I wrote this instead of folding my laundry.

Imagine you're a Purdue fan. (Use your imagination.) It's the first football game of the season. You're in London at Sportscafe, the only venue that will air American sports. You're sitting with your friends, enjoying a beer and the highly caloric "American Platter" and waiting for the kick-off.

And then, the unthinkable occurs.

100 Notre Dame students, those brats from the enemy school on the screen in front of you, storm the room. They yell, they cheer, they wear a sickening shade of green. What hell is this? What have you done to earn such scorn from above? Things are looking bad; you are losing; you have lost. You are a good sport, though, so you avoid confrontation and proceed to dance with the victors to strange European techno music.

Saturday night passed in a flurry of loud camaraderie and ended in a lot of really bad (but fun) dancing. Now to backtrack. On Friday, two of my flatmates and I went on a scavenger hunt around London to find places where the Harry Potter movies were filmed. We went to Platform 9 3/4, the Australian Embassy (aka Gringotts) and a couple of pubs that served as the Leaky Cauldron. Along the way, we found some very cool diversions. Southwark Cathedral, built in the 1200s, is a beautiful old church near the Tower Bridge. Borough Street Market is filled with bright colors, delicious aromas, and interesting people. Oh, and I should mention that we took pictures of ourselves at each location, complete with Potter glasses and scarf. We may have embarrassed ourselves, but we made the pub patrons laugh.

Saturday I went on a tour of Stonehenge and Bath. It ended up being a lot of time on the bus and not enough time exploring, but it was still interesting. Stonehenge just kind of pops up off the highway, almost like one of those cheesy roadside attractions you always see billboards for. Except instead of the World's Largest Ball of String, it's the World's Oldest Mystery Rock Pile. That sounds cynical--it actually was interesting, but three hours hurtling down narrow country roads with a manic bus driver kind of weakened my enthusiasm for the whole thing. Bath, however, was beautiful; I've been there once before with my family, and its Georgian architecture and small-town charm were just as lovely as ever.

So for the past couple of days, I have been practicing cello in the flat. I hope my roommates don't mind the noise; my family has learned to tune it out over the years, but I'm sure it's a bit trying if you're trying to study physiology and the crazy girl in the next room as screeching out the end of the Lalo concerto. They're too nice to say if it's actually bothering them, though. I'll hopefully set up lessons this week and find a more permanent place/time to practice. This week should also start my internship in Parliament; I can't wait.

Now, it's past midnight and there's a group of kids gathered around the kitchen table trying to plan weekend trips and fall break. I need to go get my laundry, but the five flights of stairs between myself and warm towels are making me stall. However, my bed is calling and I must gather my things and oblige. My next post will be less scattered, I hope. For now, good night.