Today was one of the strangest days of my life.
First off, I'm going to say that this weekend I went to Spittlefield's market in London, and then to the Victoria and Albert Museum. On the way to the V&E (walking) we went through Hyde park. In the middle of the park there was a cobblestone circle thing with a black and white tree, so I thought "Hey, I'll take a picture."
Bad idea.
My camera, my lovely Cannon Digital Elph fell tumbling towards the cobblestone. I saw it all in slow motion. My camera was screaming. Then came the connection. Technology on rock. It was bad. As in, fully dented camera/shutter won't open/screen won't light up bad. I was not happy. Especially since this is my 3rd digital camera, not to mention the 4th iPod I'm on. technology hates me. After a couple hours of online searching and tinkering, we accepted the fact I was going to have to shed some major dough to get this fixed, since the problem seemed to be internal. Damn.
So, this morning I got up early to go to a camera stone in city centre to see where I can get it fixed. I walk in, explain my problem, whip out the camera to show the attendant, and voila...it worked. Everything was perfect. Well, except for the places where it looks like a meteor shower hit it. But otherwise, it was golden. Weird thing #1.
So I take the train in, go to class, spend major hourage in the library waiting for my next class blah blah blah. When the time comes for my last class of the day, I walk over to Bramber House. I see a bunch of my classmates outside, and then they proceed to point up. On top of Bramber House was a slew of protesters, chanting and waving banners for all us down below to see. I then find out that security has closed down all of the stairwells and the lifts, leaving all of us lecture-bound stranded. So, in short, class was cancelled due to protesters and I got to catch an early train back. Happy days.
I powerwalk to the station, hoping to catch the 4.30 to Eastbourne. I get there, and I rather large woman stops me and tells me I can't get on the train. Being the selfish American that I am, I ask her why I can't, since I see the train sitting right there. She then proceeds to tell me that someone has died on the tracks. At that point, I wanted to get the hell out of there. Splattered person on the railway isn't really my cup of tea. But, since I was so clever and questioned her before, she proceeds to tell me all about the incident. 5 minutes later, and I'm trying to find another way back home, since the train is my only normal transport. I found some old men who were also Eastbourne-bound and we all proceeded to find our way to the bus stop. 30 minutes later, in the windy, freezing cold and snow packed air, our bus came.
I was able to get off at Lewes (the town where Jane works) becasue I was told trains were running from there. After getting lost only twice, I made it to the station, and made friends with a 40-year-old student from Sussex. Things were looking up.
FINALLY, I'm back in Eastbourne. On my 15-minute walk back home from the train station I decided that I would run into the grocery store and pick up some nice food for myself (i.e. chocolate milk, chocolate cereal, and bread) After checking out I pop in my headphones and blast my music, chocolate milk in one hand and cereal in the other, ready for my short walk back home.
As I walk out of the store, I see a man leaning up against the wall. He says something, but my Florence + the machine is blasting so loud I don't hear what he says, assuming he's on the phone. I continue my way towards the cemetary, and I hear his voice again, louder and longer. The bright bulb I am, blissfully continues to listen to my music.
Finally, right as I'm entering the cemetary, I hear him again, and think to myself..shit, he is talking to me. I continue walking and look back towards the main road and I see him. Hooded jacket, meanicing face, he is standing squarely facing me, staring at me. I take out my headphones and continue walking, and just beofre I reach the church I look towards the road again. Senor McCreep has followed me, and when I stopped, so did he. Again, he stands sqaurely facing me and glaring.
At this point, I'm scared as shit. My litre of chocolate milk and granola won't help me in this 12th century churchyard, and CCTV camera can only help identify my killer, not save me. Yes, yes I know I'm overexaggerating, but in those 10 seconds I was seriously debating if I should go for the eyes or the crotch first. I get halfway through the cemetary and stand under a light, regaining my composure. "Lauren," I think, "Grow the hell up. My god...he's not going to do anything."
Sure that that mindset was correct, I continue onward. As soon as I have about 1/4 of the way to go, I spot him again. I see him and he sees me. In my periferals I see him continuing to stare at me and follow my path along the main road. As soon as I exited the churchyard and got behind the row of houses that hid me from that main road, I ran like hell. Backpack bouncing against my back, cereal clutched in my fist, I booked it back to our house. I must admit, I must've looked like a lunatic.
Once I got inside, I didn't know what to do with myself, so instead of doing anything rational I booked a plane ticket to Florence.
And that my friends, was the story of my Monday.
