The sparkling waters of Geneva gave way to low leaden skies as soon as I crossed the Channel and touched down in deepest darkest Sussex. The gloom thickened as my train clanked inside the M25 and finally the drizzle dampened the streets of West Hampstead where I was met by my friend Caroline... previously whom I had last seen in a sun-packed Canberra. Up Finchley Road past old landmarks we crawled to a late dinner of proper English Indian takeaway.
Pleasingly my relatively good run with the meteorological gods continued as my only full day in London town became increasingly bright and tropical. It was pleasant enough for an M&S sarnie on the grass at Embankment, while over the other side of the Thames, the kids were playing in the fountains and the beaches were looking positively Bondi-esque?!
On days like these one typically takes in a pleasing stroll along the South Bank, which has developed much in recent years and seems even more snazzier than when I was last living in the national capital. Some of the old things remain the best though, including the Anchor pub, which has been down on the banks of the Thames for several centuries already and ideal for a quick shandy.
Later in the day I was meeting up with the good old folks from TNS Social UK, and it was a lengthy stroll over to Holborn, passing many iconic red phone boxes which seem to be all the rage with these tourist types you know. A few warm ales of the English variety followed at some old boozer, just like the old times with the exception of a few more grey hairs here and there!
Pleasingly my relatively good run with the meteorological gods continued as my only full day in London town became increasingly bright and tropical. It was pleasant enough for an M&S sarnie on the grass at Embankment, while over the other side of the Thames, the kids were playing in the fountains and the beaches were looking positively Bondi-esque?!
On days like these one typically takes in a pleasing stroll along the South Bank, which has developed much in recent years and seems even more snazzier than when I was last living in the national capital. Some of the old things remain the best though, including the Anchor pub, which has been down on the banks of the Thames for several centuries already and ideal for a quick shandy.
Later in the day I was meeting up with the good old folks from TNS Social UK, and it was a lengthy stroll over to Holborn, passing many iconic red phone boxes which seem to be all the rage with these tourist types you know. A few warm ales of the English variety followed at some old boozer, just like the old times with the exception of a few more grey hairs here and there!
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The next day, propelled by lunch from a classic greasy spoon, it was time to head north, to Lancashire, The North. The main event here was the wedding of Melita and Geoff and a rare beautiful golden orb bathed the wedding in warmth and light witnessed rarely in these parts. Of course, I was thanked several times for bringing the sun with me from Australia!
The next day, propelled by lunch from a classic greasy spoon, it was time to head north, to Lancashire, The North. The main event here was the wedding of Melita and Geoff and a rare beautiful golden orb bathed the wedding in warmth and light witnessed rarely in these parts. Of course, I was thanked several times for bringing the sun with me from Australia!
Besides the wedding I spent a good deal of time down in classy Lytham with two former housemates of mine (before they were evicted by Big Brother), Jenn and Ollie. The day after the wedding was more like normal, spent indoors for a large part watching the more obscure Olympic sports as the rain teemed down. For dinner, we visited a fish and chip shop seemingly endorsed by Gordon Ramsay, though if I were you Gordon, I would seriously **^%&* *@#** **”#@***. Another slight disappointment was the new Batman movie, what with his annoying voice and absence of coherent plot line, but it was nice to sit in a comfy chair and avoid the wet and cold. Highlight of the day though was reserved for a drive down Blackpool prom, watching skanky hen nights tumble from one dire place to the other, poor kids spending their summer holidays in a yellow plastic cagoule, and marvelling at pea brained skinheads strutting their guts. Eee ooop, lovely.
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