Do You Dance, Mr. Darcy? Not If I Can Help It.

So, I'm back from France, and this week has been a bit of a "catch-up" week. I've been waking up ridiculously early just to have a chance for the computer, as there are 4 computers for the 30 or so of us without laptops. I have been doing homework, and papers, and all of those things that go along with school, even when you cross an ocean to avoid them.

Wednesday's little highlight was our trip to Hampton Court, which was the palace of people like Henry VIII. I actually liked it a lot better than Versailles, oddly enough. It just seemed more real, and you saw more things. For example, did you know that they would skin a peacock, boil it whole, and then put all the skin and feathers and beak and everything back on and serve it like that? Ick. ICK!! I also had the wonderful experience of running for the train back to London and just barely stepping inside as the train starting moving. It was really kind of cool.

Side Note: The food here is way too good. There are several courses every night, including a new exciting and wonderful dessert. This does not bode well for my wardrobe.

Sooo, yesterday, I had no class because I just don't take the Thursday classes. Instead, I worked on homework and went to the British library to do some research for a religion paper. When we got home, highlights included hearing two of the guys sing a twenty minute free-verse song about spawning salmon, star wars, Brazil, and the list goes on. I couldn't stop laughing. I also went to go see Pride and Prejudice. I know that this doesn't come out until November in the U.S., but you really need to go see it. It is THAT good. I just sat there, halfway between transfixed and giddy. Mr. Darcy is fantastic. When he walks out of the mist, you will wish you were on a country walk yourself. Go camp out now for tickets. If you wait for the dollar theater, I will totally come with you. Several times, even.

I'm taking a country walk today myself, but I doubt that Mr. Darcy is going to come walking out of the mist. It's just going to be 40-odd cold, muddy Americans. Drats.