I'm amazed that I function in society at all

Today I rode on the top floor of a double-decker bus for the first time. What's more amazing is that I did it all by myself and managed to get off at the correct stop; I had only ridden a city bus here once, and that was in a haze of post-Eddie giddiness. For some reason I can't handle above-ground public transportation, here or in Boston. Bus maps terrify me. They even call them spider maps on the tube website; way to make them even scarier! But no, I figured out which bus I needed to get on, I found a bus stop at which this bus stops, and I knew where to get off. Sitting on the top floor also means that you have to hoof it downstairs before the bus actually stops so you can get off in time, and it is no easy feat to walk down stairs while the stairs are moving. I'm happy to report that I did not fall on my face (though that might have made for a more interesting post).

The entire reason I took a bus was to pick up my ticket to the performance of Paul McCartney's new classical album, Ecce Cor Meum at the one and only ROYAL ALBERT HALL! Seeing a performance in this building is another pilgrimage for me since it's mentioned in "A Day in the Life" and is the venue where the Concert for George took place. Yes, I'm a Beatles fan of pathetic epic proportions, and although I haven't been to Abbey Road yet, I do have a white jacket to wear if I want to pretend to be John. And don't think I didn't spot a poster for this bad boy.

Anyway, this could be my big opportunity to actually meet Paul. They say he is not performing but perhaps he will be there anyway, and dateless at that! Despite my seat in the nosebleed section, there is always the hope that I will run into in the foyer or, more likely, spot him sitting in the front row and rush down to casually mosey up to him as everyone is filing out. Besides, this is a classical concert, so the hordes of crazy fans will be sophisticated and won't mob him before I do.

I got my hair cut yesterday, despite my best efforts to hold off until I returned to a country in which I can count on the presence of a Sears Hair Studio. I'm pleased with the results (as well I should, for £31 aka SIXTY-TWO GEORGE WASHINGTONS) but man, it was looking bleak for a while. I asked for something that would accentuate the waves in my hair, rather than just my standard few layers. The stylist asked if I ever scrunched my hair, and I said no, and then after she cut it she blow-dried it with a diffuser with my head between my legs WHILE SCRUNCHING. Anyone who knows me also knows that with this fabulous package comes a head of hair that could possibly rival the total amount of hair on Robin Williams' body plus a couple of yetis. Needless to say, the result approximately resembled what Hermione Granger's hair woud look like, if she was a real person and if she stuck her finger into an electrical socket first. Calmly, politely (despite the panic mode setting in), I requested the style be somewhat less enormous, and it turned out fine. I think she just wanted to freak me out. Those crazy Brits and their crazy sense of humor.

posted by limeywannabe @ 10:06 PM