Hi Friends,

In an unsurprising sequence of events, the weekend passed much too quickly and the school week is in full swing. I'll fill you all in on my weekend while I wait for my next class to start. Wednesday was Sportsnite (Yes, I am starting with Wednesday because that is technically when my weekend starts due to the fact that I don't have class on Thursdays or Fridays. Be jealous.). Anyways, it was a really good time. The school pub was packed, and at one point the entire crowd broke out singing the unofficial, hilariously English and wildly inappropriate fight song (that Lizzie and I are perfectly willing to perform on demand). Everyone then made the trek to the club, which was one big dance party. On Thursday, I met up with some classmates to work on a group project, and that was pretty much the only productive thing I did all day. Well, productive is a relative term. I also caught up on Nashville, which is a feat that some might consider productive (Me being one of those people). That night, Lizzie, a few other friends and I went to Proud, an old horse hospital and stable that was converted into a club. This place was awesome. All of the stables were converted into individual drinking stalls, and the particular stall that we hijacked had both a "dancing" pole and karaoke station. The songs weren't that up-to-date, which was not a problem for us. We jammed to the classics, Sk8r Boi and Mr. Brightside, and the karaoke machine was pretty pointless because we all knew the words by heart.

Ailee, Alexa, Me, and Rachel outside Proud

Friday was a lazy day, and that night Lizzie and I made dinner in our flat kitchen. Well, Lizzie made the dinner. I supervised. Friday and Saturday were two more club nights, but in my opinion not as fun as Proud.

On Saturday during the day, though, we went to the Borough Market. It was a huge maze of stalls with every type of food you could dream of, from Thai to Italian to Exotic Meat (they were literally selling llama and camel burgers). Lizzie settled on pasta, and I had a grilled cheese. Actually, calling it just a grilled cheese is not fair to the perfection that was this sandwich. The stall melted a block of cheese under long metal strips spouting flames, and then scraped the melted cheese onto the toasted bread. It was poetry in food form. Nirvana. Ecstasy. 

The Ultimate Grilled Cheese

That's all for now. Wish me luck, I'm heading into an oral presentation on the theoretical perspective behind the British political system! (Hint: there's not a lot in there about baby George)