London – day 5 – Tate Gallery and Cirque du Soleil

Today started slow but ended with a bang (or so I hope). We went through the usual morning routine of snoozing the alarm 5 times, Katy kicking me out of bed (supposedly so I could have the privilege of showering first, but I suspect so it's because she wants to sprawl on the bed) and then breakfast. I flipped throuhg the hotel's yellow pages to find a good italian restaurant that was close by – and still in existence.

We headed towards the Tate modern art museum. It's a very ecclectic mix of stuff I found really cool, like original Mondrians, Warhols, Dalis, Matisses and Rodins and the rest, which I can classify in the following categories:
– stuff I could do myself
– stuff I find ugly as sin
– stuff I just don't get

A few times while we were wandering the exhibit halls, I caught myself asking “is this a sculpture or did a workman just forget his tools here?”. I also ran into my favourite type of person to hate, the goatee-sprouting beret-wearing pseudo-intellectual mofo, who just oooohs and aaaaahs in front of a sculpture of a brain getting penetrated by a dildo.

Once the gallery was done, we took the tube to Oxford Circus to do the last bit of shopping. I went completely mad at Whittards and bought something like 20 pounds of tea and coffee. Sa-weeet! We also went sock shopping for Katy, but again the selection was found lacking. It was better than the other day's shop expedition, but still, meh. We went on a vinyl expedition to go look for a friggin copy of Floyd's DSOTM. After 5 shops, we finally found one but it was too expensive for something I will basially hang up on my wall. Damnit.

Got back to the hotel to drop off the packages and I took the opportunity to pack my suitcase. It surprised me that everything I bought fit inside! I knew that I had lots of presents coming in, but damn, I know I did buy lots of stuff while I was on this side of the pond. Still, I'm not complaining. The Luggage (and yes, it deserves a capital L) will be hellish to lug aroung the underground tomorrow, especially given the fact that the Picadilly line isn't going all the way to Heathrow because of line maintenance.

After a bit of weird british daytime TV, we went to dinner. It was plentiful, it was tasty, it was filling, it was well served, and best of all, IT WASN'T DEEP FRIED! Hmmmm, pasta. That was our treat for the week. A nice little Italian cafe on Kensington High Street called Sopranos. Had lots of nummy food and a bit of booze (on an empty stomach, which probably explains the drunken, after-dinner underwear shopping trip which, though brief, yielded 4 tops and a pair of undies).

Walked to the Royal Albert Hall, picked up the tickets and headed to the bar (of course) to wait until the doors opened. Katy quote: “The most important thing you have to remember when you show your ticket is to look sober!” The show was good. Lots of wows. The juggler is, if anything, better than the last time I saw him.

So tonight is my last night in London. By this time tomorrow, I'm going to be in Ottawa and by the same time on sunday, I'll be in Montreal. I'm going to be jetlagged as hell, and I'm going to be missing my sweetie. Going back to work seems surreal just right this minute. It's always like that after a vacation where you completely disconnect from your day-to-day reality. Monday will bring back the duldrum of dealing with IBM and a 5-hour time shift with Katy. I'm really not looking forward to that one. I've gotten used to being in the same timezone; hell I've gotten used to being in the same bed. Le sigh. I really need to get the girl setup in North America. I was telling her this on the tube. Best case scenario is for me to be in Montreal, with Katy and a Tesco. She's going to work at it.