serinde

Another night of not sleeping so well; no obvious cause, though I suspect "internal screaming intensifies" might be part of it... We were awake before seven, which was tidy since we had given the hotel people 8am as our desired breakfast time. The food was reasonable, though paled in comparison with our nosebag in York. Got our act together and walked over to the British Museum at opening time.

My main goal there was the "Silk Roads" exhibition, which was excellent, and I enjoyed it a lot. Obviously, this being The British Museum™, there is a certain amount of awkwardness about how they got some of these objects (I'm looking at you, Aurel Stein), but still, it was very well put-together and was stressing - or more accurately, patiently explaining to Eurocentric white people - the rich and textured exchange of goods, ideas, and beliefs across half the planet for over a thousand years. It is quite deliberate that the first object, by itself in the entry hall, is a tiny Buddha statue made in modern Pakistan and found in Sweden.

Well, I spent a lot of time there, and my foot hadn't recovered from yesterday's exertions, so I was happy to limp over to the cafe in the Great Court for a cup of tea and a piece of "Christmas Slice" (this is like a bar cookie to us; pastry base with, in this case, a mince-pie-filling-ish layer on top). We then wandered through the upstairs eventually getting to the medieval bits, and I said hi to a few old friends like the big hack-silver pile, but I wasn't up to a lot more. At length we went over to Southampton Row and found a pub for lunch, splitting a perfectly fine steak & ale pie washed down with Old Peculier.

From there we walked down to Somerset House (which is in the middle of being set up for the holiday season with a skating rink and market and all that) and over Waterloo Bridge, taking photos on route, ending up at the British Film Institute (BFI). We had a glass of wine and rested our aching feets in their cafe, and though tempted by the 6pm showing of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", instead took a bus back across the river to Seven Dials to

drum roll

THE PLACE WITH THE CHEESE CONVEYOR BELT

This is in a large, extremely hip food hall inside a former warehouse (and for all the extreme hipness, a lot of the places in there looked like they'd be worth investigating). We have eaten much cheese and had a bit of wine and then we staggered home, because alas most of our points of travel are in orientations where it's just as fast to walk as to take p*bl*c tr*ns*t. I am sitting and typing this with a random program about the Gunpowder Plot on the telly waiting to see if I am going to explode.

Hotel room does not have a bathtub so I cannot soak my feet. Contemplating just riding a bus around all day tomorrow.