It's Sunday evening, and I'm just in the library reading some articles on Lewis Carroll for class tomorrow. This weekend was relatively quiet, although yesterday was a full day trip to the Lake District. It's a beautiful area, famous in part because it inspired Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter. We went on a long hike around Glassmere Lake, ending up in front of a famous gingerbread store "Sarah Nelsons" and took the 3 hour bus ride back. We got really lucky and had a gorgeous day with about two clouds in the sky. By the time we got back, we were exhausted and went out for about an hour before realizing we were all falling asleep standing up.

Today I went to Evensong services at York Minster. It's the only way to get into the cathedral for free, but it was a beautiful service and the building is just absolutely incredible! On tap for this week- rugby practice tomorrow (scary) and then a couple of us are going to Liverpool on Thursday, to make a little pilgrimage in order to pay homage to the home of Paul, John, Ringo and George.


This just in: I really am in love with the city of York. I know this because even though London is amazing, wonderful and gloriously overwhelming, I was genuinely excited to return to what I'm quickly considering home. However, an update on the places I've been to: Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Tate Modern Art Gallery, St. Paul's Cathedral, London Bridge, Piccadilly Circus (easily the busiest place I've ever been at night,) Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, Kensington Palace, Buckingham Palace. That's not a full list but it's all I can think of right now. I wouldn't mind living in Kensington Palace, I'll tell you that much. There's a certain serenity about it and the surrounding park that's a pleasant surprise in the middle of the organized chaos that pervades the streets.

On another note, I don't much understand modern art. However, I saw a piece by Rothko- 9 magenta-y purple murals originally commissioned for the 4 Seasons that I stayed by for a very extended period of time. My favorite part about museums with stuff that I don't get is watching the other people look at art. When they stand back with their arms folded, all I can think about is if they don't get it either but are trying to look like they do. It'd be funny if modern art was actually a giant hoax making people think they're looking at something fantastic while the artists snicker in the back. Or maybe I'm just a philistine. Probably the latter!

I don't much like long posts, and this one exceeds my comfort levels; pictures to come later