Shallow Pockets Brimming with (Thankfully) Absent Smoke Alarms

Caitlin, Courtney and I made it home to Oxford around 3:30am Monday morning... I was fresh for my 8am class, let me tell you. We spent a lovely couple of hours in Gatwick's Burger King while waiting for our taxi and a Whopper has never, ever tasted so good.

After another week of classes everyone around Oxford jetted off to various destinations and my skimpy pockets decided to bring me to an hour-long train ride back to bustling London. Stephen, the birthday boy from the group of Englishmen we met in Amsterdam, was kind enough to let me stay at his flat and show me around for the weekend. I was only there for two nights so I didn't do too much exploring but I did discover my very favorite part of London: Camden Town.

Camden is shopping. Open markets and food vendors galore. It's full of young, Bohemian energy and fashion and it reminded me of a much, MUCH more interesting Little 5 Points. And much larger. I think I spent the majority of both days wandering around Camden. Unfortunately I do not have many photographs... I left my camera battery in its charger in Oxford so I was THAT tourist with the disposable camera. It was mildly embarrassing and I tried very hard not to pull it out too often.









I couldn't help but fall under the Boho spell... I got a dred in Camden. Love.

Since Stephen (and his 4 flatmates) were nice enough to accommodate me invading their space I cooked a big Southern dinner for them. Fried tomatoes with creamy bacon sauce (they don't sell green ones at Tesco), country fried steak and sausage gravy, twice baked mac and cheese casserole, and salad... gotta have something healthy. And then apple crumb pie for dessert.
While I was cooking I sent the boys to grab some vanilla ice cream for the pie and that's when all hell broke loose. They came back not 5 minutes later to a flat full of smoke and a frazzled me trying to save each various food item. Luckily older London flats don't have smoke detectors so I didn't cause the entire complex to vacate the premises as would have happened in my little kitchen and, very luckily, the food was saved. The grease was not... Nor was the glass stein I tried to cool it in...

Stephen also decided to cook for me... a traditional English breakfast! I tried black pudding... aka fried, curdled pigs blood. Gross. It tasted like a hush puppy... not a fan. But the rest of it was delicious. And I got a big kick out of their orange juice. Instead of 'pulp' the Brits call it 'bits'! OJ with bits- how quaint!


I find Europe in general quaint... and such a welcome change from America.