if sheep could fly

I know I've said before how busy I am, but this week hit an all time high. Thursday was the big night at my internship. I've been working on planning the after-party event for the London premiere of the Philip Glass opera, Satyagraha. Thursday night was the big night when everything had to work and had to come together for the show. Luckily, it did for the most part. The party was wonderful, all those 'famous' London guests who needed tickets, got them. And Philip Glass stepped on my foot. It's my new claim to fame, really. I was horrendously stressed out before hand, as I always get before some big thing, but it all went really well and I actually had a really great time at the event. My hired car took me home at 1:15 am.

My parents are visiting, so Friday morning at 8:50 (yes, this is after my 1:15 am arrival to my bed) I caught a train to Warwick to meet my parents and our friends for a day at the castle there. More a theme park than a heritage sight, it was still very fun. We saw them launch the trebuchet. Which, for the lack of a better phrase, was pretty freakin' sweet. This started the discussion of the fact that in 'ye olde' (pronounced with the hard 'e' at the end...) times they would launch other things, not just 15 kilo balls. Like sheep, and pigs (according to our friend Sandra, they're more aerodynamic...) and people. And my brother's personal favorite, lime pitch. They would launch a basket of lime and the basket would empty out on its way down. The lime would then dust out over the castle walls. As soon as it hit any body part that had any sort of wetness, it would start burning. Gruesome. The funny thing was that the 'squire,' who was explaining everything, didn't spare any details. He was just as gory and graphic. It was amusing because that would never happen in America. We like to sugar coat death and destruction.

It was a fabulous weekend filled with driving around looking at thatched roofs, beautiful yellow fields of rape (That really is the name...) and lots and lots of sheep. I wanted to take a little white lamb with a black face home, but no one would let me put it in the car. They're adorable. And the sound they make is just so funny. My parents found a little stuffed animal sheep in Scotland. I'll have to settle for that, I suppose.

Everyone always says that London is the antithesis of Great Britian. It is everything that the rest of the country is not. After traveling around a good part of the country in the last few days, I can truly understand that now. England is full of farms, fields, pubs and quiet villages. I could spend a lifetime traveling around the interior of this country and never even scratch the surface. The beauty is a different sort, it's calm and slow. It doesn't take itself or anyone else too seriously. It is what it is, and that's it.

As the number of weeks I have here dwindle to the single digits, I find myself just trying to soak everything up. I walk down the street and I become more alert - listening, watching, trying to see everything and anything that I can put to memory and hold on to. The days are fleeting and time just keeps flying by. I want to just stop and stay forever, but I know that if I could, my fleeting time here would not seem so precious.

And so, I carry on, taking digital photos and mental ones. But so many times I just sit and try to absorb the city around me; to remember how I felt at the moment and to try to recreate it over and over again to secure its place in my mind until I find myself back here someday, ready to create more memories.