Being a Gerber by blood has implanted this cruel and ridiculous love for Wheel of Fortune. I think the greatest joy my Great Grandfather got out of his day at 98-years old, was the 6:30pm airing of Wheel of Fortune (followed by bedtime, of course). Here I am, three months into living in the UK and three months without Wheel of Fortune, that I happen to find a very outdated and very British version of the show. So from Nicky, the host, to his “glamorous assistant” Ms. Smillie in 80’s taffeta, to the retro set, I’m sitting here laughing my trousers off (that translation makes me wonder if the phrase is actually British English to begin with…). Not only is this whole thing a bit dodgy, but Nicky asks trivia questions to the contestants before each spin of the wheel. Imagine questions like “Olivia, do you eat or spend pumpernickel?” Yeah. I know.
I spent a lot of time doing an illustration project and preparing for an interview for an internship back home this week! I also intended to get a lot done after visiting the National Portrait Gallery Wednesday morning, but in Jordan’s promise of a “10-minute break to buy socks,” I found myself receiving a free haircut at a reputable salon. My student hairdresser was from Prague (I happened to book tickets to Prague about an hour earlier), however he didn’t speak much English, but he did tell me I look “Svedish” in a thick accent. The incredibly tedious cut took three hours as he snipped each hair strand as if it was open heart surgery, but I think I may have a symmetrical haircut for the first time in eighteen months. I should stop cutting my own hair I suppose. He tricked me into coming back two days later to get the cut checked by his professor, but the check turned into a two hour wash accompanied by four thousand brutal crosschecks for accuracy, five thousand tangled knots and a desire to jab my eyes with the comb he was balancing on my head and subsequently ruining my life with. In the end, it’s a haircut and that’s about it.
I managed to bust out most of my paper Friday night, so I took Saturday to breath a bit. I went for a jog around the everblooming Regents Park and ended up wandering Primrose Hill, new territory for me. London looks quite nice under a bit of haze, too. These early Saturday morning walks always seem to turn emotional. The thought of leaving in under two months almost brought tears and I just don’t want to wake up to a day where I can’t explore this city. I grabbed Kelle and we walked a few miles to Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill, also a new destination for us. At first it seemed to be a massive crowd with tables of antiques and useless goodies, but we kept on and found exactly what we were hoping for. The buildings are of pastel shades and the trees just happen to be blooming so paired with the exceptional weather, we had an ideal Saturday morning for the market. We found a busker who we couldn’t tear ourselves away from and we ate some cakes that were completely necessary, for the full experience, ya know? I purchased a jam and cream filled donut as well as a custard filled donut, though I regret not going for the eclair (next time, next time). So there’s my dreamy morning. We walked back through Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, stopping to play in the flowers. I should get back to work now. Happy weekend, y’all.