Rode the cable car from the city center in the rain to the Botanical Gardens overlooking the city. At full size, you can see that big red church off in the distance:
Walked 40 minutes the wrong way, happening upon the birthplace of Katherine Mansfield.
I knew better than to go in, but I did anyway-- she moved away as a child and none of the shit in there is remotely connected to her, but I did watch a boring documentary that at least informed me how highly regarded she was by Virginia Woolf, T.S. Eliot, and D.H. Lawrence. That's good enough for me, so I dropped by a bookstore and bought a collection containing every story she ever wrote, plus unfinished ones and her letters. Found the city again and hit up Parliament for a top-notch, one-hour tour before retiring to the hostel for a 2-hour nap of justice.
the "beehive"Ham sandwiches for meals today-- crackers; tim-tams; cursed sobriety.
Drink Count: 0
1 comment:
Speaking of writers, I had a book by a Cambridge writer recommended to me that I think you'll love. Remind me when you get back to the States.
Post a Comment