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bugshaw at 01:56am on 29/01/2012
bugshaw at 01:56am on 29/01/2012Disappointed when I pulled a Jules Verne (The English at the North Pole) from the unread hardback shelf to find it is only really half a book, I picked up the paperback Journey to the Centre of the Earth for train-based reading. It's a 1965 printing, the glue has dried off, and it sheds each page as I turn it. How long ago was the story? It was published in 1864, I suspect the setting was intended to be contemporary/near future. The train passes through Wymondham railway station, opened in 1845.
The trip was to Norwich with friends to the Belgian Monk, I joined them on a whim having become suddenly available for gallivanting. There were many beers (or ciders for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bugshaw), and they handled my no wheat/gluten no dairy well at lunch. I learnt a bit more menu-language, the significant difference between bruschetta and brochette (handy if you're trying to avoid bread. Or food tainted with iron, which would destroy your faerie powers). The journey there was okay (1h20min, longer than my usual comfort zone 45min fast train to London), or felt okay at the time, but as the afternon wore on (with pacing being perhaps a little off) I started to suffer. Made it home okay i.e. without assistance, and the next few days will be difficult, but there's a data point for my travelling capacity.
Norwich was good, giant Alan Partridge banner in the train station, masses of centuries-old buildings scattered around, extraordinary numbers of pubs, and decent shopping. I'd like to go back and peer round their fabric shops some time. Shops, plural! With bolts and bolts of cloth.
The trip was to Norwich with friends to the Belgian Monk, I joined them on a whim having become suddenly available for gallivanting. There were many beers (or ciders for
bugshaw), and they handled my no wheat/gluten no dairy well at lunch. I learnt a bit more menu-language, the significant difference between bruschetta and brochette (handy if you're trying to avoid bread. Or food tainted with iron, which would destroy your faerie powers). The journey there was okay (1h20min, longer than my usual comfort zone 45min fast train to London), or felt okay at the time, but as the afternon wore on (with pacing being perhaps a little off) I started to suffer. Made it home okay i.e. without assistance, and the next few days will be difficult, but there's a data point for my travelling capacity. Norwich was good, giant Alan Partridge banner in the train station, masses of centuries-old buildings scattered around, extraordinary numbers of pubs, and decent shopping. I'd like to go back and peer round their fabric shops some time. Shops, plural! With bolts and bolts of cloth.
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