Kabbalah of Forgiveness

Level 1 – The Insulted King

Level 2 – Whose K’tegors are these?

Level 3 – Be Part of the Process

Level 4 – All in the Same Boat

Level 5 – Release the Anger

Level 6 – Who Makes you Lunch

Level 7 – Building a Fence

Level 8 – Maintain a Core of Love

Level 9 – The Scapegoat

Level 10 – The Hook

Level 11 – Do More for Those Who Do More

Level 12 – Family Tree

Level 13 – The Moment of Inncocence

Summer School – Day Before

Tomorrow I am off to the Slade School of Art, for a week long course on collage. Given that collage is essentially sticking one piece of paper on another, one might wonder if a course is really necessary, especially a course that is in Central London and costs an arm and leg. Well, probably not. But I love a good collage, so here I am.

The Slade, part of University College London, is located in Bloomsbury, in the heart of London. The school was founded in 1871 through the bequest of Felix Slade – a wealthy art collector from Yorkshire – and is noted for providing equal educational terms for men and women from its inception.

While on the course, I will be staying at one of the Student Halls of Residence. The students have gone for the summer, so the University has rented out the rooms to visitors. It might not be the Ritz, but it is an affordable way to stay in Central London; plus, the bonus for me is, it’s on campus.

When I arrived in London this afternoon, it was pouring with rain. By the time I got to the Hall of Residence my clogs were swimming with water (see travel posts for my I have such ridiculous shoes) and I was soaked to the bone. It was a relief when I finally arrived, and I was pleasantly surprised at how lovely it was. I checked in at the front desk…at least, I tried to check in. To my horror and that of the reception fellow, I wasn’t on the list. All I had was a little receipt saying I had paid my money. He kept asking if I had definitely booked and I kept saying yes, yes. I tried not to get stressed as I unpacked my suitcase right there in reception, in an effort to find the booking confirmation letter I hadn’t brought with me. As a last resort the fellow looked on the lists of other Halls of Residence in the area and, sure enough, there was my name on the list for a Hall down the road. As soon as I saw it, I was like, oh yeah, that’s the Hall I booked.

The fellow was very gracious, considering I nearly gave him a heart attack. He gave me directions to the Hall I was actually staying at, but I didn’t listen to a word he said, as I was too busy apologising and packaging my suitcase. Consequently, it took me half an hour to find the Hall that was 5 minutes away. Nonetheless, I eventually arrived and, although it isn’t as nice as the Hall I tried to stay at, I was relieved to get here. The room is quite tatty and smells of teenager, but there is a lovely tree outside my window and the gentle hum of traffic on the rain soaked street below, reminds me why I love city life.