Before writing another word, I need to fill you in on the Great
Camera Fiasco. Last night, I returned home from my river cruise, antsy to upload all my spectacular pictures.
But--alas!--when I connected my camera to my computer, the computer refused to recognize it. I fiddled with the cord
a bit and my camera fell forward, jamming the lens. I panicked and pushed the "power" button several times, only
to realize that all I would ever get was an error screen and an automatic shut-down. The camera wouldn't even turn on!
I was devastated, but I went to bed hoping that my problems would disappear miraculously overnight.
They didn't. At that point, I went online, found the address of some
digital camera shops across from the British
Museum, and decided to visit them after my classes at the university. Then
I stuck my camera into my purse (where it will remain until we reach the proper point in my narrative).
Crystal and I took the tube (once again!) to our class building.
Crystal stopped for coffee at Starbucks along the way, and I grabbed a croissant. Class
began, and like yesterday, our teacher was late. As we waited for her to arrive, I wondered if I would be able to sit
through a three-hour course without getting antsy. I needn't have worried! I absolutely adore my teacher, and
I'm going to love this module. Our professor always wears the same jumper and she mumbles to herself (in a very
energetic way!). When she laughs, it's definitely a rather impolite snort/guffaw (I don't think I've ever heard anyone
actually "guffaw" before!), and I love her accent. She's a beautiful reader; it's hard for me to hear her read poetry
and then hear an American pick up where she left off. Why couldn't Americans have retained that charming accent after
colonization??
We began by reading some poetry by John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (I do not
like that man; he's a lewd, pessimistic, foul-mouthed fellow who drank himself to death by the age of 33), Joseph Addison,
and Richard Steele. I fell in love with Addison and Steele as quickly as I'd fallen in hate with Mr. Wilmot. The
two of them published a column on manners, morality, and philosophy in 18th-century London.
Steele wrote about the way he walked about town just observing people and taking delight in insignificant details.
I could whole-heartedly relate! Both Addison and Steele seem to be very polite, very optimistic gents.
I like them very much. They really tried to find common ground between all class levels and cultural groups.
I also learned a great deal about the history of London.
Who knew that London's population quadrupled from the year 1500 to the year 1600,
when it became larger than the next-biggest 60 towns in England
put together? Wow. London's buildings are fascinating, too. I
had no idea that The Monument was built in commemoration of the Great Fire of 1666, and that Christopher Wren's Reconstructive-Era
dome on St. Paul's Cathedral was the first dome to ever have been built in
England. I love the way my teacher phrases her sentences;
she places such importance on every word (and yet they flow so freely!), and she makes everything interesting. I also
enjoy the questions she asks. I haven't felt the cogs in my brain turning in such a way since I took my honors Human
Event class with Dr. Humphrey (whom I still admire and revere).
After class, I decided to spend some time browsing at the British
Museum before visiting a camera shop. No one wanted to come with me, so I
took off by myself. That was an experience! I am getting better at using the tube, but once I arrive at a tube
stop, I have no idea how to locate streets and buildings. (It doesn't help that all of London
grew helter-skelter in the medieval era--hence, all the crazy roads and complete lack of a grid pattern.) After grabbing
a bite to eat at Subway, stopping in Border's Books to ask for directions, and wandering up and down several streets,
I finally arrived at the museum (it's rather hard to miss!).
As I entered the huge archive room, I felt a little thrill travel
up my spine. It looked like Belle's library in "Beauty and the Beast!" (That's not a terribly educated comparison,
is it?) I then chose a hall to begin exploring. It turned out to by the Egyptian exhibit. I was able to
see the Rosetta Stone (WOW!) and rooms upon rooms of gigantic stone statues, engravings, mummies, etc. etc. etc. It
blew my mind. How could all of this still exist after thousands and thousands of years? I stood in front of a
statue of an ancient king and wondered who carved the intricate patterns so many years ago. I then wandered through
Assyrian exhibit, the Parthenon exhibit (how on earth does the British museum have pieces of the Parthenon?), and the Roman
exhibit (I love Greek and Roman statues because they remind me of Renaissance masterpieces). After that, things
become hazy. My feet began to ache, I started sweating profusely (it was HOT today), and my mind began to glaze over
as I wandered through rooms upon rooms upon rooms of ancient artifacts, moneys, pottery, jewelry, clocks, etc. etc. etc.
I promised myself I'd go back and spend a whole day there when things were less cloudy.
I then decided to find the camera repair shop and learn the worst. Being
me, I wandered around for forty-five minutes (the add for the shop said, "We're right across from the British
Museum!") and stopped to ask directions three or four times. I was
finally directed to a small, deserted alley. As I walked down the alley, a man started following me. I grew a
bit nervous. "What's your name?" he asked. "Are you single? Can I have your phone number?"
"No," I said shortly, and picked up speed. "Why not? What's the matter? Aren't you going to talk?"
"I don't give out my phone number," I said, and hurried into the camera shop (hallelujah!). The man disappeared.
I switched my ring from my right hand to my left.
The camera repair shop turned out to be a little hole-in-the-wall sort of place
run by one man who insisted it would cost me 30 pounds before he'd even be able to tell me what the problem was. I said
I'd take my business elsewhere. I quickly made my way back onto the main street where there were plenty of other camera
stores. After visiting two or three, and hearing roughly the same thing, I was about to give up. Finally, I was
able to find a technician who stopped and took the time to help me. He fiddled with the lens a bit, listened to the
noises, and compared my camera with some models they had in the store. At last, he said, "I know this isn't what you
want to hear, but I've got to tell you that this camera isn't worth repairing. A spring is broken in the lens, and to
have the lens replaced would cost at least 80 pounds ($150). Just buy a new camera." I was quite depressed.
I love my little camera! It has so many nice options (the optical zoom is wonderful) and it takes such good pictures.
I sighed. I really didn't need another expense.
By this time, my feet were aching and it was nearly time for dinner.
I hopped on the tube, and finally arrived home. (Actually, "hopped" isn't the right word. "Squeezed" is more
like it. I was literally pressed against the door, stomach-to-back with everyone else the entire way back.)
I told Crystal about my frustrating
day, and she sympathized by convincing me to splurge and eat some of the ice-cream she'd purchased at the store earlier.
I gave in, and the ice-cream was absolutely delicious (raspberry cheesecake--mm!). I did feel a bit better after eating
it. My gang headed off to go pubbing, and I logged onto ebay-uk and started looking for camera deals.
I was very lucky; I got an adequate replacement for only 11 pounds ($21). It'll be on its way to me tomorrow.
Needless to say, it's only 3 MP (compared to 6), it only has a 1.5'' LCD (compared to 2''), and it has no optical zoom
(compared to 3X). It does, however, take SD cards and AA batteries, which were the important things, and it ships
with the USB cable and a camera case (no more broken camera parts!). It won't be anything like my old camera (I'll be
in mourning for months yet!), but it will do.
Goodnight!
