My Wild Friday Night
Friday 07/20/2007 8:05 PM (In the United Kingdom: Saturday 07/21/2007 1:05 AM)
So while I was in Soho, I passed this scene, which seems typical of the pubs here ... especially tonight, being Friday and all, and especially, I'm told, since London imposed a smoking ban in all enclosed public spaces this summer:
Nope, they aren't waiting for tables -- this is overflow from the pub, and they're drinking their ales on the street. Since I'm growing to dislike crowds (especially drunken ones) almost as much as my dad does, I opted out of the Standing Room Only pub experience. Instead, I stopped on my way home for a snack (prawns, evidently), an ale, a facial mask, and a chocolate bar with a label I couldn't resist:
I unpacked my goods onto my bed, took a shower, and when I came back, the sight was simultaneously comforting and disturbing. I mean, it's Friday night ... in London ... I'm kid-free ... and this is how I choose to spend it? Well, yeah -- after seven hours at the library and a five-hour walk around Bloomsbury and Soho. And a damn fine night it's been. Though, I have to admit, the Yorkie is a bit much: I think it's one of the richest chocolate bars I've ever had, and more than half of it is still uneaten -- but I refuse to believe this has anything to do with my gender.
PS: Just as I was editing the last photos I've included in these posts, I heard a roar of applause and screaming. I looked at my laptop clock and immediately knew what was happening: it was midnight and the Waterstone's (bookstore) across the street from my B&B had just opened to start selling the last Harry Potter book of the series. (It's hard not to know this when it's all over the frontpage of the papers here, and I've been spotting people dressed as wizards throughout the afternoon and evening -- and all of them were adults. Evidently, the Waterstone's in Piccadilly had over 5000 people waiting in line by midnight.) I threw on a sweater over my pajamas, and ran downstairs with my camera.
This is the crowd from across the street ... the line starts at the doors, just outside the right edge of this picture, and it ends somewhere past the end of the block off side the left side.
One of the first proud London owners of The Deathly Hallows (and family: the mom looks more excited than the kid, doesn't she?). According to the papers here, the hotline for helping kids with emotional problems and suicidal tendencies has doubled its staff in preparation for fans' reactions, since word on the street is that some key characters are gonna die.
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