It's Christmastime in the city

In old London town for the week. Bit hard to believe, but I finally shook hands today with the recruiter, Aine, with whom I've been working via phone, email, and post for the past 11 months. I suppose that's a small victory in and of itself - God knows (well, Aine and I know, at least, and a lot of you have a pretty good idea) what it's taken to get me to this point. It was really good to talk to her and glean some more details about what actually living and working over here will be like; somehow I found that it reassured a lot of the doubts that the ONP raised for me. I feel slightly more confident now that I will not forget all my nursing skills and become destitute as a result of this little venture.

Now for more interesting things. Usually I'm a stickler about no Christmas music earlier than 12.01 a.m. on Black Friday, but this year I'm bending my rules and striking up the Josh Groban early in deference to my current location. After all, there's no Thanksgiving to act as a buffer between Halloween and Jingle Bells here, so everything's been thoroughly decked out for a few weeks now. Not that I'm complaining, mind! Although I have to admit that it does add to the flashes of surreality I still occasionally get about being here.

So I had myself a little (10-mile) ramble about town yesterday to drink it all in. Started in Covent Garden:

Then headed up past Trafalgar Square en route to Hyde Park...

...or at least I thought I was en route to Hyde Park. Somehow I'd got myself onto Regent Street, and - contrary to my belief, which in retrospect was not actually founded on anything, that it ran parallel to Piccadilly and towards the park - I ended up travelling parallel to the park itself and eventually away from it. Hence, unexpected hike. Thank God I'd worn decent shoes, that's all I have to say.

Finally got myself turned around and on Oxford Street, where I could be properly awed by the Christmas spirit and cowed by my poverty.

Hyde Park Christmas market! Which, unfortunately, looked suspiciously similar to the one in Bournemouth, only larger (but thanks to repetition, not novelty, of stalls).

But you know what was awesome? I got to help two people get engaged! Totally serious. As I was walking towards the exit of the market, I was flagged down by this guy and his friend and asked to hand a rose and a note to a girl waiting at the entrance. His plan was to recruit a dozen passersby to deliver his dozen rose/note combinations one by one. I think he might have done better to round up his messengers first and then send them out gradually, since the poor girl ended up standing and waiting for a good twenty minutes while, round the corner, her then-boyfriend begged people to help him out (honestly, folks, where's your Christmas spirit?). It all worked out in the end, though:

(sigh)

Harrods!

Just as ludicrous as I should have expected. And I didn't even make it past the first floor - i.e., the food hall. Not that this should surprise anyone.

Nom. And also nom. Any requests?