Harrod’s and the Bristol Channel

My suitcase is haphazardly packed with chocolate and books and I’m ready for home in the fidgety/restless/don’t know what to do with myself sort of way.  This last week of term proved to be manic and the idea of  a few weeks at home is becoming more and more appealing. Tomorrow at this time I’ll nearly be home.

Most everyone from my program has left for home already and the city somehow seems quieter and less familiar without them. In short, I’m out of distractions and have no excuse not to be reading up on Aphra Behn and Hellenism, but of course, focusing on anything is quite futile at this time.

In other news, I finally saw the Bristol Channel this week. Nearly everyday on my walk to the library I passed a British woman out walking her two Jack Russels, Reg and Daisy, and a few weeks back we started chatting. She invited me out to the sea village of Clevedon,  just outside of Bristol, to visit the Poet’s Walk and take in the stunning views of the water.  It was an invitation I couldn’t pass up. Clevedon was a well known point of inspiration for famous writers such as Coleridge and Tennyson, and within moments of walking along the shoreline, I understood why. I decided that if I had a car it would be tempting to join the Clevedon Swimming group which meets nearly everyday (year round!) to swim in the Channel. That’s some dedication.

The British Channel

Thursday was our final lecture for the term, and as most everyone in our program was leaving for home, Ashley and I decided to spend the next day Christmas shopping in London. We left before dawn and arrived in London Town just as the shops were opening.  Today, we decided, we would not be tourists. We would simply shop. From Victoria Coach Station we headed straight to Harrod’s, the world’s most famous department store. If you need the best espresso this side of the Atlantic, head to Harrod’s. If you need an elephant, go to Harrod’s.  In Ashley’s words, “It has EVERYTHING.”

We spent most of our time admiring the floor filled with children’s toys.  The beautiful hand carved rocking horse and elaborate four-story dollhouse quickly became our favorites, and just as we started talking about the person who could spend £900 on a children’s toy,  a young woman carrying an Hermés bag  approached, glancing at the dollhouse.  She told the clerk “I’ll take it” as if it was an afterthought. Three dreamy hours later we finally decided to leave, but couldn’t quite get over the place.  Or the darling French bulldog puppy for sale on the fourth floor. If not for the £4,600 price tag he might have been mine.

Outside of Harrod's

Keeping this short and sleep (oh, that was an accident!) as I’ll be at the airport in a few short hours.

Until January,



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December 2011