Firstly - I am alive. Not that I wouldn't be, but I just want you to know that I definitely am.
For any of you who haven't been watching the news, there has been another terrorist 'incident' in London. Viable bombs were found in the West End and on Park Lane. Fortunately the police diffused the bombs and the only effect were some massive delays on the tube and station closures.
I can't say that I was scared, but it was an odd feeling getting on the tube this afternoon. The strange realisation that you were just there on a train and exceedingly vulnerable. It was all just so totally beyond my control. Yet apprehension quickly turned to aggravation and annoyance when I realised that I was going to have to wait 15 minutes for a train from Canary Wharf. And then because my Circle Line train was delayed.
But I can see that these 'bombs' fulfill their purpose. They undermine what you take for granted. They make you feel vulnerable where you live. For a moment. And then life goes on.
Went to the V&A Museum for the Late Night session - it was the opening of London Sing and was fabulous. There was a massive acapella choir who sung songs like 'Cry Me a River' (the JT version) and Music (Madonna). I went to musci workshops with an Indian singer and a Chinese opera singer. I sang into a tube and poured my voice out. it was so much fun - even though I can't sing to save my life. In choir in high school I used to have to sit next to louise Mcleod so I would have any chance of staying in tune. I also had to be a soprano, even though I'm really not, because they get the tune. Anything else was beyond me.
I think, however, my favourite part of the evening was when the giant, colourfully dressed choir stood in the foyer of the V&A and sung 'Let It Be'. Within moments there was a swell of voices echoing around the cavernous entry hall. Amazing.
I wish I was a Beatle. I wish I could have that kind of immortality. I wish wish that it went without saying that half a world could relate to something that I wrote on a whim.
It is 11 degrees in London and fairly disgusting. The country is literally flooding.
Also - Pete Doherty's name is not pronounced how I thought it was. He's also completely humourless. Don't take drugs kids. It makes you a boring asshole.
That's it.
As for the Drowsy Chaperone, I will save that for another day.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Peas in a Pod
What do David Ritter and Tony Blair have in common?
Apart from their Labor Party membership cards, obviously.
Both made the Mr/Ms/Mrs/Miss/Other joke. David in Legal History and Tony (he's not PM anymore so it is okay to use his first name, I am sure) in the House of Commons today during his last PMQ. The House thought it was hilarious and no one tried to make him feel guilty for saying it.
But, perhaps it would have been churlish given that he is now officially unemployed.
This post will only make sense to about 2 people, so I a will post tomorrow about seeing 'The Drowsy Chaperone'. Keep you on the edge of your seats and all that.
Apart from their Labor Party membership cards, obviously.
Both made the Mr/Ms/Mrs/Miss/Other joke. David in Legal History and Tony (he's not PM anymore so it is okay to use his first name, I am sure) in the House of Commons today during his last PMQ. The House thought it was hilarious and no one tried to make him feel guilty for saying it.
But, perhaps it would have been churlish given that he is now officially unemployed.
This post will only make sense to about 2 people, so I a will post tomorrow about seeing 'The Drowsy Chaperone'. Keep you on the edge of your seats and all that.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Brush Up Your Shakespeare
Went to my school reunion for old girls in London on Tuesday night. An interesting experience which culminated in my drinking beers with Jenny Ethell (aka. the woman who 'restructured me out of existence' aka fired me) and Dot in an English pub. It was nice to catch up with Dot - she seems happy in the UK (while missing the Australian weather, but then, don't we all?)
The reunion was okay, the venue was really cute and, perhaps most importantly, I think I have acquired some useful coping skills for my 10 year reunion. It involves drinking more, stalking the food platters and hiding from Alethea, which is pretty much what I did this time around as well.
Friday night I went and saw 'Othello' at the Globe. We had 5 quid standing tickets and, of course, it rained. However, Marianne and I had got there early and were right in front of the stage which meant that we we slightly sheltered from the elements. Thankfully. However, the unfortunte by product of being so close to the action was that every time the actors came near me I thought I was going to get whacked in the head with the swords that were very loosely attached to their waists. I was ducking and weaving all night.
The play itself was awesome, and the role of Iago was played by Tim McInnery (of Blackadder fame - Percy, Capt Darling etc). It was weird to see him play the evil bad guy.
Now, I am not sure how many of you are familar with the ending of Othello, but in summary: Othello kills his wife who he believes to have been unfaithul, Iago murders his wife for dobbing him in about manipulating Othello's jealousy, and Othello kills himself out of guilt ('One that loved not wisely, but too well'). So - there are 3 characters lying dead on a bed in the middle of the stage (which I always thought was farcical, but now realise is for staging reasons).
So - after this very melodramatic final scene ('This heavy act with heavy heart relate') everyone is kind've drepressed. The acting was amazing, you really felt for Othello, the fake stage blood looked almost real. THEN the cast came back on stage and started DANCING!! Not in a sad mournful way, but in a very upbeat and perky way that was emotionally confusing.
Yesterday, I caught up with Amy Thornicroft, who we met when she was a Gap girl. We hung out at a cool Morroccan restuarant for a while and then spent some time on the South Bank. It was fanatastic to see her again and any time spent on the South Bank is time well spent if you ask me. Also - seeing a man with trained budgies who sang a song that went 'I'm the budgie man, bu-budgie man, budgie man, the bloody budgie man' and then tried to get employed as an entertainer at children's parties, was definitely a high point.
Saturday night we went to a restuarant near Tottenham Court Road where they kindly served us cocktails in jugs. THEN I went and picked up Carly at Paddington. This because my new rule states - if you can't make new English friends - import the old Australian ones! Incidentally - it seemed unfair that she looked quite as together as she did given the length of her flight and the fact she was suffering from the flu. I made her get on a night bus to get home (too much of apain to catch a cab on a Saturday night) and left her to sleep until 3pm this afternoon. I then dragged her around today to make sure she was properly equipped for London (Oyster card, A-Z, phone, flu medication) and as I write this she has fallen asleep again.
Such is the life of a new arrival in London.
The reunion was okay, the venue was really cute and, perhaps most importantly, I think I have acquired some useful coping skills for my 10 year reunion. It involves drinking more, stalking the food platters and hiding from Alethea, which is pretty much what I did this time around as well.
Friday night I went and saw 'Othello' at the Globe. We had 5 quid standing tickets and, of course, it rained. However, Marianne and I had got there early and were right in front of the stage which meant that we we slightly sheltered from the elements. Thankfully. However, the unfortunte by product of being so close to the action was that every time the actors came near me I thought I was going to get whacked in the head with the swords that were very loosely attached to their waists. I was ducking and weaving all night.
The play itself was awesome, and the role of Iago was played by Tim McInnery (of Blackadder fame - Percy, Capt Darling etc). It was weird to see him play the evil bad guy.
Now, I am not sure how many of you are familar with the ending of Othello, but in summary: Othello kills his wife who he believes to have been unfaithul, Iago murders his wife for dobbing him in about manipulating Othello's jealousy, and Othello kills himself out of guilt ('One that loved not wisely, but too well'). So - there are 3 characters lying dead on a bed in the middle of the stage (which I always thought was farcical, but now realise is for staging reasons).
So - after this very melodramatic final scene ('This heavy act with heavy heart relate') everyone is kind've drepressed. The acting was amazing, you really felt for Othello, the fake stage blood looked almost real. THEN the cast came back on stage and started DANCING!! Not in a sad mournful way, but in a very upbeat and perky way that was emotionally confusing.
Yesterday, I caught up with Amy Thornicroft, who we met when she was a Gap girl. We hung out at a cool Morroccan restuarant for a while and then spent some time on the South Bank. It was fanatastic to see her again and any time spent on the South Bank is time well spent if you ask me. Also - seeing a man with trained budgies who sang a song that went 'I'm the budgie man, bu-budgie man, budgie man, the bloody budgie man' and then tried to get employed as an entertainer at children's parties, was definitely a high point.
Saturday night we went to a restuarant near Tottenham Court Road where they kindly served us cocktails in jugs. THEN I went and picked up Carly at Paddington. This because my new rule states - if you can't make new English friends - import the old Australian ones! Incidentally - it seemed unfair that she looked quite as together as she did given the length of her flight and the fact she was suffering from the flu. I made her get on a night bus to get home (too much of apain to catch a cab on a Saturday night) and left her to sleep until 3pm this afternoon. I then dragged her around today to make sure she was properly equipped for London (Oyster card, A-Z, phone, flu medication) and as I write this she has fallen asleep again.
Such is the life of a new arrival in London.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
A record store, a humble hole in the wall, could you ever want for more?
Man, if possible, I had forgotten how much I loved record/CD stores. I haven't been inside a proper one since I left home and today I finally had time to go and check out the Rough Trade store near Portabello Road. STACKS of vinyl. Hundreds of 7" records, not too many CDs. And the constant vibe of being judged by everyone else in there - sale staff, customers, the guy who drops off the free papers.
I love the posters that have been up so long that they are beginning to peel off the walls, but somehow this makes the whole thing look more 'authentic'. Rough Trade is similar in vibe to downstairs Dada's - although not downstairs and possibly even more crowded. The staff have to bend underneath the sales bench to get out and look for anything. I managed to pull several CD's to the floor while trying to rescue the one I had dislodged. Eck.
And another thing - 7" cost about 2-2.50 pound. So damned cheap! Even with conversion that is about half the price that I pay at home. I barely managed to restrain myself. I settled for The Shins 'Australia' and Stars 'Your Ex-Lover Is Dead'. Because I had just bought new cons I couldn't quite justify the 5 pound for a Daniel Johnson single (and I thought I would try and pick up something of his when I see him later this month). I swear to God, the stuff in this store seems so extensive compared to Dada's (in 7" any way) that I was about to start selling body parts to indulge. It has also inspired me to go and seek other record stores. I'll let you knwo how that goes.
Went to 'Fifteen' for Alana's birthday lunch yesterday, which was just lovely. Really excellent food (as it was alst time) but at 50 pound a head, you wouldn't want to do this too often.
So I also bought new Cons. This is a picture of them:
It's nice to be back in cons again. I had been missing them since I left home. I wasn't quite sure what other shoes I should be wearing with jeans. And these shoes are pretty much my perfect fashion accessory. Especially given the fact that, despite being made in China (probably by child labour) they have Bono's endorsement because money goes to preventing malaria/typhoid/AIDS in Africa. See - Bono really cares about the African community.
Those little Chinese children can go f**k themselves.
I think I may still be on the wrong side of the ethical line with this purchase. I hate it when that happens. However, I still am still going to rant about the ethical incongruity here. Hypocrite, much? Shouldn't Bono and his ilk only be endorsing products that don't have a history of violating fair labour practices? Nike has long been accused of employing sweatshop labour so I don't know how they can justify partnering with them to produce thsi 'charitable' product.
Yet, again, I stil bought the damned shoes.
Moving on before I start getting really self-loathing for my ethical inconsistency (Bono and I could have a club).
For those of you who love High Fidelity and are in the need of a bit of a giggle, check this out. This is a link to one of the key songs in the new stage muscial version. The song is called 'The Last Real Record Store'. It all sounds so familiar, but is still so wrong.
http://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/highfidelity/thelastrealrecordstore.htm
I don't think that Rob, Dick or Barry would have been huge fans of musical theatre.
And after seeing some of these lyrics and imagining the accompanying dance spectacular, I am not so sure I am either.
I love the posters that have been up so long that they are beginning to peel off the walls, but somehow this makes the whole thing look more 'authentic'. Rough Trade is similar in vibe to downstairs Dada's - although not downstairs and possibly even more crowded. The staff have to bend underneath the sales bench to get out and look for anything. I managed to pull several CD's to the floor while trying to rescue the one I had dislodged. Eck.
And another thing - 7" cost about 2-2.50 pound. So damned cheap! Even with conversion that is about half the price that I pay at home. I barely managed to restrain myself. I settled for The Shins 'Australia' and Stars 'Your Ex-Lover Is Dead'. Because I had just bought new cons I couldn't quite justify the 5 pound for a Daniel Johnson single (and I thought I would try and pick up something of his when I see him later this month). I swear to God, the stuff in this store seems so extensive compared to Dada's (in 7" any way) that I was about to start selling body parts to indulge. It has also inspired me to go and seek other record stores. I'll let you knwo how that goes.
Went to 'Fifteen' for Alana's birthday lunch yesterday, which was just lovely. Really excellent food (as it was alst time) but at 50 pound a head, you wouldn't want to do this too often.
So I also bought new Cons. This is a picture of them:
It's nice to be back in cons again. I had been missing them since I left home. I wasn't quite sure what other shoes I should be wearing with jeans. And these shoes are pretty much my perfect fashion accessory. Especially given the fact that, despite being made in China (probably by child labour) they have Bono's endorsement because money goes to preventing malaria/typhoid/AIDS in Africa. See - Bono really cares about the African community.
Those little Chinese children can go f**k themselves.
I think I may still be on the wrong side of the ethical line with this purchase. I hate it when that happens. However, I still am still going to rant about the ethical incongruity here. Hypocrite, much? Shouldn't Bono and his ilk only be endorsing products that don't have a history of violating fair labour practices? Nike has long been accused of employing sweatshop labour so I don't know how they can justify partnering with them to produce thsi 'charitable' product.
Yet, again, I stil bought the damned shoes.
Moving on before I start getting really self-loathing for my ethical inconsistency (Bono and I could have a club).
For those of you who love High Fidelity and are in the need of a bit of a giggle, check this out. This is a link to one of the key songs in the new stage muscial version. The song is called 'The Last Real Record Store'. It all sounds so familiar, but is still so wrong.
http://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/highfidelity/thelastrealrecordstore.htm
I don't think that Rob, Dick or Barry would have been huge fans of musical theatre.
And after seeing some of these lyrics and imagining the accompanying dance spectacular, I am not so sure I am either.
Monday, June 11, 2007
The Beauty of Days Gone By
Summer is here and the weekend was beautiful!
Absolutely stunning. It was ALMOST 25 degrees and I was boiling hot. As I said to Jano, my already out of whack internal thermometer has gone completely off the rails.
Friday night I went to the Tate Modern with Marianne. She gets a lot of free tickets to things through her job, so we like to exploit that as much as possible. There is a Dali exhibiton on show at the moment which was amazing. His work has so much more depth when you look at it in real life. Despite most of his paintings being smaller than the ginormous prints that people stick on their college walls, blowing up the paintings somehow makes them LOSE detail, as well as any sense of intimacy that is evoked.
One of my favourites was called Solitude:
It was immensely sad but so minutely detailed as well.
We then went and saw Spellbound, the Hitchcock film being played at the Tate. Dali conceptualised the 3 minute dream sequence which was completely surreal (because he's a surrelaist - get it? PUN!).
It was a really lovely way to spend a Friday evening. As we walked along the SOuthbank to catch a train home, we were 'followed' by a barge on the river that was illuminated and had a massive choir on board singing to celebrate the new renovations of the Royal Festival Hall. It was a perfect London evening.
Saturday Marianne and I decided that we would brave the terrible American crowds at Stratford-Upon-Avon, about 2 hours from London. This should not be confused with Stratford without the Avon because this is a borough stuck on the end of the Northern Lin or DLR and should not be visited by anyone unless they want to part with their earthly possession.
Stratford-Upon-Avon was lovely, the Tudor houses were very cute and made me feel very tall. As you went to each site, the connection to Shakespeare became more and more tenuous and you had to just decide that you would just appreciate the 'vibe'. Couldn't find any really tacky souvenirs, because I didn't get a chance to go into the 'Shakesperience' building. No bobble headed Shakespeares to be had, I left souvenirless.
We also had to walk around in circles for a while because I am incapable of reading street signs. Thankfully, Marianne forgave me and eventually we go to Shakespeare's grave:
I'm not really sure it was worth it. The old graves outside with all the moss etc. on them were way cooler, in my humble opinion. And it cost 50p to get into the little bit where the grave actually was.
Sunday was spent eating cupcakes at Hummingbird Cafe and watching Ocean's 13. Tonight I am going to Wayne's house for dinner. He claims to be able to cook anything. We'll see.
And Rom - don't give up on your poor little car! Check to see if it can be redeemed before doing anything silly!
Absolutely stunning. It was ALMOST 25 degrees and I was boiling hot. As I said to Jano, my already out of whack internal thermometer has gone completely off the rails.
Friday night I went to the Tate Modern with Marianne. She gets a lot of free tickets to things through her job, so we like to exploit that as much as possible. There is a Dali exhibiton on show at the moment which was amazing. His work has so much more depth when you look at it in real life. Despite most of his paintings being smaller than the ginormous prints that people stick on their college walls, blowing up the paintings somehow makes them LOSE detail, as well as any sense of intimacy that is evoked.
One of my favourites was called Solitude:
It was immensely sad but so minutely detailed as well.
We then went and saw Spellbound, the Hitchcock film being played at the Tate. Dali conceptualised the 3 minute dream sequence which was completely surreal (because he's a surrelaist - get it? PUN!).
It was a really lovely way to spend a Friday evening. As we walked along the SOuthbank to catch a train home, we were 'followed' by a barge on the river that was illuminated and had a massive choir on board singing to celebrate the new renovations of the Royal Festival Hall. It was a perfect London evening.
Saturday Marianne and I decided that we would brave the terrible American crowds at Stratford-Upon-Avon, about 2 hours from London. This should not be confused with Stratford without the Avon because this is a borough stuck on the end of the Northern Lin or DLR and should not be visited by anyone unless they want to part with their earthly possession.
Stratford-Upon-Avon was lovely, the Tudor houses were very cute and made me feel very tall. As you went to each site, the connection to Shakespeare became more and more tenuous and you had to just decide that you would just appreciate the 'vibe'. Couldn't find any really tacky souvenirs, because I didn't get a chance to go into the 'Shakesperience' building. No bobble headed Shakespeares to be had, I left souvenirless.
We also had to walk around in circles for a while because I am incapable of reading street signs. Thankfully, Marianne forgave me and eventually we go to Shakespeare's grave:
I'm not really sure it was worth it. The old graves outside with all the moss etc. on them were way cooler, in my humble opinion. And it cost 50p to get into the little bit where the grave actually was.
Sunday was spent eating cupcakes at Hummingbird Cafe and watching Ocean's 13. Tonight I am going to Wayne's house for dinner. He claims to be able to cook anything. We'll see.
And Rom - don't give up on your poor little car! Check to see if it can be redeemed before doing anything silly!
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
This is the sound of settling
People claim that they are reading my blog. Never are these claims proved true in the comments section, because everyone claims to be too scared/embarassed/whatever to actually get in there and show me the love. So for a couple of weeks there I got disheartened.
But I am back. With more observations on the workplace and London in general.
Firstly, I would like to discuss chivalry. I am known as a feminist, but no woman is going to say no if a man lets her out of the lift first, or holds a door open for her. Men over here are quite chivalrous, especially in the business district where I work. BUT come home time, when we are all piling on the tube, any semblence of civility is disgarded. Everyone for themself. Man, woman, small child with terminal cancer, all will be crushed under foot in the quest for a seat, or positioning that will later allow you to get a seat. I have learnt to use my free paper to block other's ability to sit in what I would claim as 'my' seat. I even have strategies about where to stand in order to later claim a seat and an ever changing internal discussion about whether it is better to take a leaning position on a 'wall' seat and give up on teh chance of a real seat, or to angle for the chance.
I will lean if I can get the leaning position at the beginning of my trip or at the very end. Anything in the middle - it's all about elbowing my way into the infrequently vacated chairs (everyone gets off at the same stop on the Jubilee line in the morning. It doesn't really go anywhere else but here).
Also - I would now like to mention what I (not very kindly) refer to as Banker Sluts. Friday night is as popular for drinks here as it is at home. I work in Canary Wharf - no one really lives here, it is just full of law firms, banks, finance companies etc. You get the idea. Men and women in suits. So for Friday night drinks 'casual' really refers to the fact that people may have taken their jacket and tie off. Anyway, about 7:30pm women with fake tan, chronically straightened hair, tattoos and tops that show most of their bras (back and front) arrive at the bar. They look out of place and completely different from the other women there who are well groomed, but in work outfits.
Their aim is obvious - pick up a banker/lawyer/man in suit. It is so transparent. I was even moved to say so, saying that they were so obvious no man would fall for it.
I gave men too much credit. Within minutes they were surrounded. I've never seen anything like it. Please don't bother trying to yell at me about judging other women and their choices (I can see mum preparing the takl already). The whole thing made me feel so ill I could barely breathe. Sorry.
It's meant to be summer and today I was wearing a scarf and heavy jacket.
UK Big Brother has started and the house is full of girls (and one boy) who want to marry footballers. Not the boy, obviously. There is even a Posh Spice look alike. You know, because we don't actually hae to endure Posh Spice EVERY DAY without having look alikes.
Went to the Globe last night and saw The Merchant of Venice. It was tops. The acting was pretty amazing, and for only £5. Admittedly, we chose to stand, but it was fine. Except for the fact that we were so close to the actors you got spit on. Or, in the case of one unlucky girl, vomitted on. So yes, it was a supremely cultural experience.
Last weekend I went to the Portabello Road Markets (fairly regular occurence - it's so close) but went into some vintage stores I had never been into before. The prices almost killed me. I don't care how old a dress is, it is SECOND HAND and therefore shouldn't cost £500. I kid you not. Kate Moss shops there apparently. And Posh Spice. Eck. Was meant to go bowling that night, but even at 12pm the line was around the block. So Marianne and I went home. And I had another in a long line of public transport 'quirks'.
Should also mention that I saw Spamalot last week and it was hilarious (despite the fact that I was in the nosebleed section with the little binoculars that you hire for 50p). The Lady of the Lake had an amazing voice. Such a diva. Although hearing 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' out of context was a little bit of a shock to the system.
So, basically what I am trying to say is that I live here now. I have settled in to the London life and I socialise and go out and work and abuse the tube system and moan about the weather the same as anybody else. Even when I am still at work at 7pm or I arrive early to make my group smoothies (don't ask, it makes no sense to me either). I am organising a sailing trip to Croatia and I am desperately trying to stretch my money as far as it will go. It may not sound exciting, but I love it.
Although I am yet to find as many funny, interesting, intelligent, argumentative people in London as I ever found at home. This disappoints me considerably.
But I am back. With more observations on the workplace and London in general.
Firstly, I would like to discuss chivalry. I am known as a feminist, but no woman is going to say no if a man lets her out of the lift first, or holds a door open for her. Men over here are quite chivalrous, especially in the business district where I work. BUT come home time, when we are all piling on the tube, any semblence of civility is disgarded. Everyone for themself. Man, woman, small child with terminal cancer, all will be crushed under foot in the quest for a seat, or positioning that will later allow you to get a seat. I have learnt to use my free paper to block other's ability to sit in what I would claim as 'my' seat. I even have strategies about where to stand in order to later claim a seat and an ever changing internal discussion about whether it is better to take a leaning position on a 'wall' seat and give up on teh chance of a real seat, or to angle for the chance.
I will lean if I can get the leaning position at the beginning of my trip or at the very end. Anything in the middle - it's all about elbowing my way into the infrequently vacated chairs (everyone gets off at the same stop on the Jubilee line in the morning. It doesn't really go anywhere else but here).
Also - I would now like to mention what I (not very kindly) refer to as Banker Sluts. Friday night is as popular for drinks here as it is at home. I work in Canary Wharf - no one really lives here, it is just full of law firms, banks, finance companies etc. You get the idea. Men and women in suits. So for Friday night drinks 'casual' really refers to the fact that people may have taken their jacket and tie off. Anyway, about 7:30pm women with fake tan, chronically straightened hair, tattoos and tops that show most of their bras (back and front) arrive at the bar. They look out of place and completely different from the other women there who are well groomed, but in work outfits.
Their aim is obvious - pick up a banker/lawyer/man in suit. It is so transparent. I was even moved to say so, saying that they were so obvious no man would fall for it.
I gave men too much credit. Within minutes they were surrounded. I've never seen anything like it. Please don't bother trying to yell at me about judging other women and their choices (I can see mum preparing the takl already). The whole thing made me feel so ill I could barely breathe. Sorry.
It's meant to be summer and today I was wearing a scarf and heavy jacket.
UK Big Brother has started and the house is full of girls (and one boy) who want to marry footballers. Not the boy, obviously. There is even a Posh Spice look alike. You know, because we don't actually hae to endure Posh Spice EVERY DAY without having look alikes.
Went to the Globe last night and saw The Merchant of Venice. It was tops. The acting was pretty amazing, and for only £5. Admittedly, we chose to stand, but it was fine. Except for the fact that we were so close to the actors you got spit on. Or, in the case of one unlucky girl, vomitted on. So yes, it was a supremely cultural experience.
Last weekend I went to the Portabello Road Markets (fairly regular occurence - it's so close) but went into some vintage stores I had never been into before. The prices almost killed me. I don't care how old a dress is, it is SECOND HAND and therefore shouldn't cost £500. I kid you not. Kate Moss shops there apparently. And Posh Spice. Eck. Was meant to go bowling that night, but even at 12pm the line was around the block. So Marianne and I went home. And I had another in a long line of public transport 'quirks'.
Should also mention that I saw Spamalot last week and it was hilarious (despite the fact that I was in the nosebleed section with the little binoculars that you hire for 50p). The Lady of the Lake had an amazing voice. Such a diva. Although hearing 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' out of context was a little bit of a shock to the system.
So, basically what I am trying to say is that I live here now. I have settled in to the London life and I socialise and go out and work and abuse the tube system and moan about the weather the same as anybody else. Even when I am still at work at 7pm or I arrive early to make my group smoothies (don't ask, it makes no sense to me either). I am organising a sailing trip to Croatia and I am desperately trying to stretch my money as far as it will go. It may not sound exciting, but I love it.
Although I am yet to find as many funny, interesting, intelligent, argumentative people in London as I ever found at home. This disappoints me considerably.
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