Chocolate & Rabbie Burns...

Just a couple quick updates before flashing back for a continuation of the girls' trip photography marathon.
1. I dyed my hair. By myself. It's only a temporary glaze, and I think Matthew secretly hates it, but it was time for a change. And since I can't bring myself to trust my head to a salon around here for fear of ending up with a Euro-mullet or a half-shaven head, semi-permanent store-bought dye was a big leap for me. The color is "Chocolate," aka brown. So it's my natural color, just with a little added umph. My sister, who is the queen of pulling off risky hair treatments, is proud of me. I'll try documenting the change tomorrow night when hubby and I attend...
2. Robert Burns Night! Dun dun duh. Burns was a Scottish poet, lovingly known by Scotsmen as "Rabbie" Burns, and Girton College's formal hall tomorrow night is in honor of him. Guess who gets to wear a Harry Potter robe??? ME! And Matthew does too, of course, but he has done it before so he isn't as excited as I am. We are taking a cab with our friend Asha, and I am really looking forward to having an excuse to dress up, eat food that I didn't have to cook, and venture out to Girton. I may or may not have purchased a new black dress and a pair of heels for the occasion. And by may or may not, I mean that I did. But they were all on sale, so it's justified, right? Matthew thinks I'm trying to ditch him. New hair, new clothes, actually wearing makeup. But quite to the contrary, it's all for him. He's stuck with me.

Ok, those were the current headlines, but back to the girly escapades in London. I forgot to share this  image taken on the South Bank one night after dinner.

What the heck??? Top one most frightening street performer ever. He (at least I assume the snowman was male) was just standing by the river, all alone, cup on the ground, slowly waving his hand back and forth. Couldn't see where his beady little eyes were looking. He was so out of place. There was no one around! Go home! We walked as quickly as possible to get by him, but Jenna was courageous enough to snap this picture when his head was turned.

I apologize if that visual gives you nightmares. I have only recently recovered from the trauma. So anyway, Monday was a relaxed day filled with shopping and a show. Since Jenna, Allison, and I were now on our own, we decided it best to inaugurate our girlish adventures with some womanly activities. What better place to commence than Notting Hill? I led the way back to Ottolenghi for a scrumptious breakfast of pastries and caffeinated beverages.

Berry muffin and caffe latte to start the day off right. They even served it on a feminine, hot pink plate.

Then it was back up and down Portobello Road. I got a navy leather journal at my favorite store, Stumper & Fielding, but resisted buying the $40 decorative pillow with the bike logo on it. I also purchased a £5 map of England, which I have been wanting to do for some time now. Glad to check that off the list. Oh, and Allison found an awesome deal on a giant Cath Kidston (English Vera Bradley) travel bag. All the stores over here do mega month-long clearance sales after Christmas.

I've said it before, but it's worth saying again: Notting Hill is adorable.

And the stuff they sell there is just as adorable. Too bad I didn't have an extra 300 quid to pick up some vintage distressed suitcases. I suppose the picture will have to sustain me. Thanks to Allison for taking an awesome picture, and thanks to Aperture editing software for taking an awesome picture to the next level.

When we had sufficiently covered Portobello Road, we headed to the nearby Knightsbridge stop to visit Harrod's. I can say with complete confidence it was the most bizarrely impressive place I have ever been too. It is the only department store with its own gift shop. It is the only place I know (besides the Internet) that you could buy gourmet coffee, fresh lobster, fine jewelry, a dog, a designer handbag, and Harry Potter paraphernalia in a one-stop shopping experience. Oh, and the decor is Egyptian/Titanic themed. Complete with statues and shrines to the "innocent victims," Princess Diana and her boyfriend Dodi. Again, what the heck???

Potions and whose-its and whats-its galore.

Logically, the escalator is an ode to Egypt.

Why not have tiled ceilings in your fresh food market?

Three things. 1: Could you not have found some better pictures? 2: Who had the foresight to keep a glass Di drank out of? 3: Was the glass even necessary at all? 

My favorite part about Harrod's was that I got to buy some dog treats for Bullitt. Yorkshire pudding and roast beef flavored. And that I got to pet some puppies, including a chocolate lab. I have developed a keen radar for locating friendly dogs in public places. I miss Bullitt. After that, it was a quick stop at Liberty of London to drool at the micro-floral prints. I intended to buy some fabric scraps to make pillows, but the £45 price tag caused me to rethink that plan. Maybe Target will have expanded their Liberty line by the time we move to Houston. On the way to the Cheshire Cheese for some pub food, we made one last shopping stop at the original Twinings Tea on the Strand. Oh my! I almost forgot to mention that we met a fellow Okie at the Cheese. His name was Baxter, and he was from Jenks. He went to OU for his undergraduate and was now doing a Master's at London School of Economics. Small world! I texted Matt to tell him of the friend we made, but he said that we should watch our backs. You can't trust someone from Jenks who went to OU, especially if his name is Baxter. Wiser words were never spoken.

After dinner, we soon found a means for burning off the calories from our sticky toffee pudding and custard. Allison, Jenna, and I ran - yes, full-out ran - to make our showing of Les Misérables. Jenna used her expert forearming skills to elbow lollygaggers out of our way, and we flew up and down the escalators throughout the London Underground system. We eventually made it to the Queen's Theater, with plenty of time to spare, and took our seats in the balcony. At which point, I removed as many layers of clothing as legally possible because I was sweating so badly. I'm sure the other patrons were so pleased to have a girl that smelled like a goat joining them for that evening's performance.

The marquee. I remember when I was little that "I dreamed a dream" of being a Broadway performer. Alas...

It was a spacious theater, and our seats were great for being so cheap!

Just a heads up if you are planning on seeing this show - there is no dialogue. Every single word is sung, start to finish. And it's not a particularly happy story. But you probably could have deduced that from the title. Still, good music and talented performers made it worthwhile.

That night, we returned (rather raucously) to our hotel. There was no one out walking on our street, so we took it upon ourselves to sing some of our favorite show tunes aloud. Had Matthew been there and miraculously survived the previous two hours of singing, he probably would have lost it at this point and silenced us. Fortunately, he had been spared and thus, so had we. "Defying Gravity" and "The Phantom of the Opera" freely echoed down Great Portland Street.

The next morning was an early one as we caught our Eurostar train to Paris. An ear-popping trip through the Chunnel and just under 2 hours later, we had arrived. The second half of our journey began!  Á la prochaine. (Translation according to wordreference.com: "Until next time.") More to come tomorrow.