We had a work day out today. Despite us not being based in London and none of us living in London, we went to London.
I haven’t been to London for a very long time. For context, the last time I went to London they had not introduced the ability to “touch in” and “touch out” on the Underground with a credit or debit card.
My work colleagues went to The Crystal Maze Live Experience first of all, but I passed on that as I suspected I probably wasn’t physically fit enough to take part. A shame, because it sounds like it was fun, but I don’t mind too much. I’m knackered enough as it is!
Instead, I joined everyone for lunch at Covent Garden. We went to an “Asian fusion” place with touchscreen tables that didn’t work very well, and had a selection of Japanese-style tapas. Pretty tasty, though I have been left with foul smelling burps.
I suspect that may have been more to do with the cocktails we had at our next destination, an arcade bar just off Oxford street. This was a dingy basement with lots of blacklight and some great arcade machines, though a few clearly needed a bit of TLC on the displays.
There was a great mix of classic stuff, including oldies like Galaga, Pac-Man and Donkey Kong, along with later large scale stuff like OutRun 2 and all three Time Crises. It wasn’t free play, sadly, you had to buy tokens (£9.50 for 15, and a lot of games took 2 tokens) but the CEO was kind enough to provide us a generous allowance. There were also plenty of consoles equipped with Everdrives and equivalents, and those were free for anyone to play.
It was an enjoyable hangout. A little loud for decent conversation — from the music rather than the machines — but there was a nice vibe, and it seemed to pick up and become quite lively as afternoon turned to evening. The gaming-themed cocktails were great, too, even if they were all at least £11 a pop.
I am, however, as previously noted, absolutely pooped, so now it is time to sleep. I suspect I will sleep well tonight!
Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.
I went to London today. I do not like going to London. I do not like London generally, in fact.
Fortunately, my trip to London today meant that I didn’t have to go very far, as in I didn’t have to catch the tube or the train or the bus or anything like that. We got a coach in (which, yes, did require getting up at 5 in the morning, but which was a relatively painless experience) then were able to walk to where we were going (the passport office, if you were curious) and then walk back, catch the bus home and not have to piss about with Londoners and their attitudes towards other people.
For many, living in London appears to be some sort of ultimate goal, some sort of Ultimate Cool Status. It is, of course, certainly true that a lot of industries make their home in the nation’s capital — the UK video games industry barely acknowledges that any other city exists, for example — but I cannot possibly imagine ever living there. It must be hellish. And expensive. Why would you want to pay a fortune to live somewhere that is hellish?
I had a job offer a while back that would have required me to move to London. I’ve thought back on my career path since then, which has been entirely working from home for American companies, and I wonder if I might have been better off taking that one as it was a more inherently “stable” position. The conclusion I inevitably reach is “no”, incidentally, with a large contributing factor to feeling that way being the fact that I don’t have to live in London. (The others being that I wouldn’t, by now, be living back in Southampton near my friends and with Andie, which are all awesome things in my life that I’m happy about.)
I’ll tell you why I don’t like London. Well, some of the reasons, anyway.
The weather is never right. When it’s grey and miserable, it’s really grey and miserable, and the dirty streets and oppressive, cramped way in which all the buildings are crammed together just emphasises how grey and miserable it is. When it’s hot, meanwhile, like it was today, it’s really hot, and humid, and the thickness of the dirty air from the hordes of cars who inexplicably think it’s a good idea to drive around Central London (hint: it’s really not) just makes it all the more unpleasant to immerse yourself in. Particularly when, yes, you’ve been up since five in the morning.
As I said above, thankfully I didn’t really run into my other London bugbears today as we were pretty much “in and out” — or as close to “in and out” as is possible when riding a bus from a couple of hours’ drive away. For the record, though, said bugbears largely revolve around people who have to be wherever they’re going faster than you getting wherever you’re going. This most commonly shows itself on the Underground escalators, where the left lane is the “dickhead” lane of people who think that barging past people who are often carrying large, heavy suitcases and/or bags will get them where they’re going a bit faster. (Hint: it probably doesn’t, given that when you get to the bottom you all have to wait for the same train.) It also shows itself on the street, where if you dare walk anywhere except smooshed up against a wall, some jerkoff in a suit will come charging past you on Important City-Boy Business and make you — just for one, single, blissful, homicidal instant — consider pushing him into the path of the open-top tour bus that is coming around the corner.
As I say, though, thankfully I didn’t encounter any of these issues today, and instead we saw some ducks, geese and other unidentified (well, someone has identified them, obviously) birds in St. James’ Park. Which was quite nice.
I still hate London, though. Even with its “nice bits”.
Almost a year ago to the day, I posted an entry on this very blog noting that I was starting to feel more positive about things. Of course, things didn’t quite work out the way I planned for quite some time, but for those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter, I’m pleased to report that today, Tuesday June 21, 2011, I was offered an actual job from an actual company. Not only that, but the actual job from the actual company in question represents something that I actually want to do — something that I was beginning to give up hope on. Something I’d given up hope on enough to apply to be a customer service monkey for British Gas — an opportunity which they were keen to pursue with me, but which I thankfully didn’t follow up on. I don’t see myself as a phone jocket. Largely because I fucking hate talking on the phone.
No, this new job, which I will refrain from posting too many details about until I’ve signed various contracts and officially accepted the position, will have me doing some writing in the games industry, though not as a journalist. It’s a role at a software company, meaning I’ll hopefully have the opportunity to be exposed to the process of game development as well as marketing. It’s based in London, too, which is a mild pain in terms of accommodation prices, but quite exciting in that it’s 1) closer to my friends who are still on the south coast 2) closer to my friends who now live in London and 3) it’s London, and I’ve never lived in London before.
From a cursory examination of Rightmove, actually, the area of London that would be most practical for me to live for this job actually doesn’t cost that much more than a shithole like Aldershot. Granted, in Aldershot you probably get a bigger room for your money, but given that I’m effectively “starting over” at level 1 with nothing but vendor trash gear on my back, I don’t mind slumming it in a pokey little flat for a while. After all, the future’s already looking brighter, so better things will inevitably be on the horizon.
This, then, represents pretty much all of the negative status effects I picked up over the last year and a bit being lifted. Now it’s just a case of restoring HP (and finances), acquiring better gear (and somewhere to live) and then the path is clear to level 80.
Or, you know, something less geeky. Oh, sod off. I can express my good news however the hell I want.
So, then, that was today. I start my new job on July 4, so that will be a period fraught with both excitement and nervousness — but the good kind, rather than the “shit, everything is going wrong, how am I possibly ever going to get through this?” kind. Which is nice.
It’s quite amazing what you find right under your own nose sometime. No, I’m not talking about that disgusting green mucous that dribbled forth from your nostrils when you had that really hot chilli earlier. I’m talking about the cool stuff in the place where you live — or in the places near where you live — that you completely ignore because, well, they’re right there and therefore you take them for granted.
I’m specifically referring to London which, if you’re paying attention, you’ll know I’m currently sitting in. London is full of Awesome Stuff, yet if you work here, or spend most of your visits to our nation’s illustrious capital hunting down job interviews, yelling into a mobile phone or attempting to cross the entire city without leaving a Pret A Manger for more than two minutes then you probably won’t notice them.
I went to the Tower of London today. Yes, the one with the ravens and the executions and all that stuff. It’s an impressive structure, and properly interesting to wander around inside, if only because it’s a very old castle that is pretty much completely intact, although they don’t chop people’s heads off there any more. The Crown Jewels are pretty impressive, too — very sparkly, though a bit too bling for everyday wear, to be honest. And the coronation robe looks a bit like a pair of curtains.
The guided tour around the place — a thing I normally hate with a passion, as you inevitably get stuck behind a sweaty German tourist who is sixteen feet taller than you, has a chronic flatulence problem and no sense of personal space — was highly entertaining thanks to the Yeoman’s sense of humour and entertaining mannerisms. He made the stories about various people having their heads chopped off interesting, and gave some interesting context to the relics and antiquities on display in the museumy parts of the tower.
From the equipment on display, we can conjecture that all previous Kings of England were tanking classes, thanks to their heavy plate armour, though many later monarchs favoured the flintlock pistol, including one absolutely massive one that must have been about eight feet long, thereby disqualifying itself from the “pistol” category somewhat.
Interestingly, there was also a P-90 “Personal Defense Weapon”, last seen in GoldenEye 007 on the Nintendo 64 — and in StarGate, apparently. Oh, and a gold-plated sub-machine gun. And a jewel-encrusted pistol that was actually a working thing, confiscated by the police. Kind of awesome, even if it did actually kill someone.
So anyway, this rambling does have a point: if you live somewhere with something awesome (or near somewhere with something awesome) then for God’s sake go and visit it. It’s famous for a reason.
The London Underground is, like most subterranean metro systems, something of a mixed blessing. It allows you to quickly and easily traverse London without having to take your own life into your hands every time you cross a road, but sometimes I wonder if the very nature of the transport system makes it less efficient than it perhaps could be.
Take my journey to where I am right now, for example. (In a hotel overlooking Tower Bridge.) I had to catch a Circle Line train from Kings Cross to get here. In order to get from the platform where my train arrived into Kings Cross to the platform where Circle Line trains departed from, I had to walk for a good 10-15 minutes, including up and down a few sets of stairs and through a labyrinthine series of corridors that the Minotaur would be proud of.
It gets worse if you have to change lines somewhere. Not only do you have to walk all the way to the platform, you then have to get off and walk for another 10-15 minutes to get to the other line in the station, which is inevitably a very long distance away, somewhere deep in the bowels of the Earth.
And then when you poke your head back out above ground, you realise that the fifteen stops you’ve taken have actually caused you to travel less than a mile, and that you can still see your starting point from where you are sitting right now.
Despite all this, though, I kind of like travelling on the Underground. It presents a curious assault on the senses, the likes of which you don’t get anywhere else. There’s the smell, for one thing — and I’m not talking about the pissy scent of a tramp who has collapsed, possibly dead, somewhere in the station. I’m talking about that strange smell you get near the platforms. I have no idea what it is, and it’s probably something unpleasant, but I kind of like it.
Then there’s the sound. Underground trains make great noises. From the vwwwwoooooooo they make when they’re moving to the clackity-clack of running over bumpy bits in the track (fear my technical knowhow of how the rail systems of this country work) to the unnecessarily plummy voice of the automated announcement system, there’s a great combination of sounds.
Plus, if you ever get bored waiting for a train, you can always play the Which Rat Is Going To Get Electrocuted First game, the rules of which I probably don’t need to explain.
It’s my birthday today! I’m 30. Changes of decade are generally assumed to be significant events, but really, once you pass the age of 18, there are very few really meaningful age milestones and the number of years you’ve been alive is just a number. So I’ve been alive for 30 years, and I’ve not achieved many of the things I’m supposed to achieve before you’re 30. In fact, I’ve never bothered to make a list of “things I want to do before I’m 30” and when probed recently, my friends couldn’t come up with many things worth doing that I would no longer be able to do after today. So that’s good.
Birthdays have been something of a non-event for a while. They’re one of those things like Easter and Christmas that cease to have any real meaning after you’ve “grown up”, whatever that means. So I haven’t been expecting that much from them for quite a few years. And, generally speaking, this has meant I haven’t been particularly disappointed — they’ve been pleasant enough, with a few presents, cards and whatnot, but nothing particularly remarkable.
This year’s a bit different, though. Despite the fact that turning 30 is ultimately meaningless, I’d figured it might be nice to do something to remember. And my awesome girlfriend agreed — so it is that we’re currently sitting in a nice hotel in London having just seen Chicago at the Cambridge Theatre, and tomorrow we’re off to Southampton to eat curry, see friends and generally have a good time.
Chicago, for anyone considering seeing it, by the way, is awesome, clever, full of catchy tunes and a selection of fine lady-arses and rippling man-torsos (depending on what you’re into, of course.) Also, most of the cast is inexplicably dressed in their underwear throughout, so bonus.
So this birthday has been awesome for many reasons, not least of which is the fact that my last birthday was just before lots of things went to shit. But the less said about all that the better now, as it’s hopefully been pretty clear from here and Twitter and whatnot that things — while not perfect just yet — are at least on the up and improving.
This is good. I approve of things getting better. And I have a feeling they’re going to continue to improve. My thirties could well be the decade where Good Things Happen. Where I find some sort of “life course”, as it were. Because although I’ve technically had a “career” when I was a teacher, it clearly wasn’t the right thing for me.
So here’s to being 30. It’s been pretty good so far, frankly, and let’s hope it continues to be awesome.
Oh, right, and two rich white people got married today too, apparently.
London is a city of many surprises. A lot of them are “oh, this part of our illustrious capital is a shithole”, but surprises nonetheless. Today’s excursion was no exception.
Following an event I attended which I can’t talk about (yet) we were recommended to head to an area called “Brick Lane”, with the assurance that “if you like curry, you can’t go far wrong”. I like curry, so it seemed like a sensible choice.
I wasn’t ready for what our party was confronted with. Imagine, if you will, the Las Vegas Strip. Now imagine the street is only one car-width wide and one-way. Now, instead of casinos and strip clubs, imagine every single establishment on the street is a curry house. Now, instead of people in fancy uniforms looking for valet parking and/or prostitution business, imagine every establishment has at least one overly aggressive Asian gentleman outside offering increasingly ridiculous deals in order to get you to frequent his establishment. (The best we heard was 2 free drinks and a 95% discount, which led us to believe that even breathing in the food’s fumes would lead to immediate food poisoning.)
It was quite an experience, the likes of which I’ve never seen anywhere else. The whole street was lit up like a red light district, with curry houses hawking their wares with increasingly outlandish neon displays the further down the street you went.
I’ve only gone and forgotten the name of the place we ate at, but it was quite good. We were recommended by someone who knew Brick Lane’s idiosyncrasies to look out for two things: restaurants that were full, and restaurants that didn’t have anyone hawking their wares outside. Sadly the latter was impossible as every place had someone outside badgering people with crazy deals and discounts that I doubt very much they would have honoured come bill-paying time. But the one we picked was pretty full the whole time we were there.
The toilets smelled absolutely awful, though, like a fetid stench-pit from the very bowels of Hell. Fortunately you couldn’t smell them from the eating area. Probably for the best.
So there’s your tourist attraction of the day. In London? Like curry? Don’t mind being harassed by what are essentially curry-pimps? Then Brick Lane is for you.
There are many famous roads in the world. The Champs Elysees in Paris (or however you spell it… I have no idea where the accents go and also have no idea how to type accents on my netbook). That really dangerous road they drove along in Top Gear. Yungas Road. I knew that and totally didn’t Google it.
But there’s one road you won’t find in the tourist guides, but it’s a well-known road to British motorists. It’s a name which strikes fear into the heart of motorists from Land’s End to John O’Groats.
It is the M25, the Devil’s Road, also known as the London Orbital. For the uninitiated (or American) amongst you, this is a motorway (freeway) which runs around the perimeter of London (capital of England) and goes round and round and round and round. In theory, this sounds like fun. Who doesn’t like driving laps around things?
Unfortunately, the M25 is the single most frustrating road in all of Britain to drive on, largely due to the fact that despite it being (sometimes) one of the widest roads in Britain it is also one of the fullest. Particularly if they’re digging it up. Which they always are.
Couple this with the inexplicable “variable speed limit” section (“You must drive at 60! Now 50! Now 40! Now 60 again! Now 70! Go wild! Oh! 50! Got you! SPEED CAMERA.”) and you have a road which is infuriating, frustrating and capable of producing some of the most creative expletives on the planet.
Particularly if you drive on it at rush hour, as I did tonight. And Rush Hour on the M25 lasts for approximately six hundred years and features a time distortion allowing six hundred years to take place in the space of a single day. You could read War and Peace in the time it takes you to get from Heathrow Airport to Staines at rush hour.
So fuck the M25. Fuck it right in its stupid ass (somewhere around the Dartford Tunnel) and find another route. Seriously. If you need to go from somewhere north of London to somewhere that is in a different compass direction from London, then for God’s sake avoid the hell out of London. Because for all its good points, London and its surrounding suburbs hate cars. HATE them. They want them to die. And they think that everyone who drives a car should die too, or at least pay considerable amounts of money for the privilege of driving a car.
Which is probably for the best, given that without the various tolls and “congestion charges” in place, London would be more backed-up than an old, constipated man’s bowels. I mean, more than it is already.
This has been a Public Service Announcement on behalf of the Highways Agency, who also think you should fuck the M25 in its stupid ass, which is why they keep smacking it with hammers and diggers. In, you know, an attempt to, like, get at its ass. Or something.
I don’t know. A 2.5 hour journey took me nearly 6 hours tonight. So my brain is addled. I think it’s time to drink Cherry Coke and scrounge a satay chicken skewer. Good night!
I spent the day in London today. Primarily for a job interview, but I also had the good fortune to run into one George Kokoris and one Mitu Khandaker. Well, all right, we’d pre-arranged to meet. But “had the good fortune to run into” sounds so much nicer, doesn’t it?
Anyway, the actual reasons I was in London are fairly unimportant for the purposes of this entry. I want to talk about London itself.
London is simultaneously one of the most English places you can be, and one of the most un-English places you can be. Many people who come to visit England begin and end their visits with London. Many of them don’t even get outside the city limits of our capital. Which is fair enough; there’s plenty to see there, after all.
But the city has a unique character all of its own that isn’t replicated anywhere else in the whole country. Sure, there are other big cities, but none quite have the same feeling as London.
It’s a combination of things. Not all of them good. First of all, there’s the fact that everyone’s always in a hurry. Everyone has places to be, things to do and people to see that are far more important than whatever it is you’re up to at the time. As a result, God help you if you dare to stand on the left-hand side while you’re on an escalator or travelator, as you’ll probably end up with someone physically pushing you out of the way, as I witnessed happening to another person earlier. And it’s not as if charging down the escalators saves you any more than one or two seconds at most.
Then there’s the traffic. I have a complete phobia of driving in London. I’ve only done it once and have absolutely no intention of ever doing it again. I’m not sure entirely why that is. Again, it’s probably an aggression thing. See a light turn amber in preparation of going green and almost immediately horns start beeping and other drivers start getting impatient.
But on the flip side, there’s the curious little hideaways that the city offers. Just today, near Waterloo, we wandered down an innocuous and borderline scabby-looking side street only to come across a little row of three lovely restaurants bordered by some gorgeous trees and bushes. Stepping into this restaurant was like escaping reality for a little while. The noise of the city was gone, and we were in a land of Thai curries, Lionel Richie advertising Walkers crisps on the TV, and a selection of R&B and soul from the last twenty years. Most peculiar. And an experience that can’t be replicated easily anywhere else.
Somewhere else, somewhere near Regent Street (and I can’t remember where, so stop hassling me and stuff) there’s an awesome American barbecue and grill place that is pretty much a place where they give you an enormous plate of meat, some implements with which to eat it and the possibility of some bread and/or fries, and then it’s up to you how to deal with it.
Then there’s the theatres. Scattered around the place, there’s hundreds of shows to see, things to do, stuff to enjoy.
It’s a bombardment for the senses. And it’s utterly exhausting. But I think, today, I came to appreciate it a little for once. Perhaps it was sharing it with other people. Perhaps it was having a sense of purpose for being there. Or maybe it’s just one of those changes in my outlook. I couldn’t say.
Just remember, though, if you’re visiting England or the UK in general, we have a whole lot more to offer than that bustling metropolis!
Hello! I’m back from a day in London that’s left my feet aching. I really need some new shoes. The revolting sweatiness of my feet has all but destroyed the inner soles of most of my pairs of shoes. Nice. Anyway, sweaty feet and shoes that are falling to bits are not what today’s entry is about.
We went to the London Aquarium, or the London Sea-Life Aquarium to give it its full title. It was Jane’s birthday the other day and she decided a few weeks back that she wanted to come and see the fish. We’d seen some great displays of fish and underwater life at zoos in both Toronto and New York over the last year, and we’d resolved to go and see more things that were a little closer to home. After all, London is a little over an hour’s train journey away, and there’s tons of cool stuff there to see and do, even if you do have to deal with taking your life into your hands every time you cross a London street. That said, it’s no worse than Italian streets, from my limited experience with them. Probably better.
First challenge of the day was, of course, trying to buy a train ticket from the machines at the station. You’d think this would be as easy as selecting “London” as your destination, indicating that yet, you would like to come back as well as go there, and then purchasing your ticket.
No.
Do you want a Standard Day Return? A Super Saver Off-Peak Day Return? A Mega Buster Super-Fantastic Awesome Only Valid For Three Minutes A Day Which You’ve Already Missed Day Return? All of these cost varying amounts of money. If you remember to book in advance they cost different amounts again – considerably less, usually, but that requires pre-planning. Which is, let’s face it, not always on the cards.
Battle with the ticket machine won, we got on the train and headed to Waterloo before walking down to the South Bank to find the Aquarium. For my international readers unfamiliar with London, the South Bank of the River Thames is a pretty vibrant area that always has loads of things going on. There’s a whole bunch of concert halls there which see everything from black tie classical performances to Video Games Live, several museums, lots of places to eat, the London Eye, boat trips, and today there appeared to be some sort of world culture event going on. This was mostly filled with stalls selling food, tat made to look faintly “ethnic” and, bizarrely, what looked like the opportunity to have one’s photo taken with an African man. How odd.
But I digress. The Aquarium beckoned, and Jane had had the foresight to print out some of the 2 for 1 offers on this site, meaning the two of us effectively got to go in for half price. Or only one of us paid. Or however you want to look at it. We went in and immediately discovered that the London Sea-Life Aquarium do not have a very good toilet strategy. There is one toilet by the entrance, along with a sign saying that “The next toilets are 20-30 minutes into your journey” – so naturally, there was a huge queue, even before we’d got in. (Wee-d got in. Do you see what I… oh, never mind.)
The Aquarium itself was great. Plenty of huge fishtanks with lots of interesting fish from all over the world to see, including many from Britain, too, as well as some of the more exotic fish (and other… things) from tropical waters. And, of course, sharks.
I remember someone saying a while back that under the sea is one of the only places on earth where you legitimately get things that you can call “monsters”. And it’s true. There are things down there that would be terrifying to find yourself confronted with. Even the monsters of Lovecraft (themselves from beneath the waves) aren’t that outlandish compared to some of the things that really do exist, particularly in the deep. It’s interesting to see creatures that are just so completely alien in design and function to land-based creatures.
Take a jellyfish, for example. No brain, almost completely seethrough body and four balls that you can see in the middle of its body. Sorry, “gonads”, to use the technical term. (I always find it amusing that “gonads” is a scientific term, particularly in light of this gentleman from British comic history) Weird shit. And certainly not something you’d want to wake up with on your face, for example. And sharks. They have big teeth. Sounds obvious, I know, but it’s not until you see one up close in a big tank with glass windows that you realise quite how vicious those things look.
The other interesting thing I thought about while looking around is how easy it is to look at these creatures and see human characteristics in them. Sharks, for example, look pissed off all the time. Manta rays look like they enjoy flying out and surprising things like ghosts. There were a bunch of fish that looked like they were belming. And, of course, there’s Happy Fish. Now, who knows whether or not these undersea things really are feeling these things that they look like they’re feeling, but it’s certainly fun (or the sign of an overactive imagination!).
The only disappointing thing about the Aquarium was the “Shark Walk”, which is hyped as one of the big attractions there and I was assuming was one of those “glass tunnels” where you walk through the middle of a tank full of sharks. (The promotional picture I have posted at the top of this entry probably went some way to making me think this.) However, what it actually was turned out to be, essentially, the attic of the Aquarium with a glass floor. The sharks were quite a long way below where you stand, and the water was a bit murky. It was very disappointing, but the fact that you could see the same shark tank earlier in the tour of the place with much bigger windows made up for it.
It was a good trip, and I’d recommend it to anyone who, well, likes fish. I believe there’s times when there are proper tours – there was some guy with a mildly annoying voice rabbiting on about sharks as we passed one area – but otherwise you can wander around and read the (relatively simple) information and quizzes scattered around the place. To be honest, it’s quite pleasant just looking at the fish, even if you don’t learn that much.
After the Aquarium, we wandered over to St. James’s Park, which looks just like it does in Project Gotham Racing, only with more people and pelicans in residence. Yes, pelicans. The area in the centre of the park is set aside as a sort of “nature reserve”, with a variety of non-native birds making their home their. There are pelicans, canada geese, other kinds of geese whose name I’ve forgotten and a whole bunch of other things there. Jane freaked out a bit when we noticed there was a pelican on the loose in the main part of the park. It was just wandering around. It wasn’t causing any trouble, but it was amusing to see the people sitting on the grass look around and react with shock, fright or amusement. “OMG WTF PELICANZORZ”, they seemed to say.
OMG WTF PELICANZORZ
Then we had a hot dog in the park, walked back to Waterloo via Trafalgar Square (which is much closer to Waterloo than I realised) and then caught the train home, accompanied by people who don’t know where the volume control on their ringtones are. Now we’re sitting watching The Cube. Well, I’m blogging too. But The Cube is on next to me.
So yes. A nice day. I’d recommend it, as I say, to anyone who likes fish.
