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Friday, February 27, 2009

Lucky Girl

So, all of us over here at the collége on The Sleeve, decided that spending 6 whole weeks talking about, to and around a bunch of pre-adolescents was just about all we could take and that it was time for a holiday. By chance and semi-arbitrary, indifferent ticket-buying, I spent my entire holiday in the UK. Despite an initial hiccup in my transport—cancelled flight, kind stranger offering the services of his company to share an all expenses paid cab ride to catch a boat (Go Shell! What a nice company they are!) to Portsmouth—I arrived safely in London.

A few days were spent with my new best friends, lovely assistants of Landerneau, ( ma old turf. Okay, for only 9 months…) in the City that One Can Not Tire Of. Highlights included: the amazing hostel we stayed in (clean! 24 hour reception!), dining with a fellow alumna from my alma mater, and getting interviewed about Noel Gallagher by the BBC on the street for a children’s program.

Then it was off to Haworth to creep around the Bronte Parsonage and gape at every discarded boot, letter and fragment of ribbon amassed there of the famous Bronte sisters. I could fill reams detailing how blissful it was to gaze, enraptured, at the sofa where Emily died, etc,etc, but I’ll spare you.

Then after a Saturday morning spent re-enacting Wuthering Heights on the Yorkshire moors, I took a train-bus-train to the wild North, to visit with the Lewisaurus. (Okay, so obviously that’s not the real adjective for someone hailing from the largest Island of the West Hebrides, but that’s all I could think of when my inquiry was met with some Gaelic word I know I could never spell correctly. Lewisor? Leeewwwee..uh..eeesss…??) As she winters in Glasgow (alright, and studies there as well) she kindly allowed me to stay with her there for an entire week.

En gros, this little winter holiday has reminded me just how blessed I am. I saw it in the quick-set style friendships that made London a little bit more zesty, the kindness of the strangers in Yorkshire, and most of all, in the thoughtfulness of the dear Lewisaurus up in Glasgow. She gave up her room the week I was there, and I noticed that on her wall she had a map of Brittany, framed with photos from our year together as assistants. What can I say? I felt most blessed while looking at those photos of us together. I’m not entirely sure why, but, it does wonders for the heart to finally reach a foreign city, from another foreign city, and encounter photos of oneself, lovingly displayed.

1 comment :

Pekka & Halle said...

awww! that was so nice about the pics! i think the only one i have here is a picture of us in our pjs with greasy faces and a shirtless treebs sprawled across our laps for some unknown reason.

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