Wednesday randoms.

More happenings and observations for you!

The whole floor numbering system in the UK is different than in the US. Here, when something is located on the first floor, they don't mean the first floor. They mean the second floor. Because, here, the actual first floor is called the ground floor. This is particularly unsettling when you're faced with a stairway. At home, if I need to get to the second floor, I climb up one flight of stairs. Here, I've got to climb up a bonus one too. Yay for cardio, I suppose.

We spent St. Patrick's Day in a pub in Twickenham, watching rugby, and I learned a very important lesson: I don't know anything about rugby. Which was really frustrating, because I'm used to being the only, or at least one of very few girls who actually knows what's going on at sporting events. But not this time. Not even close. 

It's March Madness -- one of my favorite times of the year. Unfortunately, there's a 6 hour time difference between home and here, so the games don't start till like 11pm. And now that I've found a shady website that streams most of them (I tried to pay for the CBS service, but no...), I start watching about the time I should be going to bed, and before I know it, I'm up at 4am watching Kansas beat Detroit. Did I mention I still have classes to attend? Madness, indeed.

I mailed my first letters home! I sent my mom and Kim their birthday cards on Friday. I was told it'd take 5-6 business days, so I was expecting them to arrive around Thursday. But no! My mom got hers on Monday! Which was such a relief, as that was her actual birthday. Thanks, Royal Mail.

Honey Loops are not as good as Honey Nut Cherrios. Sorry, England.

I've mentioned that queuing is all the rage here. But it also can incite rage. I went to the bank the other day to exchange some dollars. At my bank, the tellers are all in a row, with the travel services window at the far left. There was a queue when I walked in, but I didn't need a teller. I needed the travel services window, which had just become available. So I walked right up. And then I got yelled at. "EXCUSE ME. THERE'S A QUEUE HERE," shouted a very large, imposing man from the middle of the line. Now, there's something you should know about me. I hate conflict. I hate being the center of attention. My heart freaks out when people stare at me. And people were staring. I felt like an idiot. I looked up, startled, and pointed to the sign above the teller. "Travel services," I said in my foreign accent. "I need to exchange some currency." He went red, mumbled an apology, and turned away, embarrassed. Now, he was the idiot. So that situation ended up being both panic-inducing, and extremely gratifying.

And now, back to being studious. These essays won't write themselves...unfortunately.