The London Lass: Day 13

So, while I will never call myself any sort of fashionista, I would like to say that I have officially pulled off the blazer-and-jeans look! I felt thoroughly accomplished as I rode the tube in for my Monday afternoon class. I started the week off right, sleeping in, FINALLY getting back on the horse (after the Run of Doom) and having a good run, and dressing myself like a pro. Maybe I could be considered a “Monday person” this semester? That’s obnoxious. I’m just going to throw out an apology now to everyone who has to experience my presence on Mondays for the next three months.

After I got into town, I had to stop by the post office to exchange currency (seeing as my bank has so kindly frozen my accounts for a mysterious reason). Being an econ major, I am quite conscious of checking daily exchange rates and was appalled when the clerk gave me a $1.79 offer. Given the $1.61 rate that morning, I laughed at him and started to walk away. “Wait! Wait!” he yelled after me. “I’ll give you a better rate.”

I was appalled. I looked at him and told him, regardless of any amended offer he could make, I was not willing to do business with a man who preyed upon stupid American tourists who don’t know any better. To my friends back in the US, be aware coming over here. Do your homework (and your math) before you start purchasing in pounds and converting your life to the English system. They measure people in stones (1 stone=14 pounds), sugar content is oftentimes not listed on nutrition labels, and the ovens are in Celsius (if you’re trying to bake a cake).

Class Monday afternoon was quite the adventure. I’m pretty sure my history professor is a straight-up Marxist. In London, the land system is quite different from anything to which we’re accustomed in the States. You see, the land is still technically owned by the historical nobility of England. For example, the vast majority of land in the Westminster area of London is legally owned by the Duke of Westminster. The land all around London is put on different leases by these few and fortunate who have inherited the land itself from ancestors. These leases are normally hundreds of years long and they are bought and sold like land would be in America. After purchasing a lease, a homeowner is free to do whatever he or she wishes on the land and to the home occupying it.

This is a point of controversy in London, as the hardworking people who occupy the land, investing themselves in making it personal and livable, never have a chance to purchase the plots. According to this professor (and, please take this at its source, as I have done no academic research on the matter), Parliament is currently working to pass a law that would force landowners such as the Duke of Westminster to begin selling away this land to its occupants, given said occupants are willing and able to buy it.

To me, the concept of the government forcing private landowners to sell their property on the basis that their ownership of such is “unfair” is completely foreign. But here, this campaign is widely supported and considered completely within the government’s rights. Is this as shocking to you, my American friends? Perhaps it’s just me.

The class could not have ended more beautifully, though. In 1913, militant suffragette Emily Davison walked out in front of the king’s horse in the middle of a large-scale, well-publicized horse race in attempt to draw the king’s attention to her cause. While she wanted only to stop the race, she was actually trampled by the horse and later died from the injuries she suffered. Interestingly enough, the whole event was caught on film.

To add to the story, our elderly professor wanted us to experience the multi-media inclusion. She got herself to YouTube, did a search for the death of Emily Davison, and chose a video from the results at random. The black and white shot was the precise video and, sure enough, as the horses rounded one of the last bends, a woman from within the crowds made her way onto the track. However, just as Ms. Davison was about to be plowed by the racing horses, the video stopped and switched to a video of Ludacris’ ever-so-eloquent ballad, “Move, Bitch.” As we then watched Emily Davison die in slow motion, Ludacris advised her, “Move, bitch. Get out the way. Watch out, watch out, watch out.”

While the respectful thing may have been to help the panicking professor close out the video and end hers and Emily Davison’s humiliation, three of my classmates had already fallen to the floor laughing and I couldn’t see through the tears in my eyes. Because the giggle fits could really not be suppressed after the incident, class was mercifully ended prematurely.

Note: Spanish omelets are a mixture of white potatoes, sweet potatoes, and eggs. I didn’t know how to feel about them, so I applied ketchup generously.