Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery

Trafalgar Square is one that boasts dignified buildings stood proud and historical as far as the eye can see. It boasts an electric feel of first timers and tradition-goers that are attracted to its turquoise fountain and noble lions. It's also home to the National Gallery.

London is such an encouraging city to live in, particularly for the youth of the population (though you can never be too old to learn). We are reminded about people and places on almost every street: whether that be on plaques that cling onto houses or by the paths that meander through the parks. Our eyes are exposed to both history and the present day in one harmonious setting.

Nothing is more accurate of this description than the museums and galleries alike that are scattered throughout London. I decided, as it was but a stone's throw, to visit the National Gallery.

The National Gallery

Nelson's Column and Hahn/Cock

Exploring the streets in the area (cheeky photobomb by St. Paul's Cathedral)

I wonder if Nelson was afraid of heights

People watching in Trafalgar Square

Charing Cross: the closest tube station

The National Gallery is exquisite. Don't let the bustling pockets of tourists put you off visiting - the crowd is bound to disperse as each person is drawn to different works of art. You walk into rooms that display works of Guardi and Canaletto and others that whisper the story of Lady Jane Grey and her unfortunate fate.

I faintly remember first visiting the National Gallery at the fresh age of 5. My dad had made a tradition of visiting museums as a pair whilst my mum and sister made plans with relatives. We visited The Science Museum and The Natural History Museum - I even remember filling out a form for a year's subscription to the going's on and events!

But the National Gallery was a different story for a 5 year old - it didn't have pieces you could touch and dinosaurs you could bend your neck back in a struggle to see. It seemed quiet and serene and I actually really hated it.

I remember my dad picking me up and trying to point to 'interesting' features of paintings like the sour-faced gent in the corner on one knee, or the baby that was completely naked. I remember pretending to be interested, but I also remember becoming increasingly fed up and agitated at all this information that my father thought was fun. I recently asked my dad about the trip and although it felt like hours, apparently I didn't even last 50 minutes.

Shame, I thought, as I studied The Stone Mason's Yard and squinted to see the expression in the labourer's faces.

Shame, I thought, as I stood opposite Philip IV of Spain, suddenly becoming aware of my poor posture.

Shame, I thought, as I struggled to think what my dad would have thought of the crowd of people in Pablo Panini's work that waited on the lottery draw.

I wish that as a 5 year old I could understand what he was talking about and question him about his feelings instead of him trying to keep me interested when I'd float towards the chairs in the middle of the room.

I'm glad I took the time to re-visit, and maybe even see it as my dad did back in 2000. 13 years have passed since and the generations continue to repeat - I saw a child drawing on the paper map of the museum whilst the adults waltzed around and thought, 'that would have been me had my dad given me some paper!'

I hope she visits again a decade or two from now, and I hope she realises what I have. Although it's a peculiar setting to be in, it's almost too quiet and you are bound to have an awkward 'where do I even stand' situation, the percentage of interesting is almost incomparable to anything we teens today can vouch for.

But maybe it's not for you, and that's okay - maybe you're into robots or stuff that moves or music or food, even. And I'm sure there's a museum for that too.

L.

(Here are a couple of links to museums that are completely free - I hope someday you too are able to enjoy them: The V&A, The Natural History, The Science Museum, The British)

How To - Play It Cool (Mellow Methods)

I've recently been faced with the realisation that not all boys that take your phone number will actually call you… shocker.

Years of reading dating columns from glossy magazines that belonged to my sister did not actually prepare me for the harsh reality - I don't know whether this was because I was completely naive and unexperienced or because, no. I do know. It's definitely because I was completely naive and unexperienced.

So, ladies and gentlemen, facing the 'real' world of crowded, stuffy pubs and letting people into my "personal bubble" in clubs, concluded in the inevitable happening - I gave out my phone number for the first time.

But now, less frigid about letting people know my number, (what are the chances I've actually given them to it correctly after a few drinks??) I've finally gotten the 'why hasn't he called me?' bug. Ew, right? My 12 year old self would never had guessed.

Anyways, back to the point  - stay fresco, amigos.

1. Don't believe that 'DON'T TALK TO HIM FIRST' bullshit. Let me remind you of the amount of guys that are mind readers: 0. They're not psychic. We all know that the dating game rules say 'let him make the first move', but what's that gonna lead to? Maybe you do, you lucky thing, get a guy who's intentions are wholeheartedly to call you - but spare a thought for us ladies that aren't so fortunate. Text or call him between a 2 - 4 day period. Don't wait for things to happen to you - make things happen.
2. Do be enthusiastic, but do not act as if you could care less. Having a monotonous attitude is unattractive in ANY aspect of your life, and should be avoided at all times! Don't play it so cool that you get frozen out. 
3. Don't tweet about it. I drunkenly tweeted about a guy that I met on a night out and received an almost immediate warning text informing me of what I'd just done. I like to stuff that mistake into the 'rookie error' pocket of my life. It gives the impression that all you're doing is thinking of him, and how, Lord tell me, do you explain it to your friends if he doesn't contact you?
4. Do tell somebody, though. If nothing comes out of it, at least you had the thrill of the possibility. It's supposed to be fun, not a gruelling game of 'It's A Knockout'. 
5. Don't let one experience prevent you from doing it again. Just because Jacob turned out to be a d*ck doesn't mean that Luke will be the same!

But remember that it is your phone number and treat it like your packet of gum: you can hand a couple out, but don't f*cking tell everyone.

L.

Long Time, No Post - London Life.

I apologise whole-heartedly for my absence to the 3 people (including myself) that actually read my blog, haha.

It's been a bit of a crazy couple of months away, and now that I've settled into London life, I think that blogging is definitely something I should take up again.

I'm currently at King's College London (if you care), studying English Language & Communication. I genuinely feel like London is the place to make things happen, and if I don't tell people (never mind if it is only the three of us - I need to remind myself sometimes!) what great things are happening, then I'm sure I'll regret it. Hopefully it will encourage you to go out and venture into unknown territory - permission granted, of course.

To start, I hope you had a lovely Christmas and will have an even better New Year.

I overheard a lady saying that 'New Year's was just a reminder that time was ticking on'. It is, lady with the charcoal grey peacoat and a fierce opinion, but I like to call it the 'bittersweet beginning'. It's the time of year to start sentences with 'remember when'. It's the time of year to float between the 4 digit numbers we stamp on the top right corner of our pages. It's the time of year to get excited about life again, before your schedule catches up with you.

Because let's be honest, who doesn't have a schedule? And even if you scoff at the idea of being controlled by something you willingly organised (be that a job, a degree, the magnet of the blue website heckling you to reblog images of The Fault in our Stars etc.) our lives always, always, always, follow a relentless pattern.

Anyways, like I mentioned before, my life has been switched up in terms of the patterns - I now zig-zag between dormant vehicles blocked up on Oxford Street and tessellate between the masses of tourists in Leicester Square. The smell of celebrities is fresh and exciting and I can literally TASTE the Chinese food from Covent Garden.

It's a city I'm blessed to live in and actually see between assignments and lectures, and I couldn't be more grateful it came at this point in my life.

I think that many people think about doing things, but how can you be content thinking about spending the whole day and possibly meeting Jennifer Lawrence at the Catching Fire premiere, when seeing her in person iS GUHREAET.

(oh hey mate, thanks for signing my book.)

And I know that not many people get the opportunity to do this, but I just wanted to share this tidbit of my life.

I guess you could call me Jenna Hamilton (minus the weed and I'd NEVER ditch Matty Mckibben, c'mon) - this is my life journal.

Next chapter - you are mine, Laborious London.

L.