Sunday in London

Sunday I got up about 9 and was out of the hotel by about 10, hitting the Starbucks again.

I caught the Tube again at Earl's court, getting off at Aldgate. I walked up from there, through the lengthy Petticoat Lane market, on the way to Spitalfields. Petticoat Lane market was hopping, and I bought a cool Indian shirt for 3 pounds. I'm wearing it now. Petticoat Lane market can be kind of tatty, but if you have a sharp eye you can find fun stuff.

Spitalfields market has been all changed around. Still good stuff to be found, but the re-arrangers have left almost NO room to maneouvre. The aisles must have been narrowed by a good couple of feet, and they took away about a third of the market space, from what I can tell. It was WAY too tight and I found myself annoyed constantly. Moms with giant strollers, slow moving people, gawkers, folks just standing. God, get OUT of the WAY and let me PASS! It used to be better...at least there was more room to move. They did upgrade the bathrooms, and moved them, which was an improvement. The food stands were still there, though rearranged. I ate my usual Indonesian plate, with the chicken satay and noodles. Yummers. Eating something helped me overcome my annoyance, and after eating I burped my way out of the market for a wander around the hood.

My intention had been to go check out the International Tattoo Convention that was happening that weekend. I definitely walked by it, but got so sidetracked with the VERY happening scene that I just never made it inside. Man, East London was buzzing for sure, and it felt like the epi-center of all that was hip. Market after market, hipsters everywhere, folks in funky glasses (at least I fit in that way) and tattooed people everywhere (Ok, so I've got those too.) That crowd was so trendy and young and hip and arty, it was almost sick making. But I enjoyed it. I found another three markets, all new, and wandered for hours just looking at stuff and people and vintage stores and wierd random shops under railroad tracks. It was very gritty and urban and cool. I also passed by some big sample sales by famous designers, such as Paul Smith. It felt like everyone there was "in the know" and I accidentally wandered right into the coolest club in town. Miraculously, no one found out I wasn't hip, and I wasn't kicked out. I ended up in Shoreditch. Found my way back to Liverpool Street staion, and went to Leicester Square, where I wanted to see the movie, The Aristocrats. (link has sound)

I bought my ticket to the movie, and it was at this wierd theatre that was on the third floor of the building. Whatever. Before the movie I had some time to kill, so went wandering around Leicester Square, where I found a movie premiere happening. The movie was "Nanny McPhee" with Emma Thompson and Colin Firth. As I was standing there (well, ok, it was about 20 minutes of standing, because I. Wanted. To. See. Mr. Darcy.) a big black car (not a limo) drove up into the cordoned off area in the square and out popped Colin! Yes, I was rather thrilled. And yes, ladies, the mere word "handsome" does not do him justice. Two things about him struck me: the brilliance of his smile and his way of walking. His smile was just gorgeous, and his walk was a cross between a swagger and a lope, very manly and strong. In fact, just like that scene in P&P when he walks across the field just before he dives into the pond? Like that. Rangey, healthy, cool way of walking. He smiled at me, I waved, he waved back. I swooned. At least, never having swooned, I think it was a swoon. I sure felt swoony, though, if that's what it feels like.

Sigh. Pitter pat pitter pat goes my heart. First thing me and the lady standing next to me did was call our mothers. We grinned like maniacs at each other while doing it. It's just a "call mom" moment. My mom's reaction? "You BITCH!" Pretty classic.

(I've posted a phone cam picture of him at the premiere, though Firth is pretty damn small in it. Why is it that I have this brand new 10x zoom camera, and when the gorgeous movie star shows up not 20 feet from me, I don't have it? I've met scads of famous folks, and never ONCE gotten a photo out of it. Am I the anti-papparrazi?)

After that I trotted over to see "The Aristocrats" which was hilarious. And filthy. And hilarious. I'll never look at Bob Saget the same way again.

After that I hopped back onto the tube at Leicester Square and got off at Russell Square, where I went to the Bloomsbury Theatre to catch Omid Djalili. I can say that it is unreservedly the best comedy show I have ever seen. (Sorry, Eddie.) This guy is brilliant, and he riffs fearlessly on every topic. He totally skewers everyone: white, black, jewish, muslim, chinese, german, french, american, canadian. Whatever, he's got you pegged. He's Iranian, so of course there were alot of terrorism jokes. THOSE were good, and sorely needed, I think. (Like the terrorist who really just wants to get his suicide over with so he can get that blowjob from one of the 72 virgins in heaven? Because even the sight of an ankle peeking out from under the burkha makes him masturbate for three days straight? Oh, you just gotta hear it done right.) He has done an HBO special, the only British comedian besides Eddie Izzard to have done so, and all I can say is try and see it, get your hands on it, whatever. He is hilarious, and very truthful too. He's been in some movies, too, many of which I have seen, so he's definitely going places, but fast.

The show was over and I was on my way to the hotel by 10:30.

The next day I caught my SAS flight home, and it ended up that one of the flight attendants is my neighbor here in Norway, and she gave me a free bottle of champagne during the flight. (A mini bottle.) What a nice surprise! I'm so glad I took the spontaneous route and took this trip. It really helped cheer me up. Sometimes a girl needs a bit of spoiling, especially when she can spoil herself however she wants. Comedy? Not an indulgence, it's therapy!