I’m sick. When I say I’m sick, I mean I’m very sick. Like, needing some serious cold medicine sick. I mentioned in my last blog entry how Henry V was wet, cold, and ran until late. Well, that came back to bite me in the morning when I woke up feeling like my head was about to pop into little mucus-y pieces. Lovely, I know. I actually had to miss class this morning, effectually turning in my first paper in a couple hours late, and only after some serious catnapping was I able to get the energy to go on the Dickens Walk through Central London. I was pretty miserable for that, too, and I’m sure my writing is suffering as much as my head right about now, so I’ll sum up the walk briefly.
Basically, we followed a map in a book about historical walks through London, and this particular walk followed a lot of the sites found in Oliver Twist. We visited the area where Oliver gets accused of stealing a man’s handkerchief, then followed the general path of the ruthless crowd as they tried to catch him. I probably would have enjoyed it a lot more if I could’ve focused on what Nick was saying, but even so, we saw some pretty things. I’d say the best was the last stop, which was a large, red brick building with architectural elements you don’t normally see in red brick, namely arches and detailed flourishes.
Obviously, I’m out of it, and though the medicine I bought at Boots is helping, it certainly isn’t enough to keep my mind on this entry, so I’m going to go be a blob in bed. Ta-ta for now, and wish me luck at feeling better! (Though, I’m just saying, it’s Friday the 13th, so luck might not be on my side tonight…)