London, Part 3

So, the number one question I’ve been asked since returning from London is whether or not I was hanging out with octogenarians, as I had suggested I might be. Because the tour was sponsored by the Utah Shakespearean Festival, I (and all my friends and family) thought it likely that the tour participants would be the elderly patrons who give tons of money to the Festival and think they’re best friends with Fred Adams.

At the beginning of the trip, it looked like all of my stereotypical theater tour dreams were going to come true. I was sitting in the airport in jeans, listening to my MP3 player, when I heard the distinct tapping of high heeled shoes. I looked up to see two very elderly people carrying Break-Away Tour bags. The wife was wearing pearls and a skirt and high heels. I later met them and discovered that they're in their 80s. They were by far the oldest members of our tour, though.

Two people on the tour were younger than I am, my roommate had just turned 65 (and I liked her very much--she told me that I made a very nice 2nd choice for roommate, if she couldn't room with Michael Sharon; he is, apparently, the imaginary boyfriend of many generations of women), there were a number of single women who ranged in age from 40s-60s, and there were a lot of couples in their 40s or 50s.

I mostly hung out with the single women, because single women are rock stars. I particularly liked this group of women because

a) They were terribly nice to me. The older ones, to use their term, mother henned me and made sure I was never alone if I didn't want to be, V, Fruit Fly Expert and Better Picture Taker than Me, gave me fortune cookies when I didn't feel well, and the others were all just generally lovely to me.

b) None of them ever asked me if I was dating someone. It's a weird thing to ask a stranger, but I get asked if I'm married or seeing someone ALL. THE. TIME. where I live. Someone should only be asking me about that, if his next statement to me is, "Because I'd really like to fly to Greece with you and build you a palace made of jewels."

c) One morning at breakfast, two of the women were asking me for book recommendations and when I asked, "Are you familiar with the StoryCorps Project?" (because I LOVE the new StoryCorps project book, Listening is an Act of Love), they said yes.

V took these pictures of me and sent them to me this week. See? Wasn't that nice of her?

I'm standing near a back entrance to Westminster Abbey.

This is in the garden behind John Hall's house in Stratford. (John Hall was Susanna Shakespeare's husband.) I don't know what I'm hugging. It looks like it might be a statue referencing "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

That's Alice's hat. I stole it from her at a party a few weeks ago when my hair was looking very bad. I wore it all over London, because I didn't take my flat iron with me, so my hair was curly every day. Sometimes my curly, au naturelle hair is fine and sometimes it makes me look like I live in a van down by the river.