Just a quick post after a hectic weekend, to try to keep my hand in. Hopefully the feature deluge will continue soon.
Had a very good weekend, saw a few people I've been missing (especially the boyf, who I've just realised I'm mentioning for the first time... (it'll be fine, I'm pretty sure he doesn't read this (he already knows what goes on inside my head, pretty much, and prolonged exposure is unlikely to help maintain your sanity (don't say I didn't warn you...)))) and did a lot of shopping (hence a lot of walking, my feet are still sulking) and eating. Stayed in The Godmother's flat in Wapping and played at being a yupple (yuppie couple - further venues for this game include the M&S foodhall and anywhere with a lounge).
Back by popular demand (ok, Lady Zorro (she swashes! She buckles! Her name has a Z in it! (have decided, entirely from laziness, not to think about these aliases for more than about 5 seconds)) said she enjoyed them), more Observations about London Town:
1. CSOs (Community Support Officers (demi-police, fond of biscuits (heard one in Norwich being warned by a mischievous youth that it's a criminal offence to impersonate a police officer))) are apparently not allowed squad cars but can commandeer a bus whenever they feel like it. I was on a bus when this happened. Bemusement ensued.
2. The pink polo is apparently the new Burberry cap for belly-scratching youths.
3. Wheelie suitcases have come the closest of anything thus far to making me believe in the devil. Saw two of them trapped with their owners in the ticket/oyster gates at Waterloo today. Sweet justice!
4. If you stand still for long enough, a queue will form behind you. This happened to me twice today, and rather annoyed an old woman, who apparently thought I had second sight when it came to cashpoints.
5. People don't ask you for directions/jostle you/stand too close to you on the train anywhere near as often when you have a tall, loudly Irish man with you. Funny, that.
6. (Because I'm generous!) The larger the shop, the louder the music. Because nothing makes you buy things like bleeding eardrums. (Nike (I refuse to call it Niketown - it's not that big and doesn't really have much of a variety of products, if you can ignore the creepy ranks of football-kitted mannequins long enough to notice) is a particularly bad offender, and has apparently drafted in several CDs of techno white noise to help people relax into consumerism.)
Right, time for bed. Wish I could have saved up that extra hour for when I really needed it!