Running Full Speed Into Platform 9 and 3/4

So, I started school about a month ago and my life has sort of exploded.  Hence the stupid amount of time since my last post.  My deepest apologies.  To make up for it, I get really nerdy in this post.  Enjoy. And please share your fondest HP memories with me!

Summer, 2006:

I had just gotten familiar enough with London and the tube that I felt comfortable enough to venture out on my own.  And after studying the tube map long enough I figured out that I could go to Kings Cross station.  Wait, WHAT!  Kings Cross station!  The very gate way into the world of magic!  The home of platform 9 & 3/4!  The exact spot where the Hogwarts Express makes Berth!  No freaking way.

Kings Cross was calling my name.  I could see my name scrawled in green ink on parchment telling me that I was suddenly 11 years old again and harboring latent magical powers.  At night I dreamed of owls.  I had to go.  

So I did.

During the tube ride to Kings Cross I was so excited I looked like I was hopped up on Fizzing Whizbees and Acid Pops.  When I arrived, it was nothing like I expected it to, but still just a cool as I had hoped.  My friends and I searched around for platforms nine and ten.  "There it is!"  came a yell and we made a dash to the arched brick wall that held the sign "Platform 9 3/4".  Sigh.  I had made it.  I had fulfilled my destiny.  I knew what I had to do.  I shot forth with a burst of speed...

Summer 1999:

Middle school that year was going to be painful.  I was not looking forward to my ninth grade year because middle just stinks, stinks bad, like a sweaty seventh grader who'd just eaten a bean burrito.  But there I was.  No escape.

About a week into the school year, early August, I came home and threw my backpack on the floor and shouted "No me gusta la tarea!"  It was my second year of spanish and all I remembered how to say over the summer was "I hate homework!"  I was in fine pouting form.  I sauntered into the kitchen to graze and upon the counter I spied a book.  It had been thrown there without a second glance from my brother.  It turns out his bff had given him some new book called "Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone"  I liked books, so I picked it up.  The cover was an art deco kind of weird.  I turned it open and began to read.  The first few pages were stranger than the girly looking kid riding a broom on the cover.  I had to keep going.  I had never read anything that had clamped onto my imagination like that.  Before I had finished the first twenty pages I knew that the way I would look at stories would be forever changed.  Maybe this year wouldn't be so unbearable after all.  I began referring to my math teacher as Snape and my history teacher became Binns.

As the years passed and I waited for books four through seven to come out I made some of the most fantastic memories a person could make.  To quote Jo from the 90's version of the Little Women film "Late at night my mind would come alive with voices and stories and friends as dear to me as any in the real world. I gave myself up to it, longing for transformation"  Ron, Harry, and Hermione grew up with me.  As they began to make hard life decisions, I was beginning to make hard life decisions.  As they were learning about the darkness and light of the world, I was was too.  As they were starting to believe that they could fight the war and save the world, I was starting to believe that I could win my fight on self doubt and save myself.  

(Almost) Summer 2012:  

I there hasn't been a single year since 1999 that I haven't read a Harry Potter book.  I remember the first time read them and the last time I read them.  I remember all the times in between.   Every time I read the first book I remember running full speed into platform 9 and 3/4.  The real one.  I try to forget the fact that I ate brick.  But I will never forget the times I spent with HP.


This is a picture of the real Platform 9 and 3/4 at the King Cross in London.  I love that some worker sawed a trolly in half and stuck it in the wall.  Whoever you are I give 10 points to Gryffindor and a plethora of hugs and kisses for making my nerdy fantasies real.

My BFF: The BBC

Ah, the BBC.  What can I say really?  I love your pretty landscapes, your period costumes, your misunderstood british humor.  You have sucked away many hours of my life and I look forward to many hours of suckage in the future.  Thine only fault?  That us poor chaps in the colonies have wait to many a day to view your splendor before you make it across the pond.  Downton 3 won't make it here till 2013.  Is this a passive aggressive move towards us, Brits?  Hum?  Because if it is, I personally apologize for all that unpleasantness back in the 1700's.  If you decide to forgive us and let us watch your TV on the same days as they are on there, we would be ever so thankful.  So, without further ado: the List.

Top Ten BBC TV Shows:

 10. Berkley Square- I always find stories about nannies fascinating.  I’m not sure if I’m jealous of the rich people or the nannies.  Seriously.  It’s a conundrum. 

9. Foresyte Saga – So disturbing I couldn’t stop watching.  And it has the guy from Horatio Hornblower. 

8. Fawlty Towers- An oldie but a goodie.  I was first introduced to this in one of my film classes in college.  Thank you Mr. Samuelsen. Besides anything with John Cleese is a win. 

7.  Bleak House- I love hours of depressing TV.  It makes the happy ending unexpected. 

6. Merlin- Yes, the special effects look like a low budget Disney channel original movie, but I love me some Aurthurian legend mixed with teen angst.  Score.   

5. Sherlock-  The Moriarty in this version was way creepier than the bland ginger from the Robert Downy Jr. version.  Blah. 

4. Larkrise to Candleford- Honestly, I like this one because papa Timmons reminds me a heck of a lot of my papa. It's sort of uncanny.  If they would only bring Fisher back.  Sigh.  

3. Robin Hood-  My favorite battle cry came from my least favorite character of the show, “Today is a good day to die!”  My sister and I like to yell it at each other from across crowded rooms while charging.”  Thank you Little John.  And the fact that Richard Armitage is one of the main characters should have been enough to validate it’s place at number three. 

2. Downton Abby- Is there anyone out there who doesn’t like Downton Abby?  Seriously, if you’re out there make your presents known because I am doubting our existence. 

1. Doctor Who-  Was it ever really a question that this would be number one?  Last week when my cousin came over to see my sister in her wedding dress my mom made a comment about how my sister gets a special smile on her face when she is in her dress.  My cousin promptly responded with “that’s the look I get on my face when I watch Doctor Who.”  Wedding dress happiness=Doctor Who happiness.  Bless you cousin Jaclyn.  Bless you.  

Top Ten BBC Movies:

10. 39 Stepps- I was not expecting the ending.  I can respect that. 

9. Wives and Daughters- I can also respect a story about bratty step-sisters and a wicked step mother.  Disney got to me.

8. The Way We Live Now.  I like seeing Cillian Murphy in a movie when he’s not killing someone.  It’s refreshing.

7. Persuasion- It’s all about the Captain.

6.  Northanger Abby- Short, sweet, and to the point. Sort of the opposite of Breaking Dawn.  

5. Emma- It’s all just so pretty. 

4.Little Dorrit-  See above comment on Bleak House.  Dickens does it again. 

3. Sense and Sensibility- it may be blasphemous to say, but I like it better than the Emma Thompson 

version.  Sue me. 

2. Cranford-  Greatest collection of actresses ever.  I have never wanted to be an old lady so bad.  I know if Judy Dench just got to know me we would be BFF's.  

1. North and South- once again, two words: Richard Armitage.  ‘Nuff said.  

Now that my views have been forced upon thee, what say ye?  (Ha ha.  I made rhyme.)  But seriously, what did I miss?

The Time I Literally almost ran into Orlando Bloom

Warning: Written very quickly, may contain grammar mistakes.  Please forgive me, Martha.

One of the perks of living in Kensington, a.k.a  the swanky part of London, is that swanky people live there, including my favorite elf and yours, Orlando B.  Throughout my summer in London my flat-mates, as we like to call them in the motherland, would bang open the front door and re-enact thier dramatic encounter with the hunky pirate.  One girl twitched with adrenaline as she described her impromptu football (a.k.a. soccer to the un-schooled yank) game in Hyde Park with the star.

Another group jumped up and down as they told our enraptured group how they skillfully blended in with a fruit stand as they watched Orly eat his lunch at an unsuspecting cafe.  I admit it.  I was jealous.  Second only to J.K. Rowling herself, Orlando was the person I wanted to see most during my adventure in the Great Britain.  After all, it happened to the other girls in my flat, why not me?  Dang it! Why not ME!!  The weeks went by, however, and my Orlando was no where to be seen.  I had given up.  It was a pipe dream.

As my time in London was quickly coming to an end, I began to plan my backpacking trip through the rest of Europe.  I was crazy excited to see the rest of the continent, but also weirdly nervous to leave the city that I had grown to feel safe in.  The continent was foreign in every way possible and as the day came that I had to jump on the Chunnel to Paris, I was so scared I wanted to barf.  I had even called my parents the night before and had a breakdown.  My father calmly reassured me as I bawled like a toddler who had been left at a gas station.

Nevertheless, I packed my bags with shaking hands and began the journey to the train station.  My breathing quickened, my heart rate spiked, my stomach was in knots.  What was I thinking?  I couldn't jettison myself to a place that was full of American hating, snail eating, nude-sun bathing europeans!  I was no longer aware that my feet were still placing themselves in front of one another.  I was going to hyperventilate any moment and pass out cold on the stone street.  Just as this very thing was about to occur I looked up as tried to focus my eyes on something other than the ground.  There was a friendly looking group of men walking towards me on the side walk.

Because I was watching them and not my friend, who was walking in front of me, I didn't see her make a sudden about-face.  In the process of hitting the breaks, I brushed the group of guys who were now passing on my left.  I looked into my friends face to see why she had stopped. We were running late, which didn't do anything for my already frayed nerves.  She looked like she was doing an impersonation of an anime character who'd just seen her crush enter the room.  She clenched her teeth and breathed "Turn around"

I turned around.

And there he was. The Orlando Bloom.

I could have touched him.  He looked like he had just stepped off the set of one of the 'Pirates' films with his perfect amount of facial hair and bewildered look.  Gosh, I loved him.  And was about to say so when my friend, whose brain was still performing basic functions yanked me back into reality.  We were going to miss the train if we didn't haul 'A' to the tube stop.  I started walking again, this time with a dumb smile on my face and not a care in the world.

I was cured!  And Orlando Bloom was my prescription.  The paralyzing fear of navigating the unknown was no longer griping me.  As Bilbo Baggins once said "I'm quite ready for another adventure."  I was Bilbo Baggins, ready to step off into the Grey Havens, or at least something as equally uncharted.

I like to think that the Heavens smiled on me that day.  And if I ever happen to literally almost run into Orlando Bloom again I would thank him for helping a very scared little girl have the nerve to take the biggest leap of her life.

The 3 P's

Lemme' 'splain:

The birth of this blog came about because a good friend once said to me "Hey Erika, you should start a blog on Britan."  and I said "Ok."  so here we are.  

Now that that's out of the way:

1st Post:  The 3 P's of London.  

If I am writing a blog on all things British, it should be obvious that I love England like a fat kid loves cake.  So, for the first post I am going to write about the 3 P's of London, or three things I love about London that start with the letter 'P'.

1st P- Public Transportation-  Ah, my Oyster Card.  The one card to rule them all.  The Oyster card is the magical pass to the wonder that is the London Tube.  I miss riding the Tube almost more than anything in England.  I must admit, that at first I was frightened of you, Tube.  The dire warnings to "Mind the Gap" or else was a bit intimidating.  The endless possibilities of where you could take me where overwhelming.  What if I got on the wrong train and ended up on the street where I'd meet my fate with Jack the Ripper.  But after mastering your color coded maps, I understood.  You gave me freedom! You gave me giant advertisements!  You gave me strange people to sit next to!  

2nd P- Parks.  Having lived in Kensington, Hyde park/Kensington Garden is my favorite place in London.  My flat was across the street from the park and many magical things happened there.  I can honestly say nothing is more peaceful than gazing across the Serpentine at sunset.  I spent many a evenings siting with my good friend, the Peter Pan statue, writing and people watching.  There is a tree in the park that has old fairy carvings.  The atmosphere in Kensington is enough to make you believe fairies could really live there.  No wonder that is the place where JM Barrie would sit and write Peter Pan.  I wouldn't doubt if Kensington was a secret gateway to Neverland.  

3rd P- Performances.  The West freakin' End!  Yeah, so what?  I'm kind of a theatre geek.  I'll save my thoughts on specific shows I saw for another post on another day, but in general, The West End was the birthplace of many of my loves.  Phantom, Les Mis, anything with Ramin Karimloo. Oh, Ramin.  (If you don't know who Ramin Karimloo is, you won't regret spending some google time on him.  The man's got talent coming out of his butt.)

To Sum up:  While I was only there for a summer, London is constantly calling me home.  

Future post to include:  Doctor Who, 2012 London Olympics, My girl crush on Kate Middleton, the time I literally almost ran into Orlando Bloom, My BFF-the BBC, Running full speed into platform 9 and 3/4.

Picture:  My humble flat in Kensington.  I lived on the bottom floor.  Check out Ramin Karimloo's official website at the bottom of the post (I know Ramin is not exactly British, Canadian is close, but he is married to a Brit and has dwelt there for some time now.)

raminofficial.com