Backblogs: Wednesday

Wednesday:

Last Day of class for the week, thank goodness. Seminars are meant to be taught once a week, so this three days in a row junk isn’t good. C’est la vie. I suppose.

Class was fine, Prof. Murin seems to be getting better and better at moving class along, which is nice. I suppose it takes the profs time to adjust to a new year too, so he gets a pass for a rough week. He made the first big mistake of the class today by calling out a kid who was on his laptop, not me, but someone close to me.

The kicker is, he wasn’t doing anything but taking notes and downloading a TV episode for later. Murin looked more than a little foolish when he was so convinced Blake was screwing around that he stopped his lecture to look at his screen, which was basically blank.

After class we decided to walk down to Fleet Street once again to try the pub built on the site of Sweeny Todd’s shop. The Old Bank of England Pub) is incredibly nice, and with absolutely top notch food, but one certainly paid for the opulence.

Massive vaulted ceilings, a brass rail on the bar, and thick hardwood tables don’t come cheap, but whenever you get the chance to buy a meat pie from the site where Mrs. Lovett supposedly packed poor Sweeny’s victims into her pies, well, you’ve just got to. We settled the bill (circa 100 pounds for 9 of us) and headed back to Chelsea.

It was hard to treat the evening like any other night, we were all pretty excited to leave the next morning for Wales, but work is work. As I sat on my bunk, trying to read Egil’s Saga, I realized I had forgotten my headphones, so I hopped down to grab them before I started. As I climbed back up to my top bunk, I noticed it was at a rather, um, non-traditional angle. Namely, any angle not 180 degrees. As I slid my weight forward to try and escape the Picasso-esque contraption, the bed lurched forward and suddenly my top bunk became a bottom. Other than a bump on the leg, I was fine, albeit a bit shaken by the ride.

Even though I was able to get the bunk back into its rightful place, I figured a night on the floor was probably for the best. The bunk was as heavy as all get out, and I was wiped out from the effort of moving it, so I decided to end my work and watch the Champion’s League matches.

Sadly, our lounge was full, so I had to go down to the 8th floor to find an open TV. It was Ryan, the 8th floor RA, and a random Greek guy watching the match. All of us were pretty well versed in the game, which made it a lot of fun, also the RA made us cake. Cake is ALWAYS for the win. Always.

After the matches ended, Ryan and I decided that it was probably a better idea to pack that night than in the morning, since we were due to depart at 8:30am. Bags were packed, alarms were set, and I burrowed into my makeshift sleeping bag on the floor. Wales in the morning!