Clearly, after a harrowing one-on-one tutorial on how one's writing is broken and needs fixing, the best remedy is pie and a pint. Clearly! Lucy and I thought so, anyway. Did you know I've never had a pie before? I mean a proper British one, with like... meat inside. We have pot pies in the States, but how often do you guys eat pot pies? Like never? And now my most recent memory of pot pies is the pilot of Grimm, where the wolf-man/kidnapper/pedophile(?) asks his most recent kidnappee if she would like a pot pie and she replies, "I want to go home!" So thanks a lot Grimm, I now associate pot pies with abduction and pedophilia. (Not even sure if the wolf guy was a pedophile, but he did seem the type.)
British pies aren't pot pies, though (I tell myself in a consoling whisper), so we went and got some pies. Lucy brought us to this pub, Chef & Brewer, which was in an awesome old building. Since every single old building is amazing to me, I had to take photos, but as I was doing so this guy drove up and started questioning me about why I was taking photos and whether I was with the press. Turns out he was the owner of the pub. "Uhhh," I said, articulately, "I just think the building is cool?" He seemed satisfied, but I was so freaked out because I thought he was going to say photos weren't allowed or something and then I would have cried a thousand tears. I blame my honking DSLR; the thing makes me look like I'm on an artistic mission every time I take a picture of something stupid like the sign for Dead Man's Hole. Which, admittedly, can be a good thing: I look like a photography student instead of a tourist. But still. Embarrassing.
Apparently they have the option of flat beer in England, you guys. I know. Flat beer. I asked the guy at the bar what was a good light beer (they don't have any beers I'm familiar with, since I'm a hipster who's used to Oregon microbrews), and he asked if I wanted a flat beer or a "lively" one. I went with a lively lager, because who doesn't want their beer to be lively, which turned out to be Foster's. It was pretty good! I guess it's Australian? Good job, Australia. I guess. Lucy got a Crabbie's, which is alcoholic ginger beer, you guys. (What the hell is ginger beer, you ask. I know, I didn't know either until I had to buy some for Shaun when she got all nauseous on Oxford Street, but it's basically ginger ale, as far as I can tell.) I think next time I'm gonna be drinkin' the Crabbie's. They also make a mulled ginger wine, which I need.
You guys should be jealous of our pie and pint experience, which definitely made up for the fact that I received a B on my writing submission instead of an A, and that I have no idea how to write in the way that I want to write. At least I've had a venison and merlot pie. Yeah, venison and merlot! There was also steak and ale, or some other one that I didn't read properly, but the venison and merlot turned out delicious, and the mashed potatoes and veggies were good too. Or "mash" and "veg" as they would say here. Ha, words.
Behold the glory of the venison and merlot pie. Look how bland it all is!
No clue what that awful face I'm making is all about.
So that's pretty much all I did today, aside from getting Starbucks, buying tampons, and making myself ill after eating a ton of my mom's chocolate chip cookies.
Before I go, though, check out these boats we saw! England has such cool things!