The Ravings of Demented Rabbits

"Dude, Where's My Bus?"

No, really, I'm still here. Just...late, is all. Busy week.

Hey Pete, said where you gonna go?
I'll take that Westbus, take it down
to Brighton Beach, Brighton Beach...

Yeah. We all did Brighton today, which does in fact have a beach, even if it isn't the one Type O sang about. Among other things, it's one of those places where it's good to be king, since George IV built a very...lavish palace there once upon a time. It's decorated in fine Chinese and Indian style, and is perhaps even more spectacular than Hampton Court.

For everyone else, there's the pier, which was apparently the place to go to have fun in like, 1906, and still looks it. Nowdays it's sort of a ghetto Benton County Fair, which if you've seen said fair is really saying something.

Brighton having been seen, we then drove to a place called Seaford to go walk along the white chalk cliffs, then go drink at a pub, which according to our leader, Carol, was "Just around the corner." Apparently "just around the corner" these days means on order of five miles up and down the forementioned cliffs. In other words we needed the drink at the end because we were all exhausted and very very warm, it being nice out. The whole experience reminded me of my Hadrian's Wall adventures, in a The Empire Thought About Striking Back But Only Sent Three Stormtroopers and Darth Maul, Who Really Could Have Been Better, Sort of Like the Prequels as a Whole sort of way, since the hills weren't as big and we weren't IN the sheep pastures.

Too, there were no transportation worries to cause that sense of impending enraged postal workerness, but since this story wouldn't be complete otherwise, when we got outside, the bus sort of wasn't there. So we set off towards Seaford to find it. Or, half of us did, and the other half just watched us go. Walking into Seaford a few miles later we decided that, no, the bus wasn't here, so we walked all the way back, plus another mile to where the bus really was, during which time things were discussed such as "those others sure are right bastards for not calling. We hate them. A lot." Said right bastards of course wouldn't admit to being right bastards, and tried to blame us, but since we got to the bus it was all good. And then we went home. And that was good too.

And while we're at it, let's talk about the rest of the week.

Wednesday, we took a trip to Lord's Cricket Ground. This was, as you might expect, one of those typically English things, complete with a couple of tea gardens, bars, and a fairly out of place "real" tennis court, which is a very bizzare sort of game that you pretty much have to be a holdover from the 1200s when they played it at this random monastary in France. Just one of those things. We got a tour of the whole place, plus got to go into the stands and watch for a bit, plus got to go into the media box and watch a bit. So it wasn't bad. Some guy even broke a hundred runs while we were there, which while it isn't huge by cricket standards, is sort of cool nevertheless.

Tuesday, we went to Romeo and Juliet. At the Globe. And there was period costumes all over. And period music. And bagpipes. And period dancing. And the Globe is all painted really nicely, complete with wooden pillars painted convincingly to look like marble. *swoon*

Thursday, we had the obligatory karaoke night. Dustin, dressed up totally hick complete with the belt buckle, which is slightly amusing since he's a computer geek in normal life, did the whole Garth Brooks Friends In Low Places thing, whereupon we all got drunk. Or they all got drunk and I watched. Alden, fresh from post-victory celebrations after beating Dr. Garfinkle at tennis, which apparently involved a pint of rum, got so drunk he couldn't move, and everyone else got just drunk enough to do a group rendition of YMCA. With the dance. And the Navy guys that hang out with us are very very good at that part of it. And then everyone got more drunk, and listened to the same English people do the same songs they do each and every time we're there, and life was good, except when that one guy sang whatever song it was he was trying to sing. That was not so good.

Posted by Dwip at June 4, 2004 3:47 AM