Like GA, London itself is an Abbey lurker. Other Abbeys, complete with cloisters and nuns' quarters abound. Every tube stop is splattered with signs letting everyone know the Way Out. I managed to curb my impulsive derring-do to get certain campy photos for my own amusement by the sage decision I made Stateside to wear a skirt for my day in London. This restrictive choice kept me from doing things like climbing on the giant lions at the Queen Victoria Memorial across the street from Buckingham Palace (M&S with the Lion and Unicorn!). But [dramatic pause] they have people who spend their Friday evening as fake nuns, too. At the Prince Charles Theatre at Leicester Square, quite a happening theater district on a Friday night, they hold a more family-friendly "Rocky Horror" type extravaganza known as the "Singalonga" where supertitles allow the audience to perform gleefully along with the musical on-screen"The Sound of Music." Hence the nuns. AnythingForTheShot!AJ was engaged. (I mean, I had gotten a picture seven hours earlier with a reluctant "Beefeater," a Yeoman Warden at the Tower of London, who, when seeing my M&S PIs, said, "Oh, dear. They've been all around the world, have they?" He didn't even smile.)

I staked out a place near the ticket window and waited until I saw a "nun" come by. I asked her if I could take a picture with her. She stared at me weirdly but good-naturedly, and said evenly, "All right, if you really want to." [slight brow furrowing] As she bought her ticket and several others, she asked if I had any friends here to take the picture. I said no, so she walked over to her group of 6 or 7 girlfriends and handed my camera to one. They all started giggling when told my request, and teased my victim, "Oh, you're a tourist attraction now!" and "How much are you charging for those photos?" I waited until the last possible moment to unleash my final embarrassment, when I whipped Armani!Scully from my coat pocket and held her up between the nun and myself. Her friends' snickering instantly progressed to guffaws. Now they knew I was a serious freak. :-) I laughed right along with them, as the photo shows-along with a nun who, unbeknownst to me, hammed it up for the picture like she was one of us!

Exhausted, hungry, and desperate to sit for longer than a tube-ride, that night I searched the vast expanse of Victoria Station, which has subway trains and regular trains in addition to shops and several bus terminals, to find Aderyn's bus arrival gate. Now fifteen minutes late, I came upon a woman outside the Rat and Parrot pub who looked at me hard and enquired, "Is that you?" Not "Is that you, *AJ*?" Not waving a PI or similar secret-handshake-esque symbol. Just "Is that you?" But it was me, :-) so I spread my arms wide and doggedly sighed, "Aderyn!" as I wrapped her in a happy hug (or I leaned on her to rest my feet, however you wish to interpret events). Then, we started talking, and didn't stop for the next seven hours, allowing ourselves a few hours of sleep before the big day.

"What's that nun thinkin'?"
a. HELP ME
b. Could someone tell me the way out? Right now
c. Climb every mountain
d. Well kewl, I just *love* The X-Files

Way back when, I received an email from AJ where she casually informed me that she was thinking of flying over to the UK for the marathon (and more), and what did I think about this. I replied in one of the following ways:

a. Oh, if you must. I suppose it would be okay.
b. NO. Don't do it.
c. You freakin' lunatic.
d. OMG!!!! :) :) :) YES. :) :) :)

I'll give you a clue - the answer is neither A, B, or C. Her imminent visit reduced me to a monosyllabic, emoticon-happy grinning fool. I've since forgiven her, as I had the best weekend evah!!! in her company.

She flew into London on the Friday morning, and I travelled down after work to meet her. I suspected that she was getting up to all sorts in the capital, as she had informed me that she had quite an itinerary - including finding an apartment, a significant other, and a career, as well as the usual touristy escapades. She'd also divulged that her PIs were going to get quite a workout in Ye Olde Londinium town. I could only imagine the kind of trouble she was causing.

Upon arriving in central London I looked around for a Scullyist. It was my first time (so to speak) and I was unsure what to look for. She was not at the allotted meeting place. I checked. A lot. Sometime later I found myself wandering around outside a pub (note to self: Why does this keep happening to me? Must investigate) and there she was! I walked up to her and I asked the rather redundant question "Is that you?" And it was. :)

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