Today has been a veritable roller-coaster of emotions. I woke early this morning in Madrid, to 22C temperatures (before 8am - I mean, really.) and I've decided Spain is beautiful before the sun fully rises. I only got to stay with Yoann until 9am, because I had to catch the metro to get back to the airport, which is a shame, because I really enjoyed his company. We spent the morning listening to French music, and I listened to him sing (poorly, but it was cute), and we talked about cycling (again) and I may have gotten a little lecture on learning how to swim...I swear I will one day! I gave him a little gift of maple syrup, and I think he really appreciated it - and we parted ways like true Frenchmen, a kiss on each cheek.
My metro ride was incident free, but I was running a tad late, and by the time I got to the airport (and found a god-damned postbox) I was very, VERY late for my flight. I made it through security with 1 minute to spare until the plane left, and that left me feeling rather queasy. I made it to my departure gate, only for the plane to be delayed by a half an hour - and frankly, thank who you will. If the universe was listening to my stress, awesome. If it was coincidence, that's great too.
I spoke to a brilliant Australian couple while I was waiting in line, though the husband first thought I was German, quickly followed by French-Canadian when I corrected him. On the plane, the flight attendant thought I was Spanish. It was an interesting morning of not being Canadian in the slightest. Like I've done quite often in recent days, I crashed hard on the plane. I haven't felt tired in the slightest, but the second I sit down, I pass out. It's an interesting way of sleeping.
I got into London Gatwick, and immediately searched out a Cornwall Pasty Co. and satisfied a year and a half craving in the making. My god, I love pasties.
Finally feeling relaxed, I took the train into London Victoria to meet up with Steve. After some confusion, we met up a wee bit late, but all was well in the end. Which brings me to my next point - the curry place we ate at had TWO LEVELS. Like, Tarzan-style. It was bizarre. The best part of my day CLEARLY follows though.
We saw Much Ado About Nothing, starring David Tennant (Yes, THE David Tennant) and Catherine Tate, and several other amazingly, stellar, brilliant, awesome actors, and it was probably the best performed theatre production I've ever witnessed. Much Ado About Nothing is a Shakespearean comedy (as opposed to all his tradgedies that I love so much) and it while they stayed true to the original script, it was set in 1980s...somewhere. David Tennant (aka Señor Benedict) actually cross-dressed at one point. I was in love with the whole performance.
I purchased the programme (look at me, being all English with my bloke, and my programme, and my wee) and the script, and after the production, we waited out back to get autographs. I got my script signed by Catherine, and unfortunately, missed out on getting David's. I was extremely upset about it, and I very nearly cried. My hands were shaking I was so upset - and it's retarded. David Tennant, surname MacDonald in actuality, is just another bloke. Just a man, with a job, and likes, and dislikes, and a family like anyone else. And so I felt completely stupid with myself about being so upset, but I was so upset, because I actually let myself be EXCITED by the prospect of meeting my favourite celebrity. But regardless - I got to stand two feet away from him, and I saw him perform on stage, and really, I don't think I could ask for anything else. It would be presumptious to do so.
As a bit of a soul-healer, though I got given the gift a few hours prior to the play - Steve did something very, very special for me. He wrote a letter to David saying I was coming all the way from Canada to see him in his play, and David sent me a Doctor Who postcard signed with his name, and addressed specifically to me. I almost cried when I opened that, too...followed by ten minutes of opening and closing my mouth. So I guess in the end, I DO have his autograph.
But either way, I was upset, and I needed to calm down, and there are really only two things that help me in that situation: alcohol, and walking along a river. Seeing how we were mere blocks from the Thames (it's pronounced TEMS, you silly Canadians) - we walked along the Thames and I snapped photos of the London Eye at night, and it was beautiful. Steve and I had a rather personal talk, which is not subject for the likes of a public blog, and my night did not end as well as it could - I left him later at the Tube station to go back to the hostel, and needless to say, I was feeling rather down.
I also got lost coming back to my hostel, thanks to staying out later than the Tube runs. Yeah - lost in London at 1am. It wasn't fun. But I've clearly made it back, and I'm going to go shower and go to bed, as it is 2am, and I have to travel to France tomorrow. I love England, and I love London, and I don't particularly want to leave - but there are other countries out there, and I need to stop spending all my time in this one, small, beautiful country.
And to think, I had almost convinced myself I didn't need to live here. I was wrong.
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