Sure, I'll have a vodka... at my desk...

On my way to work yesterday (leaving from the Gloucester Road station, above), I noticed something in the Underground that I hadn't before. You know the people who play music is subway stations? Well, London has this, of course, but I think it might be organized by the government. They're all about making the Underground nice, and it is: it's definitely the cleanest one I've ever been in, and they have digital signs telling you when the next train is coming and "art" mixed in with the ads on the walls. But this is what I just noticed about the musicians: they all perform on these little semi-circles on the floor, against a wall, that say something like "Sounds of the Underground" (I'm not sure exactly what it says, but it's along those lines). So, I'm thinking that they have to not only get a permit to play there, but they might have to even sign up on a schedule for a day and time and space. This is kind of funny, and it's nice that it's so organized and all that, but isn't half the point of the subway musician that it's a sort of unorganized, bohemian mess? Isn't that it's charm? No? Maybe I'm crazy. Anyway, this is another one of those funny signs I love on the Tube:

I don't really listen to the music, anyway, because I have my iPod on. I really wish my iPod stayed charged long enough to have it on all day at work, too, because they play music in my office that makes me want to jump out the window. First of all, a lot of it is garbage. On Thursday I head the following lyrics: "a e i o u and sometimes yyyyyy." Really? Like, that's a song? The poeple who wrote that should hang themselves. It's really hard to work because of the music, because it's either really loud (and how am I supposed to write when they're blasting this stuff from the speakers?) or the song makes me want to pull a Van Gogh so I won't have to hear anymore. Like, a lot of it is so bad that my head actually hurts. And I can't escape it.

There was a funny incident on Thursday, however. One of the girls who works there called over to me, asking me a question. This was pretty much our conversation:

Her: Do you want some vodka?

Me: what?

Her: Do you want a vodka?

Me: Vodka?

Her: Yeah, vodka. We're all having some.

Me: [pause] OK.

I'm thinking this was the special Easter editon of Beer O'Clock. I just had to make sure that's what she was saying, because it would have been pretty awkward if I had said "Yeah, I'll have a vodka," and she had been asking me to help her move a box.

After work, I walked down Oxford Street (where there is a lot of shopping and, consequently, always a huge, pushy crowd) to go to a store called Primark, which is supposed to be good discount shopping. I head it's a zoo there, especially on weekends, but I only wish I'd taken the warnings more seriously: the word "zoo" actually describes the place perfectly. The people were obnoxious and the clothes weren't even that cute, and I spent about a half hour on line for the the fitting room, where the attendants were rude to me. Never going back there again. Ever. On the upside, I got a cute pair of sandals for £2, a dress for £11, and a necklace for £1.5. I'm still deciding if the peek into what hell must surely be like was worth it, though.

Finally, since I'm about to leave in two weeks (oh no, the sniffles are coming...), I'm trying to get some pictures of day-to-day stuff in London that I haven't captured yet. These are pictures of the outside of my dorm (the Crofton) and the street I live on (Queens Gate).