Day 1 - London

So, I've finally gotten around to posting something. I'm in Manchester at the moment chillin' at Trent's place but I woke up ridiculously early (or 8am). Trent apparently got to sleep an hour ago. I'm too much of a nanna to keep up with that boy!

So back to our first day. We did make it to the British Museum eventually - it took so long because we were all feeling like death that day. We only had an hour to spend there though, so having been through this at the Met I made a game plan and hightailed it to the information counter. Seeing as there were two things I absolutely HAD to see, I needed to make sure I saw those first.

I hadn't even finished asking where the Rosetta Stone was when the guy at the counter began circling it. "So I guess you know what my next question is, right?" He does, and circles the Elgin Marbles for me. I love efficient people.

So I headed off for the Rosetta Stone, bypassing the gift shop. We all know how much I love a good gift shop. And how much I love bloody Museum guide books. I have so many and haven't opened one since I got them.

Anyway, I entered the hall where the Stone was supposed to be and wandered around a bit, bypassing the people standing in the middle to look for it. Couldn't find it. I checked my map again, which is really no good, because we should all know by now that I never inherited my dad's awesome map reading skills or sense of direction. I could be facing the bloody thing and not know it.

Turns out I was. That crowd that was gathered? That big chunk of stone they were gathered around? Yeah. My only excuse is that I was jet lagged.

Anyway, I saw it, I read the information about it, I took lots of pictures, I moved on.

Is that bad? Don't get me wrong, I was really excited to see it, especially after studying it in Ancient History. And I can definitely appreciate the significance of it - I mean, that bitch was the key to understanding hieroglyphs! But it's hard to appreciate something properly when people are giving you dirty looks for standing in the way of their photo.

So I moved on through the rooms to find the Elgin Marbles. They were in the last room of this wing, so I went straight there. And looked around. This was another thing I wanted to check out because we had learnt about them in Ancient. Basically, these were taken from the Parthenon in Greece by Lord Elgin and Greece has been asking for them back ever since. Basically, the British Museum thinks that they shouldn't go back to Greece because of the pollution and other factors, whereas Greece is like, "Bitch, give it back!" There were a whole bunch of marbles in the room, but I was trying to figure out which were The Ones.

Turns out, all of them.

To be honest, it was a bit of a let down. I mean, they're nice and all, but at the end of the day, they're not in very good condition and they're actually kind of ugly. Oh no she did not just say that! Oh yes she did. Too many horses. Ick. I did like the headless statues, but didn't really like the friezes. I've never really been one to stand and walk around taking in every single frieze, reading the notes, constructing my own understanding of the story. Well, not after a 24 hour flight, anyway.

So that's what happens when you build something up too much.

I saw the rest of the museum quickly, though I missed a whole bunch too. I did get to see the Crystal Skull... Oooher! This could have saved us the last Indiana Jones movie - someone should have told them, "Look, it's right there in the British Museum, K? Now don't go swinging on vines like a bloody monkey because it looks ridiculous. About as ridiculous as an old man running around trying to regain his youth, giving interviews about how he still fits into his old pants. You may fit into your old pants, but you still have Old-Man-face." claws retract.

Only, the skull's a fake. It was made in the 1800s. And it's not an alien. Yawn. Why have it on display then? Fake, alien-less crystal skulls do not impress me. Except that it did and I took lots of photos of it.

After the museum we did what any sleep-deprived people would do - we drank ourselves silly.

First at some pub called the London Pub. Guess why we went there? Cos it was the first pub we stumbled upon on the way home from the BM. Not because we are tourists, thank you very much.

After that I can't remember whether we went to another pub or just back to the hostel to drink at the bar there, but we did eventually end up there and drank until happy hour finished, which was at 9 o'clock. Having been drinking steadily since 5pm, having an effed up liver and being death, 9 seemed like a good time for this nanna to call it a night.

And that was my first day in London.