After the over-hyped drama of the last post, I've come back to reality, sort of.
My contract has the longest notice period known to mankind (well, three months) so we're going to be kicking around Londontown for a little bit longer anyway. During the moping that occurred the evening I resigned (I got half-cut after work with a colleague which contributed to the WOE, WOE IS ME, WE ARE LEAVING FOR THE BACK END OF THE KNOWN UNIVERSE session P and I had on the couch), we decided that there are a few things we should, nay, must do before we leave the UK.
|SOUTHWARK PARK, AUTUMN.|
AND YES, I KNOW IT'S SPRING NOW. I DIDN'T HAVE A REASONABLE SPRING ONE ON MY PHONE.
· Tower of London. I walk past the Tower every weekday and yet I have never been. Hordes of tourists though; v. offputting. There are queues I can handle and queues I can't - at the bank, sure, to be expected. To see the Crown Jewels, oh fuck off.
· British Museum. I heart the Reading Room, dimly recalled from a visit at age 19. You know, interesting old stuff.
· Restaurants: MOAR PLZ. P's sole concern is leaving behind the food mecca of Europe. I had to try hard to remind him that we have the opposite type of food-awesome in Aotearoa: fresh snapper caught off the back of the boat on the barbie, which? One of the greatest food experiences known to humankind (humble opinion, etc.). We're supposed to be dining at Pearl in Holburn tonight thanks to a lovely wedding gift from friends (subject to P's burgeoning illness, the symptoms of which have been checked and analysed on an hourly basis: "Do you think it's because my back is out?", "Oh god, my throat hurts like it might be....swollen, or something". I ventured to suggest that P is just always sick and to my surprise P readily accepted my diagnosis. Self awareness, he has it...sort of!).
· Pimms. I need to DRINK ALL THE PIMMS before departure. I know that Pimms is just sexified gin, but really? I love gin too so no problems there! Related news: we're going to queue overnight for Wimbledon tickets this year, hoping to check some centrecourt action. I've seen Rafa pull out his wedgie in person at the US Open, but there's nothing like watching it with a Pimms and perhaps some strawberries and cream in hand.
· Park days. The sun comes out, the Brits get nekkid and sunbathe in the park, consuming tasty treats and iced bevvies. I swear they judge you on the quality and shade of your tartan picnic rug. Only the best weaved basket will do.
· Theatre. For this drama queen? MOREMOREMORE!
· I'd like to go back to the National Portrait Gallery for another wander. It's such a beautiful resource: for a donation, you can wander to your heart's content eyeballing gorgeous, story-filled paintings.
· Columbia Road Flower Market: can't believe I still haven't been! Maybe that's tomorrow morning's task for a few fresh stems for my dining room table - something other than supermarket daffies might be called for!
And so much more besides. I'm sure we will be adding to the list as well as subtracting.
|AND SOON, IMMA BE WORKING ON A LIST FOR OUR TRIP ROUND THE MED AND INTO ASIA. OOOOO YEAH, THE DEEP BLUE MEDITERRANEAN. I LOVES IT.|
PS THIS IS SORRENTO. THAT IS NOT MY BOAT.