We Take Ourselves With Us

Today, we ventured out in our new boots (and rose print thermal tights for me!) to get as Britty as we could. We hopped the Tube to Tottenham Court Road ... for the British Museum! There, we sought to follow Tennyson's advice to wear out our feet in search of knowledge and stuff.  (Cut me some slack, I was an Early Modernist, not a Victorian.) As Penn noted, the museum is both overwhelming and awesome, which meant we had to refuel.  The big restaurant is closed for refurbishment and reimagining, leaving us with the pop-up No. 63.  It offered crazy good holiday themed turkey BLTs (with stuffing and cranberry sauce) and wickedly rich roasted tomato soup with some oregano infused oil.  And, wonderfully crusty bread.  Yay--we were ready to throw ourselves back into the depths of history. I'm a smart person and a pretty decent writer, but words are inadequate to express what it's like to share thousands of years of hi...

Another morning, another cocooned Penn.  The transformation into nonstop energy Penn begins with the emergence of one ever-growing foot :) Sunday, we set off for Stonehenge.  After an extended comedy of errors in which we insisted the coach did not have the four seats we paid for and the tour operator did.  This went back and forth for a while, which is odd, since settling it via empirical evidence (counting seats) was kind of simple.  Finally, two freeloaders were forced off the bus, and we got four scattered seats for the journey to mystical Stonehenge. But first ... sheep! Then, the sun breaks over Stonehenge.  It's historical, mysterious, and cool.  On the voyage there and back, I did a Mercury Prize two-play of Alt-J and James Blake --perfect Brit-y, trippy music for zipping back and forth in time. In the end, though, it's pretty much all there is in the middle of this field (well, outside of the sheep).  So here ar...