Some Beautiful Words About My Habit of Accumulating Masters (Degrees, not Men); A Ridiculous Farewell at the Rex Whistler Ending in a Lost Ring; A Funny Flight and Then a Funny Tour with Flower Girl and Wife of Flower Girl

I received wonderful and touching words about my embarking on yet another Master’s degree.

He: With a fair wind you should be making the record books with the oldest student to achieve more MAs than any other person in the known world..Good blogging

Me: Thank you so much! A good and gracious end – and we have ended. Thank you for this end. The best to you – may your skies be blue, may old father time never be unkind. etc. etc. etc. Bye. Alexis

But backwards in time to the farewell lunch at my Rex Whistler Restaurant at the Tate Britain. It began with a glass of wondrous champagne on the house which was consumed with pleasure. I did a selfie video and put it on Instagram for the world to see. I did cry, but tears of joy, not tears of sorrow. I had so much fun – ordering all vegetarian food and watching Matthew faint in disbelief as I am known for my hatred of vegetables. I almost finished them but I was forgiven the total consumption before being served the cheese plate. Cheese is real food, vegetables are not. So the staff gathered for the farewell speech. I thanked everyone copiously which shall be the word of the day. It is an adverb: in large quantities: I was drinking copiously. And also in an expansive or wide-ranging way: his book is copiously annotated with references to the current debates.

But somehow, and goodness knows how I began to plan marriage number four which would take place at the Rex Whistler. The tables would be cleared – Simone and Matthew would give me away and the music was chosen, Pomp and Circumstance of course. There was general hilarity at the concept – the groom was chosen but he will have to think it was all his idea, not mine and the staff at the Rex Whistler. That is going to take some work, I guess on my part. So almost reflexively I removed the engagement ring from my left hand. I wear the engagement ring from the second marriage in an attempt to ward off men. It does not work, not has it ever.

Me: Dinham: What effect does this ring have on you?

He: It is like a red flag to a bull.

Honest to goodness that conversation took place in the British Museum in May of 2016. So I took it off and put it on the little finger of the right hand. Later I went to the loo etc. etc. All of a sudden I realized the ring was missing and went running into the restaurant.

Me: Matthew! The ring fell off my finger. The engagement ring, the expensive one!!

He: It is probably in your purse. Do not worry it will show up.

Me: Do you think it was some sort of omen. Like I was going to get a new engagement ring.

He: Perhaps.

Well the ring has not shown up. I send Matthew emails as he said he would ask the staff to look for it.

Me: So I went through the purse and the ring is not there. I will keep looking in pockets and stuff. But I am ok and I do think it might be an omen but even if it is not I do not care. Rings are stupid anyway. I am now eating a sandwich delivered in my room – a vegetable club – I do no jest! You have changed my life. The vegetable club and all. Do NOT worry about me, I am fine. Perhaps ringless but fine. Damn I am funny. I think funnier than you. Please share my wisdoms with your divine staff.

He: (No response as yet!)

The next morning a cab was called and off I went to Gatwick, having a fantastic clarifying conversation with the cab driver. I got a make over (with champagne) which was Instagrammed. Then suffered the horrors of the airport and claimed on board and came to Iceland. But here is this bizarrely interesting factual story. I went on a Golden Tour of Iceland on the Friday. A couple on the tour had been on the flight.

He: I know you, You were on our flight. You were entertaining the whole plain with your laughter.

Me: Really!! How strange is that? Where are you from?

He: Southampton.

Me: I know Southampton that is where the Titanic sailed from.

He: That is right! There is a great museum in our city.

Me: Good. I will come and visit when I am living in London this fall.

He: Good!

Well he and his wife and I talked and talked and talked. He has agreed to be the flower girl for the wedding. He is bald so he will wear flowers in his hair. He has to crawl on his hands and knees so that he will be appropriately short. He can wear pads on his knees but he does not have to wear a dress. I am able to compromise. His nickname is Flower Girl. His wife’s nickname is Flower Girl’s Wife. Did we EVER laugh. The bus stopped at a fantastic hotel and I had the buffet and a couple of glasses of wine. It shall be the venue for one of the weddings. We set the date, May 29, 2019, May 29 is my birthday. All I have to do now is find the groom. Happy Hunting, Alexis. Quite honestly, it is not going well.. I am laughing so hard.

I bought this super funny book written by an Icelandic man by the name of Dagson. It is the funniest book I have ever read. I include two cartoons.

Now I am going to get up, have some breakfast, retrieve my wallet (sad story that). I am going to do an Instagram about Trump. I think to the Art Gallery where I may sit with the art. Then to the airport and then to Vancouver. In Vancouver I shall be met by Vino, the taxi cab driver. We have worked it all out. I texted a certain man upon my departure from Vancouver.

Me: I have to warn you I have a devastating effect on men. My taxi driver just texted me at the airport saying he wished he was traveling with me. I was not always like this.

He: Lol I’m not surprised.

Oops is all I can say.

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