eneral update before I fall even further behind. This is not my preferred format of blogging but those eighteen credits are catching up with me in the form of papers and papers and papers, and we’re planning our weekend trips (Edinburgh, Dublin and/or Belfast, and Oxford), and lately staying up late into the hours of the British night to chat with friends back on the East coast has seemed like a good idea, so… yes. So sorry.
INTERNSHIP
I am doing really cool PR things! I am contacting journalists about feature stories and magazines about product giveaways and drafting copy for websites and media kits and making gift packages for celebrities! Some of whom use currency symbols to spell their names, or won Brit awards, or are ska princesses!
Most exciting was being charged with unraveling the mystery of the incorrect EAVs (Estimated Advertising Value, how one determines what public relations work is worth), which involved politely and professionally harassing the “account manager” who insisted the figures were correct when they were not and then calling the third party who provided the statistics used to calculate the figures and finally eventually getting to the bottom of it. It was very satisfying. And pigeon-free.
THE FLAT
The problem with living in an eight person flat is that when you see a glaring problem, like a sink of dirty dishes or a full garbage bin, you think ‘Hmm. Someone should do something about that,’ and walk away. Diffusion of responsibility and all that.
THE WEEKEND
…why would you start a weekend on Wednesday? I remember freshman year of college when I was utterly mystified and not a little horrified that some people went out drinking on Thursdays even though they were school nights, which at the time seemed an unpardonable sin. Here Thursdays are taken for granted as a party night and Wednesdays and Tuesdays are the new frontier. Some people go out so hard during the week that they don’t even bother to go on the weekends! I just can’t get that logic (possibly because it’s a logic-free equation. Or because I did not do so well in Intro to Logic class last semester. Or both.)
Umlaut and I had managed to avoid having to navigate the night bus system until very recently by either coming back early (before the tubes close) or by only going to walk-able places. The bus that eventually got us home though? Number 27, historically the lucky number of the female side of my family.
HARRY POTTER TOUR
Upon arriving at King’s Cross for our Harry Potter walking tour we immediately noticed the woman in the floor length cloak and elaborate witch hat and debated how mortifying it would be if we approached her and she were in fact not actually the tour guide. But she was, and she was *spectacular*, animated and knowledgeable and everything. How does one see every Potter-related locale in London in two hours? BY FLYING.
If by flying you mean dashing at a flat out sprint over wet cobblestones after a costumed woman with a broomstick, which she did, so yes. She stopped briefly outside a Southwark theater to talk about something and the stage crew came out to shush her because they were midway through a performance of the Scottish Play and she freaked out and yelped “Oh no not the bad one!” and ran away.
PALACE OF WESTMINSTER TOUR
My European Government professor managed to get us in even though I don’t think non-UK citizens are technically supposed to be able to right now, and it was awesome.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment