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Muahahahaha! Muahahahaha!
Sorry, I can't tell you what that's about yet, because I'll feel like a heel.
It's a rare sensation; let me enjoy it.
Am getting excited for England - big shock, right? I feel much better knowing that I have some places to stay. I mean, not that I didn't know that, but it was starting to feel like everyone's schedule was too wacky to cope with and I would be left flailing somewhere in the centre of Stratford, which is the Second Worst Town In The World.
The Worst Town In The World, of course, is Bath. I hate Bath with a passion normally reserved for neo-cons.
The thing is, I've got a really good sense of direction. Like, amazing. I once found my way back to a restaurant in Inverness after having driven twenty more minutes in a car - and it was not a case of "We turned right here, so turn left..." It was a case of "It's THAT WAY!"
I can feel when I'm going southwards. It's...heavier than going north.
So, anyway, sense of direction, lalalala. In Bath (I suspect it's something in the water from the hot springs) YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF DIRECTION. My father and I got into a vicious argument over where the car was parked - when we'd left it less than five minutes before - and I had forgotten a turn we'd taken. He went back to the car - and got lost THREE TIMES.
Bear in mind, I get my sense of direction from him.
The minute you are on the hills outside of Bath, directional sense returns. But while in that valley, I am not kidding, it's like being suddenly blinded and dressed up like a clown. You can't rely on one of your senses, one that you've relied on nearly all your life.
If you've ever read Small Gods, that bit where Brutha's on the ship and gets seasick and confused at the same time because he's not on land, so he's moving but his eidetic memory can't tell where because he's not on land? It's like that.
I have been to Bath twice - and the first time we had the snarkiest drunk!tour guide ever, who I thought was great and my mother hated - and I will never go back. If someone said "Either you go to Bath or Alan Rickman gets it!" we'd all have to learn to live with disappointment that there will never be another Alan Rickman movie ever. Because omg it's not a nice enough town to make up for being consistently lost in.
My mother, who also has a sense of direction but not as refined as my father's and mine, was amused by the fact that we would not consider a bed and breakfast where we couldn't tell what direction we were facing. Also we went to a pub after finding a b&b that met our exacting standards ("North is...THAT WAY!") and had more drinks than we've ever considered having in each other's company before. It was like the end of a war or something.
So I'm glad that I will not be flailing, lost, in Stratford. Bath is totally out of the question. If I thought I'd wind up there, I'd cancel the ticket.
Sorry, I can't tell you what that's about yet, because I'll feel like a heel.
It's a rare sensation; let me enjoy it.
Am getting excited for England - big shock, right? I feel much better knowing that I have some places to stay. I mean, not that I didn't know that, but it was starting to feel like everyone's schedule was too wacky to cope with and I would be left flailing somewhere in the centre of Stratford, which is the Second Worst Town In The World.
The Worst Town In The World, of course, is Bath. I hate Bath with a passion normally reserved for neo-cons.
The thing is, I've got a really good sense of direction. Like, amazing. I once found my way back to a restaurant in Inverness after having driven twenty more minutes in a car - and it was not a case of "We turned right here, so turn left..." It was a case of "It's THAT WAY!"
I can feel when I'm going southwards. It's...heavier than going north.
So, anyway, sense of direction, lalalala. In Bath (I suspect it's something in the water from the hot springs) YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF DIRECTION. My father and I got into a vicious argument over where the car was parked - when we'd left it less than five minutes before - and I had forgotten a turn we'd taken. He went back to the car - and got lost THREE TIMES.
Bear in mind, I get my sense of direction from him.
The minute you are on the hills outside of Bath, directional sense returns. But while in that valley, I am not kidding, it's like being suddenly blinded and dressed up like a clown. You can't rely on one of your senses, one that you've relied on nearly all your life.
If you've ever read Small Gods, that bit where Brutha's on the ship and gets seasick and confused at the same time because he's not on land, so he's moving but his eidetic memory can't tell where because he's not on land? It's like that.
I have been to Bath twice - and the first time we had the snarkiest drunk!tour guide ever, who I thought was great and my mother hated - and I will never go back. If someone said "Either you go to Bath or Alan Rickman gets it!" we'd all have to learn to live with disappointment that there will never be another Alan Rickman movie ever. Because omg it's not a nice enough town to make up for being consistently lost in.
My mother, who also has a sense of direction but not as refined as my father's and mine, was amused by the fact that we would not consider a bed and breakfast where we couldn't tell what direction we were facing. Also we went to a pub after finding a b&b that met our exacting standards ("North is...THAT WAY!") and had more drinks than we've ever considered having in each other's company before. It was like the end of a war or something.
So I'm glad that I will not be flailing, lost, in Stratford. Bath is totally out of the question. If I thought I'd wind up there, I'd cancel the ticket.
