I haven't been able to find an internet connection that's fast enough to upload photos, so youse gets an entry without 'em.

Friday I woke up feeling more or less complete, but Amber was feeling worse, so we ended up having a really low key day just wandering around. We took a tour through a really amazing church from the late 19th century. I took a lot of pictures, which I will post at some point.

Saturday was travelling, travelling. Took a train into Glasgow Prestwick airport, then took a plane to London Stansted (which is about halfway between London and Cambridge). Took a train up to Cambridge, took a bus to the B&B where I was staying.

The woman running the B&B was a proper sort which I didn't approve of at all. She had all sorts of semi-religious, inner power sort of books on her shelves, like 'The Secret' and 'Unlocking Your Inner Angel' and shit like that. I almost rather she'd've had one fuck-off big bible. At least then I'd know how to behave.

The 'continental breakfast' she served was all days old goods. When I reached for a banana to cut into my cereal, a cloud of fruit flies flew up. (I politely ignored them.)

Cambridge was so much more than I ever expected. I mean, somewhere in the back of my skull I was aware that Cambridge was an amazing place steeped in history. However, much like Hollywood, it had been described and described and described so often that it was akin to a mythical place in my head, right next to Narnia.

After breakfast I decided to walk back into town. Things are so much closer to each other here than I ever expected. When you see a 'city block' on a map in Calgary, you'll be walking a long time . A 'city block' here is barely noticeable. I'll have passed four without even realizing I crossed a street.

So I walked into Cambridge. The road I was on took me right through the main drag, through all the colleges.

HOLY CRAP.

If pomp and circumstance was masturbation, I'd have drowned.

The Fitzwilliam Museum (the only reason I went to Cambridge) did not open until noon, and I have left the B&B precisely at ten (read: fled), and since everything was so bloody close together, I hit the downtown no later than half past ten. So I just wandered.

A lot of the colleges had open doors, and for a small fee you could go in and wander around. I passed one attached to a really amazing church, and if it's one thing I cannot resist, it's seeing the lengths man will go to for an invisible man. (Plus, I like the stained glass.)

Needless to say, it was bloody well amazing. The grounds and the buildings and the chapel. The stained glass was absolutly glorious. They had some sort of saint, perhaps, tombed up in the middle of the room. You weren't supposed to take pictures, but I snuck one picture of some of the stained glass because it was so amazing.

And there were Canada geese on the grass behind the college! I said hello. They said WAAAAAAANNGHK.

Even though it was a sunday, the streets were solid with people. I do not like the press of so many people, especially when I'm unfamiliar with the area, it's hot, and I'm wearing a large backpack. Ergo, after a brief detour into a smaller college to take a look at the archetecture, I pressed on to the Fitzwilliam museum.

I ate an early lunch on the benches in front of the museum and searched in vain for an unprotected internet connection. Alas, no luck.

The Fitzwilliam Museum was bloody well fantastic. I heartily suggest it. It contained many pieces which I was familiar with, but had no idea they owned. I mainly went to see their collection of illuminated manuscripts, and was a little disappointed.

I mean, I had heard they had the second largest collection of manuscripts outside the Vatican. The Vatican musn't have many, or the museum just didn't display much of their collection. I suppose it is rather a specialized interest, but still, there was only ten, at the most. They were still beautiful.

They also had an enormous collection of 17th and 18th century china and silver, a really extensive collection of Chinese and Japanese pottery, and an impressive collection of rennaissance paintings (lots of French and Italian). They had a whole room of Victorian portraits, and I gotta say, I just love the style of Victorian portraits. I wish I could paint that realistically.

Anyway. After the museum I hopped a train down to London, staggered around lost for a while, and found my hostel. Everything went pretty smoothly.

It's very hot in my room, though, and there's a Greek (maybe?) guy on the bunk below and across from me who must think there's no one else in the room, because he turned on the light at midnight last night to make his bed, and talked to himself the whole time. Then this morning, woke up at the crack of dawn and started applying spray-deoderant.

Bleagh.

Anyway, it's stifflingly hot in my room. Getting to sleep was no biggy, as I just wetted my towel and laid it on my back, but this morning it was dry and I was hot and the garbage truck and self-talking-Greek-guy woke me up.

Ergo, I am awake at hell-o-clock, and gonna go out where it's cool.

Rock on, peeps. Today is my first full day in London.