My London Itinerary:
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08:00 - Wake up.
09:20 - Get out of bed.
09:30 - Eat a wholesome breakfast of assorted cheeses and condiments.
10:00 - Have a poo and a shower. Not at the same time though.
11:00 - Finish shower, dress in one of my three London outfits.
11:20 - Go back to bed.
12:30 - Go to pub. Have a drink and smoke a cigarette.
19:30 - Sleep.
20:00 - Leave pub. Buy fried chicken wings and consume in bed.
21:00 - Play iPhone games.
00:00 - Sleep.
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It's not always like this though. Only on weekdays. Not that London is lacking fun things to occupy my time, oh nononono. It's just that I've done the things I'd find fun already. I drank bad coffee in all the pretty places, I took the photos and touched the shiny things, burnt through the cobbled streets on the buses and the cabs and once upon a time my motorbike, I went to the museums and exhibits, I did all the touristy shit that appealed to me. In hindsight, I should have gone to the zoo too. And more markets. And not somehow spent as much as I did. Gosh did I blow a lot. I can't have drunken that much cider and mulled wine, or eaten the amount of shitty fried bird necessary to deplete my funds by five grand in two months without dying... It's difficult to convey how expensive England life can be unless you live it for a bit, then it doesn't seem as far-fetched.
By no means was I alone on the tail end of my UK leg. I had Aleksandra from Switzerland to entertain me with her random outbursts for and against London life. And she was great to have around when I couldn't finish my chow due to it being too generous a serve or just plain English shit. It's also nice having someone who knows funny YouTube clips that ye ain't seen before. Many an hour was wisely spent/wasted sitting in front of a fire exit at Clink78 Hostel, on my iPhone giggling at hipster vids, swimming cats, the Swiss version of the Sailor Moon theme song. Yeah, happy memories. Sadly, she went back to her life in Switzerland, with the chocolate and the kittens and the tiny knife-scissor-nailfile thingies. We still keep in touch on FaceBook.
Then there was Megan, one of the first pals I made in London. She moved away from the hostel lifestyle and now shares an apartment with two fantastic Englanders, Jazz and um the other guy whose name escapes me. When you're traveling, it's great to have a friend with a cushy couch and access to all the best zombie movies. AND she knows of a pub that sells pints for a quid fifty. AND she has a cheese-y toastie maker (That I bought her) AND she's Canadian. The downside is that she lives in Greenwich, which is over half an hour from the city and I'm usually far too busy and important to make the trek out there more than once a week.
Then there was Ella. Good ol' El. Miss her. Miss her abuse. We shared an apartment, a drinking problem, and about 200 packs of Marlboro cigs. We played 'Idiot Scrabble' where you make non-words and celebrate with an avocado. We solved all the worlds problems but were too drunk at the time to remember the solutions in the morning. And we walked the streets looking much more handsome than everyone else in London. Sadly, she died. No she didn't, she went back home to Tasmania, which is practically the same thing.
One thing this expensive experience has given me, is a deeper appreciation for the value of money, and a longing for more of it and cheaper countries to blow it all in.
Oh, and a severe dislike for London life.
I know what to do! Quit wasting my fantastic self here and lose myself in India. Will do, will do. Right after the next level of Angry Birds. Ca-CAWWW.
