(no subject)

[primroseburrows]

Living room of the ACCB hostel in London:



One of the kitchens:



My bedroom. It's a four-person dorm, but I had it to myself:



Power lines along highway 401. Creeped me out for a full second before I figured out why, and then they still creeped me out:



Avon river, across from the New Burbage Stratford Festival Theatre:











I poured him in the river and swans ATE him!:



I want an icon of this with "bread" changed to "dead":



More later. It takes forever to resize these things. Next up: An English Garden in Canada.

Comments

[primroseburrows.livejournal.com]

I ended up going back to the First Peoples exhibit and tagging along with a tour led by a great (and very informative) volunteer tour guide. Then I got to see a piece of Nanook of the North. I wish I'd been able to see it from the beginning, but just seeing the few minutes I did was awesome, because I'm reading a book that's partly about the guy who wrote and directed it.

Then of course I had to go and get my debit card eaten by a Bank of Montreal ATM in Toronto after which a Long Story ensued. I get to go to a bank tomorrow, whee!

I hope my border-crossing is faster, but I've heard that US customs take longer, so *shrug*

[peacey.livejournal.com]

What a pain in the ass re: debit card.

Customs at border crossing went like this:

(To Cheryl): Where did you travel to in Canada?

Cher: Stratford & Toronto.

Agent: For what?

Cher: Plays in Stratford, touristy things in Toronto.

Agent: How many plays did you see?

Cher: Two.

Agent (looking at me, speaking to Cher): How do you know her?

Cher: We're sisters.

Agent: Do you have anything to declare such as food, alcohol, or weapons?

Cher: No.

Agent (hands passports to Cher): Thank you.

It took all of a minute. And I don't get questioning how many plays we saw. Questioning which ones makes more sense because if we were lying and just pulling plays out of the air, he could catch us. But how many is unproveable.