I am not going to see it in all its glory, but I’m at the Halloween capitol of Europe.
(Death with a King keyring, in honor of my 6th GG, Thomas M. King, born in Derry on 8 April 1695, who emigrated to the Pennsylvania colony)
I got to Derry on Saturday, after securing what was likely the last room in the city (though it’s across the river, in “Waterside”).
The Derry Halloween festival was running all weekend. The city is decked out, but I have to say I felt out of place being dressed for the season Sunday: only the kids were done up that day.
My festive wardrobe was more appreciated at the conference yesterday, where I gave my paper on Juan of the Dead.
Today, I’m just in my low-key Gaiman’s death get up, sadly, when some of the other adults in town have decided to join in.
My body just isn’t up to more. My IBS has been wrecking its havoc, I had to use my cane a bit already, and I’m definitely coming down with something.
After grading this morning, I managed to go out and get something to eat and hit a store for some provisions in case I can’t leave my room tomorrow: storm’s a-coming!
(What?)
A storm WITH A NAME is coming!
(Like a hurricane?!?)
Yup! Exactly like a hurricane. And since it’s a UK hurricane, it has a name I’m not sure how to pronounce: Ciarán.
The storm is a “danger to life” to Southern England–we’ve got an amber warning here, which means flooding (not a kidnapped child, like in the US).
So: difficulty walking + no cabs at all because of the crowds + cold weather + my cold + my lungs still not bouncing back after COVID + cold weather- and cold-induced asthma + an upset stomach + a typhoon or whatever = me not being out in all the festivities tonight.
(a totally normal decoration to have on a bridge)
All I want are hot toddies and bed, but getting my hands on whiskey at a store has been surprisingly difficult (WTF, Derry?1?!). Thank goodness there’s a pub next door.
Happy Halloween!
(Death with a scarf from Vanessa & a glass of verdejo)
