Some of the staff at the Fynn went out for a drink after the show, but I didn’t because I can’t bear to watch the best friends best friending it up around each other. I don’t begrudge them their happiness, but it makes me long for the people that I knew at Point who are now scattered to the four winds. I invested so much energy and love into them that I don’t have the stamina or the desire to do it again. I’ve learned that not everyone I’ve met will become a Friend, sometimes you just drift apart, or leave, or sometimes you meet more interesting people. It happens. I miss my friends. To that end, I think I’ve finally decided to move to Chicago which is close (well, closer) to everyone and do the unthinkable: theatre. Anyone got a freezing garrett what needs moving into?
Today I went to see Benjamin Franklin’s house. I didn’t realize that he lived in London for nearly twenty years before the War of American Independence. His house is just off the Strand, and apparently the landlady’s son-in-law used to perform illegal dissections there, because they found the bodies of nearly ten people in the cellar. The tour itself was somewhat disappointing: the house has been “renovated” to the period, (the staircase was so period-y uneven that I nearly fell down and killed myself in a period manner) but there is no furniture, no paintings, no rugs, nothing, not even wood for the fireplaces. The tour guide, a woman in costume, took us from room to room where recorded conversations played which she would join in or not while projections helped keep track of who was speaking. It was more interesting as a piece of theatre than as a tour, but I found the lack of information frustrating—I learned almost nothing about Franklin, nor about the London of his time. The actress couldn’t deviate from her script, and she disappeared before the end so we couldn’t ask questions. Although I suspect she wouldn’t have been able to answer them anyway. I suspect that my five quid would have been better spent on a biography of Franklin, which I’ll probably do anyway. The best part happened when I left the house and walked into a group of tourists on a walking tour. I was putting my hat on (when wearing period hats, one must observe the rules of the period, which includes taking your hat off when you’re indoors) and the tour guide shouted out “Nice hat!” which prompted me to give him my best courtly bow. I think I’m going to end up in a couple photo albums.