PodOBlog #2

Hiya Dad,

Well, my stomach senses change on the horizon as I’ve clocked more than ten-bathroom visits today. I’ve been wrestling with statistics, hoping it might quiet the nerves about starting the Master’s. My dreams have been unsettling - whispers of doubt hissing, “She doesn’t know standard deviation.”

Thanks to YouTube, Brandon Foltz has marched me through chi-square, confidence intervals, sigma, mu and x-bar. But honestly, Dad, with all these “floating number twos” (mean square included!) and lavatory sprints, I’m wan and whacked out. To break the cycle, I went for a walk, hoping Autumn air would blow some sense into my equations. Instead, every passing cloud looked like a bell curve, and the birds on the lake at Kensington Palace seemed to form dot plots of pure randomness.

There’s another problem I discovered on the top deck of the #9 bus to Aldwych: statistics are really boring. Paul says I slept for forty minutes straight from Knightsbridge to Trafalgar Square - tube strikes again holding Londoners to ransom.

Still, life isn’t all t-tests in traffic. Despite the week’s travel chaos, I enjoyed a fabulous evening with a ballet friend at Cadogan Hall for Ballet Nights. The company offered an eclectic mix—solo piano, piano and violin, flamenco, classical ballet, and contemporary pieces. Vadim and Fumi danced Apollo, which was beautiful. Their partnership extends beyond the stage; they’ve just announced their engagement. Several male soloists and an exquisite duo from Jersey performed with sculptural grace - sinewy, perfectly balanced, a quiet testament to the body’s artistry. I also bumped into old friends from LVB (formerly YDA), Dancia International and my Royal Ballet School TTC days.

During the cab ride home, I thought of all the shows we’ve shared—Moody Blues, Cirque du Soleil, Giselle, and countless Carols by Candlelight—and appreciated again how lucky we are in London with theatre and music on our doorstep.

Damn, raining again. No tubes… TAXI!

Love you,

Pen xx