As indicated by the title of this post, I spent this past weekend in London, where I was reunited with three old friends: one of my university pals, who moved to the UK years ago; the British Library, where I’ve done a significant amount of research; and the Victoria and Albert, my all-time favourite museum.
Wanting to minimize the disruption to my sleep schedule, and thus the chances that my London sojourn would be interrupted by irregular neurological activity—I’m looking at you, epilepsy—I tried to rest on Friday night and took the train on Saturday morning. Since my friend M and I had arranged to meet at 1 p.m. and I arrived a few hours beforehand, I did the natural thing: went straight to the British Library, my version of Disneyland and steps from King’s Cross.
I won’t bore you with the details of my time in the BL.
Just kidding! Here’s the lowdown. While there, I visited the amazing special exhibition “Shakespeare in Ten Acts,” plus the special exhibition “Punk 1976–78,” then browsed the “Treasures of the British Library” collection. (Care to see the Magna Carta, anyone? Or Gutenberg’s Bible of 1455? Or Jane Austen’s writing desk?) Then, naturally, I bought a whole bunch of stuff at the gift store.

Time for ice cream! Happily reunited, M and I indulged in gelato at Gelupo. This was seriously the greatest frozen dessert I’ve had in… forever? And that’s particular meaningful coming from me, given that I eat frozen yogurt, ice cream, or gelato on an almost-daily basis.

Next, we went to the V&A, which I try to do every time I’m in London. There’s just something about it (like the fact it’s the V&A).
That night, we returned to M’s flat, ordered Thai, and relaxed. I drank the ferret-themed beer that I purchased solely because my husband had a pet ferret as a child that he still talks about with surprising frequency and great affection. When I sent him a picture, he responded with a text message declaring that he was “dooking in pleasure” (note that dooking is ferrets’ happy sound).
What a man. ❤

The next morning, we went to Highgate Cemetery. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’re aware that I’m a bit of a weirdo and won’t be surprised that I was really excited to see famous peoples’ graves. We saw the markers for Karl Marx, George Eliot, Douglas Adams, and the list goes on. Exciting stuff (but really).

After a lovely late lunch—alliteration for the win!—we did some shopping and made our way to King’s Cross, and I caught a train back to Cambridge.
The British Library, excellent company, incredible gelato, ferret beer, (a visit to the resting place of) dead people, no seizures: these, my friends, are the makings of an ideal trip to London.
From you weird father (where do you think you got it) — I’m so happy that you photographed George Eliot’s gravestone. I’ve seen photos before that looked very gloomy. Yours cheered me up. Any floral tributes on the grave?
Continue to have a great time.
Yes, there were a few flowers! Next time I’ll bring a big ‘ol bunch and leave them on your behalf.