#and really weirdly upbeat work emails

[thetaoofbetty]

what's the sad thing about all this? it's the fact that in season 1 polly and betty seemed to care about each other a lot before alice sent her daughter to the soqm. betty lost her sister way before s5, we pratically saw polly disappear slowly from betty life. she might be the one who's surrounded by a lot of people but right now she's the most lonely, the rest of the core 4 at least talked a bit to someone, even cheryl tried to with minerva, betty still keeps everything inside. she lost a father, a sister, her boyfriend (people think she's happy that she kissed that red-head, literally so happy that when he said he still have feelings for v, she was like dude who told you i wanted something more with you) her bestfriend (i miss beronica pls), her brother i guess (charles memeber of the bughead funclub, comeback) and now she has to take care of a mother in pain and her nephew and niece. this is so sad, i really don't want polly to die :( how much pain betty can stand until she snaps??

i feel like polly disappeared from the start tbh. 

she was already at the sister’s in s1 then she went off to the farm? they didn’t even know she’d had the twins, right? really should have gotten some naming advice there, pollykins. 

betty doesn’t really talk to anyone who isn’t jughead, let’s be real (and sometimes cheryl, it’s sort of an interesting thing where they stick cheryl in there nowadays but they should either make them friendlier or use the family connection so it seems less odd. kevin this season sometimes too which makes me think there’s a reason for it later on but we’ll see). betty is very closed off and with good reason to be? what did talking get her growing up? nothing. archie is shown in the very start of s1, ep 1 to not pay attention to a word she’s saying so it probably just reinforced the idea that no one cared what she had to say. 

i find jughead very interesting in contrast to betty, where he’s not as closed off as she is but gives the impression that he is. he’s also written in a very femgaze manner when it comes to her. he doesn’t just hear her, he sees her. that’s very important in how they write bughead and it’s very important to the way betty interacts with him. she’s not scared to talk to him because he’s a: not judging her and b: she knows he’s listening to what she’s saying. 

(i have many thoughts about the writing and why this is both a good and bad thing when it comes to betty’s character: mainly, again, things becoming about jughead’s reaction to betty’s trauma vs remembering that it’s betty’s trauma that the scene is about) 

but yes, i don’t know how much more she can take in the context of what’s going on with her. the serial killer, her missing sister, her likely dead sister. her mom, her lack of a support system, her repressed issues, etc. it’s a lot and i have a feeling it’s probably not all going to come out until the musical. maybe before a little? the musical seems like it’s definitely already being considered within the cooper storyline so i think we’ll see a lot of stuff looking back once the season is over. 

i do think, in the end, someone will be there for her. and we all know who that’s going to be.😭

[artificialqueens]

Hey Stranger Part 1 (Biadore) - Houdini

A/N: come on part 1! Firstly, thank you all so much for your kind comments on this and Glow (I am shook). Secondly, originally Hey Stranger was supposed to be Biadore but it kind of became a monster, and I’ve hinted at a few side pairings here. Any feedback/comments/suggestions/bribes would be amazing, hit me up at @princess-banana-lady :) Here’s the official first part of Hey Stranger, enjoy! xoxo Houdini

Fuck. Adore rolled over once again, trying to will herself to sleep. She had to be up ridiculously early tomorrow for orientation and she had a feeling showing up with dark circles wouldn’t go over well at Charles’. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep- what if I don’t make friends? Ganj will be there, she’ll be outgoing, but I can’t just rely on her. What kind of weirdo has one friend that’s also their cousin?

Adore’s inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of her door creaking open. She held back a smile as she heard feet padding towards the bed. Obviously. Rolling over to make room for her cousin, she let out a groan. “Can’t sleep either?”

Laganja snorted. “Nah, I just felt like squeezing in your bed,” she replied drily, flicking on the bedside lamp and slipping her amazon-long legs into the sheets. The two faced each other silently. After years of living together, words weren’t needed. Adore blinked as she noticed a lilac streak running through Laganja’s long hair. “That’s dope,” she commented. Laganja smiled. “Gotta keep up the image, girl”.

Adore let out a laugh. Always one to march to the beat of her own drum, Laganja had gone through virtually every hairstyle on the planet. A few years and lifestyle choices after their move, she had ditched her plain-jane (literally) name and threw herself into more advanced dance classes. People at school saw Laganja as the loud, leggy blonde with a penchant for tongue pops, but Adore could see the same cousin who had come to live with them when Adore was 7. And right now, she was scared shitless.

Not that Adore was any different. Starting tomorrow, she couldn’t rely on her social butterfly of a cousin to make friends for the both of them. They had homeroom together, but other than that, Adore would be in the music stream and Laganja in the dance stream. “Adore?” Langanja whispered. “Yeah, Ganj?”

Laganja paused before continuing. “Can you do that purple eyeshadow thing on me tomorrow?” she asked quietly. Adore punched her playfully. “Yes, bitch. You do the cat eye on me.” Laganja nodded eagerly. “It’ll be okay I think. Plus, Bianca will be there and her mom says she’s got tons of friends,” she said before lowering her voice. “Are you ready to see your lesbian awakening again?” she teased.

Adore shrieked and slapped Laganja’s arm. “Don’t play that, girl!” she responded before letting out a huge yawn. Laganja giggled and turned off the lamp. “You didn’t answer,” she mumbled, already drifting off. But they both knew the answer. Hell no.

*****

Bianca checked her reflection in the mirror again, pursing her lips. She didn’t normally wear makeup to school, but Courtney’s excessive tirades about “The importance of senior year, B!”, had gotten to her. Dark brown eyeliner made her amber eyes pop, and her glossy lips looked downright kissable. Grabbing her bag, she made her way downstairs and out the door just as Courtney pulled up. The upbeat Aussie flashed her pearly whites as Bianca slid into shotgun. “You look stellar, lady killer!” she trilled, revving her engine. Bianca cackled. “You’re just excited for new meat, aren’t you?”

Courtney feigned shock before nodded. “I just want to find someone I can actually have a real thing with, you know?” she mused. Bianca nodded, trying to hide the look of disgust on her face. She failed. “Bianca! Not everyone can just fuck and leave like you do. Besides, there will definitely be some cute new girls” she teased. Bianca rolled her eyes as Courtney began singing along to the radio.

3 songs later, they pulled into the parking lot and were promptly greeted by Alaska and Jinx. The two theatre majors grinned as they greeted Bianca and Courtney with hugs. “Court, you’re never gonna guess who the new dance head is! It’s Alyssa–” “Edwards.” Courtney finished. “Her daughters are here too, apparently,” Jinx mused.

Alaska’s eyebrows shot up. “Girl, Adore Gelato’s back?” she exclaimed.

“Delano.” Bianca mumbled.

Alaska nodded before continuing. “Shit, if both her kids are here they must be talented as hell. We haven’t had siblings since Shangela and Gia last year.”

The foursome made their way through the front entrance. “Where’s Trixie?” Bianca questioned, searching the halls for the last member of their group. As if she had magically conjured her, a pink faced Trixie emerged from a classroom and lumbered her way towards them. “Move!” she snapped, practically pushing a new kid out of her path. “Shit.” Courtney muttered, staring at the angry pink tornado as she approached.

“Ican’tfuckingbelievethisfuckmrkressleyIamnotgoingto-” “Bitch, breathe!” Bianca barked. Trixie took a deep breath before speaking again. “You know how I applied to be the student director for the fall production, right?” she began, balling her fists. “Of course we know. We read through your application about 40 fucking times.” Bianca exasperatedly replied.

“Right, well Mr. Kressley emailed me to meet with him today, saying I got the position. But apparently, there’s going to be two directors this year,” she seethed. Courtney wrinkled her nose, staring at her fellow music major in confusion. “Why is that a bad thing?” she questioned.

“It’s not. It shouldn’t be.” Trixie retorted. The four girls waited for an answer. “Except the other director is KATYA ZAMOLODCHIKOVA!” she hissed.

Bianca bit back a smile as she eyed the other girls, each of them trying equally as hard not to crack. Finally, Jinx spoke. “You know, Ivy really likes Katya. Maybe you’ll finally get along,” she chuckled.

Trixie and Katya had been rivals since they began at Charles. Although to be fair, it was more of a one way rivalry. They were the top two students in the year, but Trixie never understood how the perpetually chilled out Russian did so well. The girl was constantly pulling all nighters and managed to show up in weird prints every single day, and to the driven Trixie, that was a reflection of her work ethic. However, Bianca had seen Katya’s work. The girl was fucking talented, and a gem to boot.  

Trixie huffed as the group approached a table filled with fliers. “And she’s a design student. Since when has a design student qualified to help direct a musical? No offencee Bianca.”

Bianca smiled. “None taken,” she replied, picking up a flier and handing it to Courtney, who gasped. “Legally Blonde??? YES!!!” she exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to play Elle,” she raved, raising her voice to be heard over two excited new girls.

One of the newbies, muscular with unruly blonde hair turned towards Courtney.

“I see that,” she remarked, unabashedly raking her eyes over Courtney’s body. “Yes gawd!” her friend sang, snapping her fingers at the now blushing Courtney. “Come on, Elle!”

Alaska and Jinx laughed at the blonde, who had legs up to her fucking ears and a light purple streak in her sleek hair. Bianca blinked as she stared at the girl’s blue eyes, framed by long lashes and shimmery purple eyeshadow. The girl looked weirdly familiar.

The muscular one grinned at them. “I’m Willam, and this giraffe is-” “

Holy shit!” the leggy girl exclaimed. “Bianca! Bianca Del Rio??” she cried, her  haughty face splitting into a warm smile.

Bianca nodded, still not sure who this girl was. “That’s me,” she rasped. Willam’s eyebrow shot up. “Sexy voice,” she commented. Bianca rolled her eyes. “Nice try blondie, but I don’t do charity work,” she quipped.

Willam shrugged. “You’re not my type either,” she replied, eyeing Courtney, who was batting her annoyingly long lashes.

The tall girl stared at Bianca before raising her eyebrows. “Girl, it’s me!” she said, gesturing wildly. Bianca stared at her before shaking her head. “Sorry, I don’t remember-” “Jane!” , the tall girl whispered, looking around furtively. Willam let out a loud laugh. “Your actual name is-” she screeched, cutting off abruptly when she saw the glare coming from her new friend.

Bianca’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, you grew the fuck up!” she cackled, giving the girl in front of her a hug. “It’s Langanja now,” Laganja announced. Jinx laughed. “I can smell. I mean, tell.” she joked.

Bianca quietened. If Jane, or Laganja, or whatever is here, then Adore’s gotta be here already too. Why am I so invested in seeing that kid again? It’s not like-

“Where’s Adore?” Alaska asked, looking around the atrium and rousing Bianca from her train of though. “She’s helping Aunt Alyssa set up the studio. I would help but the school doesn’t want me hanging around Alyssa that much. Conflict of interest or some shit,” Laganja explained, rolling her eyes.

“She’s in dance. I’m music,” said Willam. Bianca nodded. “I’m design, these two bitches are theatre,” she suppled, turning to Courtney slyly. Courtney turned pink as she looked at Willam. “Trixie and I are music too,” she said feebly, as the other seniors tried not to laugh.

“What’s up Charles! This is Manila Luzon and Latrice Royale with your 5 minute warning!” blared a familiar voice over the P.A system.

“We should get going to homeroom, the bell’s gonna go,” warned Jinx. Trixie turned back to the two younger girls. “You guys should audition for the musical. It’s just one song and a monologue, and I’m the assistant director.”

“Co-assistant director,” Alaska teased. Trixie rolled her eyes. “But yeah, Court and Jinx normally do it and Bianca’s head of costuming. Auditions are in two days.”

Willam nodded. “Sounds good.” she decided, before turning to go. “It was nice meeting you girls. Bye Courtney,” said Willam, shooting the Australian a wink.

“Have you seen Adore yet?” Laganja questioned, her expression unreadable. “Nope,” Bianca responded, trying to ignore the weird feeling in her stomach. Laganja nodded before sauntering away with Willam.

“Who’s gonna tell them new meat always get the chorus?” Jinx chuckled. Bianca smiled. “They’ll learn.”

Trixie checked her watch. “Let’s go,” she suggested, turning to Jinx. The two headed down the east corridor while Alaska made her way to the south one. “I’ll say hi to Katya for you!” she yelled, laughing as Trixie flipped her off.

Courtney grabbed Bianca’s arm as the two headed to their own homeroom.

***

Laganja pulled out her phone as Willam led her to their first class. She grinned as Adore picked up on the first ring.

“We finally finished setting up that fucking barre, I never want to see a dance studio ever again,” Adore ranted. Laganja laughed at how out of breath Adore’s voice sounded.

“Adore?”

“Yeah Ganj?”

“What do you think of Legally Blonde?”

[wildefiction]

Focus

WORD COUNT: 1,352

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Reader reminisces about how she became a convention photographer when she gets a phone call from an old friend asking for help.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

ONE

Rain fell in heavy sheets, pelting the glass windows of her home office. Glancing up from the screen that had monopolized the better part of Y/F/N’s Saturday morning, a wistful smile quickly replaced the look of concentration she’d worn only moments before.

It had taken the better part of five years, but what had started as a hobby had now become Y/F/N’s career. Always a bit on the nerdier side, as a child she’d suffered for her love of comic books, fantasy novels and dressing as her favorite characters. When she’d turned fourteen, Y/F/N had attended her very first Comic-Con, right here in the Pacific Northwest. At seventeen, she bought her first camera with savings accumulated from her first summer job. The cheap little point-and-shoot meant only to help preserve the memories experienced at conventions.

Although photography was her passion, ten years later she still found herself behind the desk of a large conglomerate – the steady hum of coworkers tapping away on their keyboards surrounding her as she sat in a grey sea of cubicles and windowless drudgery. Like most of her peers, she celebrated Friday afternoons with unimaginable glee. Unlike her counterparts however, her weekends were spent huddled over the small sewing desk crammed into a corner of her one-room apartment. Bolts of colorful fabric stuffed in every available space. Tirelessly she perfected the smallest details on what had, over the years, become award-winning cosplay. Y/F/N had quickly taken note of what good photography was, often hanging out with convention photographers as they wandered the halls, capturing the moments that would eventually become highlight videos and marketing materials for future events.

As she devoured every book in sight on the finer points of photography, Y/F/N discovered soon enough that she was in the market for a completely different camera set-up.

Months of research and countless interviews with other photographers helped hone her knowledge and the day she bought her first full-frame camera, she knew something was about to change for the better. She also knew that the new path she was turning towards had no room for grey walls and a corporate mentality. So, she quit. While some said the decision was hasty, she was confident that if she was to be successful in her new endeavor, a sharp left-turn out of corporate America was necessary.

****

Thoughts cut short with the melodic notes of her favorite Indie band, Y/F/N turned from the winter rainstorm and strode back to her desk. A smile spread across her face as she lifted the phone from the glossy surface. Chris hadn't called her in months, both of them busy with their own ongoing photography assignments.

“Chris! Hey man, how've you been?”

Exchanging pleasantries, you found yourself pacing the room - wiggling your toes in the plush cream carpet while you caught up with one of your earliest mentors.

Several years prior, you'd run into the man - quite literally - nearly knocking him to the ground in your haste to make a group shoot. Seeing the camera clutched in one hand, he'd only grinned while you stood there stammering out an apology as best you could in the very little time you had to spare. Ten minutes later, while you stood amongst a group of other cosplayers (still trying to steady your heart-rate), you turned at the sound of the ballroom door opening. Chris had come waltzing into the room, that same steady grin on his face, and for the first time you took note of his appearance. More than anything, the frosted ice of his eyes sent an actual chill through your body.

When you'd opened your email several weeks later and found the pictures from that event, you were impressed. The images were crisp, vibrant and well-lit. Comparing them to the work of staff photographers, who were usually volunteers with very little experience, you found his images inspiring and you'd immediately sent an email asking for pointers - explaining your desire to improve your own photography skills. He'd agreed almost instantly and over the years the two of you had shared information with each other. Eventually as you started taking more photography assignments and fewer cosplay commissions you'd started to build a name for yourself. More often than not you'd be on a flight to a different location nearly every weekend, but you couldn't fathom wanting to do anything else.

****

“Hey Y/F/N, what's your calendar looking like this next weekend?” Chris put the call on speaker, throwing the phone down on the non-descript mattress of the generic hotel he was getting ready to leave.

Slightly taken aback by his abrupt question, Y/F/N navigated to her schedule for the following week. There were no entries. Scrunching her nose in confusion, she tried to think whether she'd missed something. Free weekends were almost never a reality for her and she needed to be sure she hadn't simply forgotten something.

“Well..weirdly enough it looks like I'm free this weekend, but I'll double check. Why, are you going to be in town?”

Pulling the desk chair back over to sit in, you began scrolling through your notes, only partially listening to the man on the other end of the conversation.

“Yeah, I'll be up for a Supernatural convention and could really use a second set of hands. Usually Seattle has a pretty small turnout, but I've also got a workshop to get ready for, so I'd love some help.” “Besides, we should catch-up.”

You'd watched through the series on Netflix earlier last year and, while you were a fan, you'd yet to attend one of their official conventions. The disappointment of booking what was sure to be your only free weekend for the next several months was short-lived. Besides, the Westin was a really nice hotel. No way would you turn that down.  Accepting his invitation, you kept the call short. If you'd be in Seattle all of the following week, finishing your current workload would be imperative.

****

Friday morning saw you arriving to the city with the sunrise. The skyline lit with oranges and yellow, a dusting of pinky-purple faded into a clear blue sky. It would be beautiful today. Drumming along the steering wheel as you pulled into the parking garage, you were thankful for the compact car you’d purchased. Half the spaces were full and it was only just after eight-thirty. Grabbing your luggage from the back seat after firing a quick text off to Chris letting him know you’d arrived, you headed for check-in.

Clusters of people mingled in the hotel lobby, nearly all of them wearing flannel or shirts with the symbol you recognized as the anti-possession symbol from the show. Sometimes a combination of both. Hotel guests who weren’t there for the convention were instantly recognizable. Expressions ranged from confusion to outright horror at the sudden influx of questionable sigils and murmured conversations about devils and angel blades.

Winding through the groups of fans, their excitement was contagious and a wide grin spread across your face as you made your way to your room. Waiting for the elevator, you hastily rifled through the messenger bag slung over one shoulder when it began to hum. Pulling your phone from one of the pockets, you unlocked it to a text from Chris:

  Dumping your belongings on the queen-sized bed, you took a moment to fire a reply to let Chris know you were on your way.

 Shoving the phone in your back pocket, you stopped briefly in front of the mirror to run a brush through your hair and fix the eye-liner that had smudged sometime between six this morning and now.

A few minutes later, as you wandered through the brightly-lit corridor of the second floor, somewhere music began to play. The upbeat, fun play-list appeared to be coming from a set of double doors halfway between where you stood and the end of the hall. Making your way to the room and grabbing hold of one brass-plated handle, you slipped inside - the door closing quietly behind you.

CHAPTER TWO

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven @natasha-cole

[socialattractionuk]

Online dating can be fun as a widow

Love, Or Something Like It

In Love, Or Something Like It, our new Metro.co.uk series, we’re on a quest to find true love.

Covering everything from mating, dating and procreating to lust and loss, we’ll be looking at what love is and how to find it in the present day.

I remember logging onto Tinder and Bumble for the first time and thinking: I’m not supposed to be here. As nearly empty-nesters my husband and I were supposed to be having our time now.

We were looking forward to travelling again, to eating dinners in grown up restaurants, to visits to the cinema that didn’t involve the latest animated Disney classic.

But life can have a cruel way of throwing curveballs in our path.

In 2014 my husband was diagnosed with stage four, incurable cancer.

Gruelling chemo and radiotherapy regimens gave us a year together, and during the brief windows where he was well enough we tried to cram in a lifetime of memories: visits to favourite places, lunches with friends – we even managed a last trip to Glastonbury.

My husband died just a year after he was diagnosed and, aged 46, I became a widow and a single mum to four grieving kids, all under 18.

As nearly empty-nesters my husband and I were supposed to be having our time now (Picture: Stephanie Nimmo)

I stumbled through my grief, trying to hold it all together. Every day was a struggle to get up and function but I needed to work and support my kids through their own sadness. I would get up, fix a smile on my face and go out knowing that when I came home there would be no one to talk to about my day.

Eventually we began to carve out our new normal but one evening I found myself on my own in the house with just the dog for company, thinking: ‘Is this as good as it gets?’

I didn’t want to be on my own forever – nor would my husband would have wanted that.

I decided to sign up to some dating apps, asking single friends to help me write what I hoped sounded like an interesting and upbeat profile, and chose my most flattering pictures. I decided to be upfront about being widowed so put it on my profile, being clear to mention that it didn’t define me.

It was, after all, the reason I was on a dating app and in many ways, it’s a lot more straightforward: there is no ex, I’m clearly not still married and while sad, my situation is actually a lot less complicated than a lot of people’s.

I stumbled through my grief, trying to hold it all together (Picture: Stephanie Nimmo)

As I started nervously swiping, it all felt weirdly superficial. I could google someone and read all about someone before we’d even met – or I could discount them on something as shallow as how tall they were.

Being judged by a picture (and judging others on theirs), was new, too: I hadn’t even liked my husband when I first met him but as we got to know each other we just clicked.

In this new dating world, I probably wouldn’t have even swiped right on my husband. It was clear that not only had my life moved on, but the world of dating also had too.

I jumped out of my skin when the phone pinged with matches. There were men out there interested in me? It felt good that someone had thought my profile intriguing enough to match with me.

I’ve been on lots of dates since I first started dating and I’ve made some great friends – in fact making friends seems to be my speciality.

I’ve met men who had posted fake photos and have turned out to be at least 10 years older and I’ve met men who said they’re looking for a relationship but in reality are just looking for a one night stand.

There were a few short term relationships but none have worked out, mainly because we wanted different things.

If love happens I’m ready to embrace it but I don’t want to replicate what I had with my husband (Picture: Stephanie Nimmo)

One guy ended things after a few dates with a text that read: ‘I don’t want to be the one to break your heart’, which struck me as particularly arrogant. Having lost losing my husband, the most heartbreaking thing had already happened. You’d have to try really hard to break it even more.

I was quite raw and naive when I started online dating but I’ve now grown in confidence. I’m not willing to take second best but I’m also determined to have fun exploring my new life. I am not the person I was – I am a new version of me. And despite recently turning 50 I’m not on the shelf. Life is there for the taking.

The main thing I’ve learned, however, is that I am no longer looking for love. When I started online dating I rushed into it, with the sole thought that I didn’t want to be on my own for the rest of my life.

Now, if love happens I’m ready to embrace it but I don’t want to replicate what I had with my husband. I want companionship, fun, someone to walk alongside me but who also allows me space – a sort of ‘fanciable friend’. It’s what I miss the most from my marriage, but I’ve had time to appreciate being on my own and becoming my own person and I don’t want to lose either.

More: UK

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Online dating can be fun and maybe one day I’ll find someone with whom I have a spark but true love is about real connection.

Life’s journey so far has taught me that our capacity to love, and to overcome the bad times, is far greater than we think it is. Love is not finite: we’re not born with a limited amount, and our understanding of love, and our ability to love, grows as we do.

What I felt for my husband on our wedding day only evolved and the love I felt for him when he died was stronger and deeper. That will never leave me but a new journey of love may still grow one day, when the time is right.

Last week in Love, Or Something Like It: Dating in the countryside takes an acquired sense of humour

Write for Love, Or Something Like It

Love, Or Something Like It is a brand new series for Metro.co.uk, published every Saturday. If you have a love story to share, email rosy.edwards@metro.co.uk

MORE: Love, Or Something Like It: I think everyone should try divorce before they’re 30

MORE: Love, Or Something Like It: What 15k Tinder matches has taught me about true love

MORE: I’m marrying below my expectations and I couldn’t be happier

[buttonstravels]

Abroad: U.K. Part 2. In Support of Richmond Fontaine.

Covers: October 18th - 24th

When we left off, Quinn and I were worried he wouldn’t have a way to get back into Germany due to his technical overstay and the possibility that German bureaucracy wouldn’t be able to deal with such a sudden request.  Going with him to his visa appointment the morning of the 18th, everything turned out to be okay and he now has a sticker in his passport that easily served as his residency permit for the month.

We headed back to the apartment, packed our backpacks—travel light!—and got on the train to Frankfurt.  We got in around 7:00, checked into our hostel, and went on a mission to the Apfelwein Haus that we’d been to after a trip to Saarbrücken when living in Kassel.  You bet I got a classic German dinner before disappearing to Great Britain for a week: schnitzel with grüne Soße, potatoes, and Apfelwein.

We passed out in our hostel that night, and woke up at about 7:30 to take the train to the airport, get checked in, and get on our flight at 10:55.  Along the way, I found myself having to remember to respond to people in english.  On the plane, I was looking for the bathroom, and one of the flight attendants, in his lovely british accent, showed me.  My response was a painfully american-sounding “danke.”

Passport control in Heathrow was a pain to go through, but I’m sure non-American citizens would say the same thing about any US airport.  The line was incredibly long, and we had to fill out weirdly personal papers detailing our visit.  Once through that, though, we made a fast lunch stop (I had my first sandwich with an avocado in months!) and hopped on the ultra-bougie Heathrow Express to Paddington Station.  This is where the trip gets insanely train-y and name-drop-y.

We stopped in Paddington, which was where I had my first moment in Britain of that butterfly-excitement of adventure.  Coming out of the Heathrow Express and into the huge, very open Paddington Station and immediately being swept up in the human traffic had a sense of magic that I hadn’t felt for a very long time.  From Paddington, we hopped on the London tube to King’s Cross, where I took a quick peek at “Platform 9 3/4,” which was definitely not between Platforms 9 and 10, and rather just a line of kids in the middle of the station trying to get a photo with a Gryffindor scarf.

I was so excited and then SO disappointed.

Then, we were off to Leeds.  The train went past so many provincial towns that reminded me of something out of Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, and I couldn’t even put in earbuds because I just wanted to hear everyone’s accents. 

Off the train, and we were a five minute walk from the train station to the hostel. We checked in, changed out of travel clothes, and set up our beds, then we were off to Hebden Bridge so as not to miss a moment of Jerry Joseph.

Hebden Bridge, only about an hour outside of Leeds, looks like a McMenamin’s theme park.  Everything looks like the Kennedy School and Edgefield.  We found ourselves in a pub called the Trades Club, which is a co-op space, holding drum classes, varying start-up food businesses, and (Quinn’s favorite) microbrew IPAs.

And then Jerry Joseph took the stage.

How many people can say they travelled 650 miles to see an opening act?

He came out playing “Think On These Things”—which I don’t know as well as his other songs since I’ve only ever heard it live—but by the chorus I was singing along, and he looked in my direction, furrowed his brow, I nodded with a smile, and the look of surprise on his face was everything I’d waited for.  It was shock, wonder, and then joy.  The exact same joy I was feeling.

A side note about my relationship to Jerry Joseph.  He and his band, the Jackmormons, have managed to take the spot of favorite musician(s) in my heart with jamming dad rock melodies, excellent guitar solos, and truthful lyrics that I have always connected to (well, since I was old enough to be able to).  Over the years, I’ve gained attention at shows for being the youngest superfan in attendance.  Then here I was, representing my entire family.

After Jerry Joseph finished his set, the second opening act came on and Jerry came down to chat with Quinn and I for a couple of minutes.  He asked if we were going to be in Nottingham the following day, and I got my chance to tell him the show was sold out and we did not have tickets.  His response was a nonchalant, “oh, I’ll get you on the list.”  And there it was, we were on the list.  I had Jerry Joseph’s phone number and email, and we would make it work.

When Richmond Fontaine came out, the set was awesome.  The guys were funny, upbeat enough to sway to, and the house loved them.  Quinn was excited, since he’d grown up hearing their music.

After the show, we hopped on the last train back to Leeds and crashed hard in the hostel from a day of constant movement.

Quinn and I were not to be slowed down for a moment, though.  It was a Thursday in Leeds, which we had decided we loved, and we were gonna see it all.  We asked the lady working at the front desk what was most interesting to see in Leeds with just a few hours.  Her response was the Armory with a stop at the Leeds Minster.

Why not, we figured.  We started off wandering, first, enjoying the elegant British architecture of buildings on the main street, the town hall, and a couple churches in the middle of town.

Trying to capture the gestalt of a city is hard.  But please take note of the CARS GOING THE WRONG WAY.

Feeling a bit peckish for a snack, we accidentally ended up in a giant marketplace, very reminiscent of Seattle’s Pike Place.  The building was rather unassuming, and then we walked in, and there were smells everywhere of fish, thai food, pies, and varying other street foods.  There were flower shops, cheap clothing shops, odds & ends shops…there was an all-out fabric store!  It was such a wonderful find.

Seriously, this is just the entrance.  It kept going for a square block and a half.  It was bigger than Powell’s!

So with some mussamun curry and pad se ew, we started walking toward the Minster.  And let me say, everything about British churches is different from mainland European ones except maybe the stained glass.  When I think about the Kölner Dom versus this Leeds church, my mind sees very opposite visions of the worship of God.  The Kölner Dom is massive, magnificent, but dark.  It’s all about tall spires, curves, and an overwhelmingly large, dim interior.  It is about the power of God.  The Leeds Minster, and all other British churches I saw, was very rectangular, and while it wasn’t plain in the least, it did not seem to invoke the almighty power of The Church.

Left: See the architecture based on rectangles, rather than tall, spires, as in the Elisasbethkirche in Marburg or the Kölner Dom.  Right: This was when I just needed to take a moment.

The interior was also incredibly light.  It felt like a place to be together and express love of God.  I felt so in awe and joyous being in that church.  Not to mention, the Father wanted to tell us all kinds of stories and point out new additions.

But we were on a mission to see the Armory before we had to hit a train to Nottingham.  And in just a five minute walk, we had arrived.  Quinn’s not the biggest fans of museums, and I have very little interest in humans finding more ways to destroy each other, but it was free, so we figured we might as well. And then we walked inside.  Not thirty feet ahead of the entrance was the most amazingly designed stairwell.

Literally called the tower of steel.

Around the outside of this display you walked to each floor, with different themes.  The first was an interactive history of war that was set up more like an art museum than the random collections of artifacts we’d seen in some other museums.  There was a volley of arrows hanging on the ceiling, spots where you could touch a weapon and it would explain to you how to use it, and beautiful dioramas.

But before long, we had to catch our train to Nottingham.  Having been told by a pub owner, rather wryly, “that it’s a really lovely town,” Quinn and I didn’t have high hopes.

I think, had Leeds not been so much fun, Nottingham would have actually been a lovely town.  But it had an odd air to it that just did not feel very welcoming.  But we knew we didn’t need to be there long anyway, so it wasn’t too bad.  We went to a pub near the hostel (where I got my first pie) and headed to The Maze where we’d get to show off being on “the list.”

Being on “the list” was less impressive than we’d hoped, because it was just “Please let Bria Robertson and Friend in,” but it was still oddly gratifying.  Jerry changed up a couple of his songs—there were only four to start with—but it was a spirited set.  The sets from the other two bands were nearly identical, and probably would have been more fun to listen to had the previous day not ended so late and this one started so early.

Collapsing in the hostel that night was comforting, sleeping in sheets that were a plaid Union Jack, and it only excited me to make it out to Wales and the tiny Whitchurch.