“You should just keep a list of everything I say and draw wisdom from it.”

Ironically we cannot recall anything in particular that was actually said today, but I may end up having to write a memoir of Chloë instead of one of London if she has her way. I mean she’s not royalty per se, but peerage is pretty impressive. If nothing else she’s invaluable for matters of British authenticity, and she doesn’t cheat much at cards.

Since last we spoke, er, I posted at you (?) not a terrible lot has occurred, but I’ve got to keep on top of things. There was a panoramic bus tour of all the crucial sights led by one of those terrifically funny and knowledgeable tour guides one is sometimes lucky enough to come across and a spectacularly giggly girls’ night (“No. I was on a ski lift.”) with Umlaut and 8th, who are actually Chloë and Rachel, which my mother could apparently not discern through context clues. Chlo ’s nickname is lurking over her last letter and Rachel was the last roommate to join us, her homestay having fallen through dismally. She basically lives in our room.

Sunday involved an attempt at visiting the Tate Modern museum, foiled by time constraints, and a separate attempt at visiting Camden Market, foiled by tube cancellations (Does the bloody system never actually not have delays and re-routings? Any native you ask will nod wearily and tell you no, it never does not.) and finally a successful visit to Oxford Street, premiere shopping and walking distance from our flat.

Granted my background as a courier means I consider walking distance anything much less than four miles, but still, it’s really just like three turns. Rachel and I split off as Chloë met up with a high school friend also studying in London and explored Topshop and Selfridges, where Rachel and I were informed by a sales assistant that a particular dress we were admiring was three thousand pounds in a tone that clearly conveyed hilariously clearly ‘Please don’t touch.’

Rachel’s personality can be best described as Annoying Summer Camp Counselor, and I say that in the most loving way possible. Her feeling is that everyone should have sunny happy fun all the time and relax. Much as I know I would have despised her had she actually been my camp counselor (I needed my brooding time!) I adore her: she’s the perfect complement to my where-are-we-going-how-do-we-get-there-will-we-be-on-time-probably-not-oh-no anxious nonsense. Truth is we don’t always know where we’re going and lord knows we don’t always know how to get there, but eventually we get somewhere. Usually.

Anyways that tangent aside we got a traditional pub Sunday Roast, which was not totally to my liking but an essential cultural experience. Yorkshire pudding ISN’T EVEN REALLY PUDDING.
Monday I had my internship interview. The internships through CAPA are basically set up so it’s somewhat perfunctory , but an interview is an interview.

I arrived early at King’s Cross but not early enough to find platform 9 and ¾, since the station is a freaking underground labyrinth. Upon arriving at Omega Place I found not a single indication of a major cosmetic company’s headquarters but rather an abandoned warehouse and an ominous fence.

Suddenly out of nowhere a gentleman appeared and when I asked him if he’d ever heard of Murad he said of course, he worked there, and showed me the super secret hidden door and keypad, which led up a narrow stair case to a perfectly lovely converted loft office space.

Crisis thusly averted I met with my supervisor Zoe, who seems terrific. My responsibilities will include some things like writing press releases, blogposts, web copy, updating press kits, and even reading magazines to clip out media coverage and researching competitor brands.

Worst part: I’ll have to undergo product training and use samples of all the cosmetics. Don’t worry about me, I’ll get through it somehow. …Sarcasm aside I’m very excited!

To get academic credit for the internship I also have to complete an internship course, which had its first lecture last night. Eh, s'alright.

Chloë and I had a very violent game of Spit (card game) with the terrorist deck.

Today we walked to CAPA through Hyde Park, where we encountered a swan who wished me ill. I could just tell it had malicious intents towards my personage.

Travel Fair, which was not so much a fair as an opportunity to grab a handful of leaflets on various programs and then Harrods, because it’s Harrods. Most decadent department store ever anywhere, great fun.

Now we rest up briefly before meeting some people for dinner, hopefully fish and chips.