I arrived a day early, partially because the thing started ridiculously early (and there was a planned tube strike) but it also afforded me the opportunity to see my eldest sister one more time before I leave for a year. I was also meant to get to see Laurel, but sadly this did not work out (bloody tube strike).
However, someone had organised a pre-pre-departure meet-up for folks who will be doing the same teaching scheme as me. Since I was in London, I decided to tag along. It was a scavenger hunt, and I arrived on the sixth clue in the dead heat of the day. We galloped through galleries, breezed over bridges and circled around sun dials, in the pursuit of miscellany and digital validation from an unseen but all-seeing Big Brother, doling out rewards and penalties to the citizens who dared to play its deadly game. By the end, we just resorted to guessing and were actually fractionally more successful. Sadly, there were a lot of names said to me over a long period of time and I only remember three: Will, Josh and Nick. Still, it was nice to meet new people and see parts of London I hadn't glimpsed before.
After this, I went to meet my elder sister at Oxford circus: earlier in the day, I'd scored (i.e. bought) tickets to Death of a Salesman. We went to get a bite to eat and then to the play. I think Orla was quite taken with my new haircut and suit: she said after years of trying I'd finally achieved a 'smart casual' vibe and seemed generally less ashamed to be seen with me.
Death of a Salesman was terrific, but I don't advise seeing it with your much more financially successful older sibling. Sadly, the tube strike ruined the evening as we had to wait forty five minutes for a bus that was then too full to take on new passengers, meaning that by the time we got back, we had time only for the must summary goodbyes before we both had to go to bed.
The next day, I actually managed to reach the venue without too much trouble (one of the overground trains I tried to get was too full to allow people on, but that was all.) However, once I got to the venue, I was really in trouble because the place was massive and we were needed in one specific part. Luckily, I ran into Josh, who'd had the presence of mind to bring a map; we got there at 9.20 but didn't manage to register until 10.10, such a queue was there. Another twenty minutes and we would've been thrown off the programme, according to the official literature.
I'm not going to describe the various lectures and workshops we attended there, I'll just say that it was very hot and some of the talks seemed honestly unnecessary (Will remarked that we' just given two days to being told not to do drugs).
However, in the evening after the first day, we all went out for drinks. It was a bit like Freshers' Week only this time I had some semblance of social skills: I kept meeting new people and asking where they were going and what they'd studied and making jokes about the programme and drinking vodka. It was terrific. At one point we actually left the pub and went back to the accommodation (we were staying in student halls, heightening the Fresher vibe) to play the Pokemon drinking game, which is possibly the most student-y thing one can do.
After the second day finished, I went to see War Horse: I'd seen it before, years ago, on a school trip with Tom, and it was at the time the best piece of theatre I'd ever seen. I don't know if I've changed or the production has- actually, I know for a fact that we've both changed- but this time it didn't hold the same frisson of excitement. It's still a good show, but it felt much more staid this time around; maybe it's because I knew what was going to happen, or maybe I've just experienced so much more theatre- both fore- and back- stage- that it takes more to impress me. The horse remains amazing, though: I think the National Theatre has actually just discovered the secret of Golemry and the 'puppeteers' are just there to maintain the illusion. It's too lifelike. Naturally, Spielberg's decision to eschew this dark wizardry in favour of CGI was part of what doomed the film version.
On the Saturday, I met Poppy and oh, the time we wasted. Eleven hours, all told, and all of it gloriously, extravagantly meaningless. We talked about so much- politics and the human condition and psychology and culture- but with such childish interjections and sophomorish tangents that it was a bit like a PPE syllabus as dictated by a toddler. We also wondered all around the covent gardens area, popping into Forbidden Planet and taking I think the definitive picture of Poppy Dillon:
 |
| You're just jealous cos I'm a genuine freak and you have to wear a mask. |
I commented to Poppy at the end of the day that I thought that this would be the form into which our friendship solidified: we'd meet semi-annually, spend an entire day together, doing nothing and conversing everything and then part, feet aching and hearts lightened. I hope I'm right.
I did nothing of note on the Sunday and then returned to my life, much as it ever was. Still, it was a fun diversion.
No comments:
Post a Comment