it will give me the chance to hopefully get over this annoying cough I've got, and get away from these girls and all the stress and frustration they cause! I've believed for a long time now that "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" (Eleanor Roosevelt) and also that "the last of human freedoms [is] to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances" (Viktor Frankl). They can't get to me unless I let them get to me. I think being tired and sick hasn't helped, but I also need to buck up and not leave my personality behind when I get up in the morning. It's harder in this situation than it has been in other things in my life, but I know I can do it, and I will do it. I just need a weekend in the countryside to convince myself of that. I think it is utterly pointless to blame your attitude or behavior on anyone else, since it is you who ultimately decides how you will react. I think it is giving others undue power over you, which is not a very wise thing to do because it takes away your ability to choose exactly how you will live your life. Therefore, I'm going to go away for the weekend and not think about London or the girls or any of that, and I'm going to come back with a better attitude and more determination. It would be silly to spend three months being nearly five thousand miles away from home just to be frustrated, irritated, and exhausted. It'd be a terrible waste. I found out quite quickly that I wasn't here to sightsee. I'm here to learn, and if I don't actually act on what I've learned, I haven't learned it afterall. So, here I go, off for the weekend with the intention of leaving all ill feelings, both physical, spiritual, mental, everything, behind, hopefully for good. At least, for now...

Tuppence a Bag

Before I left for London, I listened to the Mary Poppins soundtrack a lot. Well, on Monday, I again listened to it a lot...particularly the song about the bird woman. Why? Well, because, there I was, sitting on the steps of St. Paul's, imagining the tourists away and the little old bird woman selling her bags of seeds. Silly, I know, but I had a good chuckle about it and thought, as I ate my banana, that it was pretty cool. St. Paul's was incredible. The second I walked in, I walked slower and felt quieter. The nave is big and colorless, and therefore full of pure, clear light. Beyond the nave, at the crossing, the transcepts branch off and the dome shoots up three hundred and sixty-five feet. Starting at the dome, the ceiling is brilliantly decorated with mosaic and painting alike. I sat and stared at it for a good while, looked away, around at the columns and memorials, then back up at the ceiling and was again completely taken aback. Every time I looked away and looked back, I had the same gaping awe come over me. There was such space! Such color! It was brilliant. Positively brilliant. One of my favorite parts was on the East end of the cathedral, there is a chapel dedicated to the American soldiers that died defending Britain in the second World War. It was a very touching place. The British citizens raised the money to build the chapel, where the original chapel had been damaged in the Blitz. I got to climb up into the Whispering Gallery, which is just below the dome. After that, I climbed up to a level a bit higher, which took me outside to a wonderful view of the city. That was where I saw Tower Bridge for my first time. I continued my climb to what I believe is called the Golden Gallery, which is on the very top of the dome, just below the lantern. What a view! I've had the privilege to have some pretty amazing views in my life, and this definately is up there on the list. I sat on the top of St. Paul's, drinking my orange juice, gazing out on the Thames. The Tate Modern was directly across from me, Tower Bridge down river to my left, the London Eye and Westminster up river to my right. I could have stayed up there all day long, but unfortunately it is a popular spot, so it started getting a little crowded. Oh yes! I almost forgot. Before I scaled the dome, I had just finished exploring the cathedral floor and was just about to head down into the crypt (where I had lunch and saw the tombs of Christopher Wren, Wellington, and Florence Nightengale, among others) and it just so happened that they were about to start a service of the Eucharist, under the dome and in front of the quire. So, I took a seat and attended my very first Eucharist. I didn't actually take the bread and wine, but it was quite a thing to observe. My favorite part was where we were all invited to "share a sign of peace" and everybody shook each other's hands and said "Peace be with you." It was nice. I wasn't sitting particularly close to anyone, and was just there to observe, but a woman walked over and shook my hand and such, as did one of the priests (I'm not sure what they are actually called, come to thing of it...). I liked it; while the rest of the service felt memorized and practiced, this part, while we were told to do so, was still a sweet moment. After my jaunt in the crypt, my climb to the top of the dome, and my wander around the cathedral floor, I finally took a seat directly under the dome and took it all in; I've never seen such a place. Westminster was fantastic and spectacular, but this...this was an absolute architectural wonder. Ever since taking art history with Mr. Oram at dear old Davis High, I've loved architecture, especially cathedrals and buildings with features like that incredible dome. So beautiful. St. Paul's was another one that is in my top five favorite visits since I've been here.

Mummies and Tombs and Towers, oh my!

Whew! I think I say this about every week, but what a week! I already wrote about my walk on Tuesday, so I won't revisit that. Monday I went to the British Library. What a place. I saw Shakespeare's first folio, a Gutenburg Bible, two of the surviving four copies of the Magna Carta, DaVinci's notebook, letters from Darwin, Jane Austen, Captain James Cook, and others, original handwritten scores by Mozart, Beethoven, Rachmaninov, Bach, Handel, Chopin, and others, handwritten and illuminated manuscripts and books of scripture from many, many different religions and cultures, among other things. There was a really neat exhibit of the Ramayana, the Indian epic. If anyone has seen A Little Princess, its the story that Sarah tells the other girls at the boarding school. One of my favorite movies ever, by the way. This really was an amazing place. And I only saw two rooms! I didn't even get to the part where you can pull books off the shelf. On Wednesday, I went to the British Museum. There I saw artifacts from ancient Egypt, Assyria, Nubia (major memories from Aida were brought back), Greece, Rome, Europe, and just about everywhere else. I saw mummies, which were absolutely fascinating and maybe my favorite part. The Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon were pretty hard to beat, though. I saw artifacts from Sutton Hoo. I saw the Rosetta Stone. Um...I saw a lot. On Thursday, I went to Westminster Abbey. Oh my heck, it was beautiful. I was stunned from the second I stepped inside to the moment I left. It was one of the most spectacular buildings I have ever been in. I mean, this is the place where England's kings and queens have been given their first communion, been married, been coronated, been buried. I saw the tombs of so many of them. I loved Poet's Corner, where there are tombs and memorials to famous writers and poets, like Shakespeare, Chaucer, Lewis Carrol, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Thomas Moore, and so many others. SO many. I mean, the walls and floors are absolutely covered, in the whole building, with memorials and tombs. It felt more like a cemetary than a church. It is well deserving of its fame. It was one of my favorite things I've done so far. However, I must say that what I did on Saturday is probably my absolute favorite so far. Maybe. I'm not entirely sure. Anyway, the family went for a weekend getaway Saturday morning and got back this evening, which is Sunday. So, that meant that I had all day Saturday to do whatever I wanted; I whole day off. So, I hopped on the tube over to Waterloo Station where I bought a ticket to Salisbury. I got on the train, prayed it was the right train, and headed off. The countryside is so beautiful here. I'm hoping to plan a whole weekend off where I can get a room in a little bed and breakfast somewhere small and quiet. Anyway, when I got to Salisbury, the first thing I did was buy a map. I have a tendency to get distracted and wander and get myself lost. Which I ended up doing later in the day, so the map came in handy. Anyway, the cathedral, which was the reason I chose Salisbury, was hard to miss. I wandered around the town in the general direction of the towering steeple and eventually made it there. It just so happens that this year marks the 750th anniversary of Salisbury Cathedral. In the states, a centennial anniversary of anything is a big, big deal! I never really understood just how young our country is. Yes, the 750th anniversary. Anyway, I was allowed to take pictures inside of Salisbury, except inside the chapter house, where one of the four surviving copies of the Magna Carta is (that makes 3 out of 4 that I've seen...I may have to go find the fourth). So, I have lots and lots and LOTS of pictures of Salisbury! Far too many to post on the blog, I'm afraid. Anyway, this place wasn't quite as packed with tombs and memorials and decoration as Westminster, but it was absolutely beautiful nonetheless. The volunteers that worked there were all older people, and were so, so sweet. One man saw me taking pictures of the stained glass windows and said, "If you want a really good window, my favorite is just down the way." He and two other elderly volunteers proceeded to give me an entire history of the windows of Salisbury Cathedral, which was very much appreciated. I love things like that, especially when I get to hear it from such lovely and pleasant people as those. I think a lot of the time we get so settled into where we live and the people that we are around that we forget that people that don't think or believe like we do are just as wonderful as those that do. Anyway, there's more to that, but I'll try not to go off on another spiel as I've done in earlier posts. I wandered around the cathedral for a couple of hours before catching a tour that went up into the tower of the cathedral. This was absolutely brilliant. I walked across the roof of the nave and climbed a million stairs to the inside of the tower. I stood under the belfry for the strike of the hour, then went up into the actual belfry. While there, the quarter hour struck, quite resoundingly. Then, we climbed above the belfry and I stood directly under the steeple. I could see straight up inside of it, all the way to the very top. There were doors to the outside of the tower, and I got to look out on the town and countryside of Salisbury. It was so beautiful. I felt like Quasimodo, and started for the first time to envy him rather than pity him. It was so peaceful up there, removed from the hustle and bustle of life. I could have stayed there for hours, but unfortunately there was another tour coming and we had to go back down. After that, I finally left the cathedral, after having been there for almost four hours. I could have spent more time there, but I wanted to see some of the city, and I wasn't sure when the last train to London left. I wandered around, just seeing what there was to see in town. I didn't see the whole thing, of course, but I did see a good amount. I walked through some markets, which were mostly closing up. I bought a few things, and didn't buy a few things that now I wish I would have. I ended up losing track of which way I was going and got fairly lost. Fortunately, I had the map! After following sidewalks that weren't actually sidewalks and trying to follow street signs (signs in England have gotten me lost more than they have gotten me unlost) and eventually made it back to the train station with a good twenty minutes to spare before my train, the last one for some time, came. Oh yes, I failed to mention that I ended my excursion in Salisbury by getting dinner at Dominos. I find it so strange the things you find in these little towns. Tourist catering, I suppose. Anyway, it wasn't quite like American Dominos, but I was craving pizza, even if it cost almost ten dollars for a little personal pizza. Sigh. Anyway, Salisbury has been my most expensive day so far, with the train ticket, shopping, and such, but I'm of the mindset that I have no idea if or when I'll be back to England, so I'm going to do all I can while I'm here! It was a positively lovely outing, I must say.