Lori C. comes to visit and I take a healthcare field trip...

It seems my invites for people to join me in London is working. (Mwah-ha-ha-ha...)

Lori hops into London...

Shortly after Casey's departure, I learned of another ol' skool friend who was coming to London for work. Hooray! Lori C., my Long Island friend from UNCC (or uni, as they say here), was hopping across the pond for meetings...and some giggle time with me. It was the first time we'd seen each other in a decade and a half. What fun!

I met Lori at her hotel in Paddington and we were off to Gordon's to get a glass of vino. Lori suggested the Nero d'Avola, which was simply yum. My little haunt was quite crowded that night, so we were bumped around here and there before we decided to move outside to hang under the less crowded, heated tent-ish/umbrella-y tables.

We giggled over date stories, exchanged some relationship talk, and discussed visas and international moves. I learned, for example, that I am, in fact not a cougar as previously thought. Rather, I would be a puma...Who knew? (The difference, for those of you who may not know, is the difference between a woman in her 40s dating a younger boy versus one in her 30s. Good to know...)

Steve joined us soon afterward, and we went for a quick bite of Italian at La Piazza before calling it a night. Lori was surprised to see that the tubes close so early and that transportation after 22:00 is rather reduced...sigh. It's not New York, sister! (winks) We set her on the tube and took our own back to Colliwood.

With Steve's exam hovering over us like a cloud above the Grusomes, the Flintstones' creepy neighbors, we decided to take it easy this weekend. On Friday, I took a break from job hunting and running around for some "me" time, which led me to the somewhat-gruesome-yet-super-interesting Old Operating Theatre museum in Southwark.

The Old Operating Theatre - best healthcare field trip ever

The museum, in the roof of St Thomas' church (which was part of St. Thomas' Hospital until 1862), was rediscovered in 1956 and offers a tunnel back to healthcare in the 1800s in the UK. In addition to the operating theatre, which I've seen only movies with such a thing!, there's also a fabulous collection of surgical objects and descriptions of their use in amputations, trephinations (operations in the skull, a new word I learned), bleeding and childbirth. The experience can be summed up in one word: fascinating.

Who knew, for example, that post-amputations blood vessels were cauterized with boiling oil and hot irons? Who knew the full story behind the development and patent of aspirin? Who knew how pills were made in the 1800s? It was an educational afternoon for me and awfully eye-opening. That is, I'm so amazed at how far we've come. It's almost crazy: if we consider boiling oil for cauterization barbaric -- and that was just 150 years ago -- what will people in a century and a half think of our current practices? We think we're so advanced with our xx-slice CT scanners and our new fancy cancer drugs, but they'll likely be viewed as just as rudimentary to future generations. Wow.

I must note here how incredibly helpful and informative the staff here are. The two heads of the museum not only gave me a rundown on healthcare history in London and the UK, but also provided stories of Charles Dickens and his...um...offbeat habits and behaviours.

The weekend gourmet trend continues...

I popped into the George after my healthcare field trip, to wait for Steve's workday end. Whilst perched on a stool near the window, I overheard three married men talking about their wives. A sentence muttered by one of the guys just cracked me up and served to yet again illustrate the differences in the sexes: "She keeps looking for new recipes for parsnips. They're parsnips, for the love! You roast them!" Giggle...

Steve arrived and we walked down the Thames, as it was a lovely night -- clear, not too cold, not too windy. We walked down the Shad Thames and had dinner at a wonderful restaurant, Le Pont de la Tour, where I had the tastiest beef bourginon ev-ah.

The next day (Saturday), still high off of my dinner and the previous night's parsnips snip, I wandered down to Berwick Market for veggies to accompany my planned Sunday sauerbraten meal. I learned that markets like this are the best place to buy veggies. Not only are they super-fresh, but they're also super-cheap. A bag containing nearly three pounds of new potatoes plus a pound and a half of snap peas cost just £2.30. Love this place. Yum.

I wondered through Soho, up Regent Street and into Mayfair, where I paused for a rest at the Coach and Horses before wandering past Berkeley Square, where the nightingale sings, and back home to Colliwood and the Berry Shoppe for last-minute dinner necessities. What a lovely afternoon!

I made my sauerbraten on Sunday afternoon. Steve popped over as a study break for dinner. After dinner, I noted how I likely should've left the meat in to cook a bit more. Beef here has such a different taste, that I'm not quite sure what, if anything, I can do to bring it back 'round to that which I'm used to. "I would think that it's a bit overcooked," said Steve. "I tend to like my beef a bit pinker..." Um. But not for stew-like meats, I tried to reason.

Maybe I must try harder than originally thought to alter my recipes...sigh...