Travel Journal - Birmingham, pt. 1

Day Thirteen - Sadly after Oxford came Birmingham. Now, in all fairness to Birmingham, it was between Oxford, which I had felt I didn't have enough time in, and Wales, which I couldn't wait to get to. But in all fairness to me, everyone turns up their nose to Birmingham, and I've since heard it called the armpit of England. When I was at Oxonmoot, I was talking with a man who had written a book about all the Tolkien places in Birmingham, and a few times he said, "You're going alone? Hm...," concernedly, once following it with, "Well, be sure to tell someone where you're going before you head to that one..."
As for lodging, I had been looking forward to what I thought might be the cutest place on my trip. Turns out it smelled like a musty basement, my room desperately needed to be dusted (I ended up doing that), and the cup and hotpot I had been given were dirty. The sheets and towels were clean, though, so I figured I could deal. I didn't like the neighborhood, but figured if I were home before 7 (which I tried to make 6), I'd be fine. Turns out the whole city is that kind of neighborhood, so there was nothing to be done anyway. I spent the first day there kind of moping because I didn't know where to go or what to do (the neighborhood had nothing), and sadly got to the laundromat too late. So yeah, that was my initial feeling toward Birmingham.