Merrie Olde Englande

I don't have a lot of time to write, but here's an update. It was cold and drizzly when I arrived, which is exactly as it should be. I saw sheep and lambs cavorting in a hilly pasture from my train to Cambridge. I even saw hedgerows, which permanently stuck "Stairway to Heaven" in my head ("If there's a bustle in your hedgerow..."). Hedgerows! You can't get more English than that!

Yesterday we met up with my old grad school friend Lemont, walked through Soho, and sat down for a pint at a pub called St. Andrew's or something suitably British. We had Indian food, which is sort of like eating the local cuisine, since Indian food here is supposed to be the best in the world (outside of India, I presume). I saved my favorite art historian from being run down by a London taxi—we both looked the wrong way before crossing, but she was a few feet ahead, and I heroically grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back. I haven't heard yet whether the Queen will award me a knighthood for my bravery.

Today we walked to Trafalgar Square, went to the National Gallery to look at a Caravaggio exhibition, then walked down to the houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. We saw the narrow street leading to Tony Blair's house, but we couldn't go in to chat with him because of the huge metal gate and craggy policemen (I can't call them bobbies because they're not wearing those cute hats).

My feet are killing me, but I wouldn't trade this for the world. Tomorrow I go to York to hang out with Lemont, then it's on to Edinburgh for pub crawling. This will probably be my last update until I get back. Until then, cheerio, and various other British sayings.