Well this has been a few weeks in the making and clearly in the planning since April this year, but it started like this…
I haven’t peed since just outside salisbury. I’m now in west sussex 3hrs later and bursting. #
Yes, that was about 11am, bearing in mind I had left Bristol at 7am that morning and travelled the somewhat long route via Somerset, Wiltshire, Hampshire and finally West Sussex country side. And trust, there is ALOT of country side between the lot of them!
Collecting foreigners. (@ Gatwick airport) #
Obviously Gatwick is a pain in the arse, the ShatNav takes you to one place and leaves you to fend for yourself in a completely unsign posted nightmare of tossbaggery, when you need to piss like it’s going out of style this adds extra excitement to your life. But no matter, I found my bog and my friend Kira in the end! About 35 minutes (this may or may not stand up to the ASA) and £18 in blasphemous train fares later we arrived at London Bridge.
We then toddled off to the YHA at St. Paul’s to stay in our flash three bunk private room which was a couple quid cheaper between the two of us than spending time with smelly London hippies. Good times.
Well, I say good times, that’s the last good times we had once we actually hit St. Paul’s. Turns out God and « shit loads of stairs » tend to go hand in hand, we smashed our feet up nigh on 1000 stairs to the Whispering Gallery, then up to the nice view outside, before the torture of the Golden Ring.
I pulled something out of a jammed printer that looks a lot like the painting in front of me. (@ Tate Modern w/ 8 others) #
After tormenting my sole(s) we crossed the Wibbly-Wobbly Bridge over to the Tat(e) Modern which was full of junk I could have shat out in my spare time and sold on to idiot art collectors for a tidy sum (clearly customer service isn’t the industry to be). Once the mocking of the city folk had officially commenced we moved on to be raped and pillaged at a local establishment which took my Visa Debit card for a right old whore taking needless extra pounds for a mere pint of London Piss. Clearly, this shook up my West Country standards on drink prices and contained no cider.
We of course did the London thing and walked around like we knew what we were up to in a valiant attempt to avoid a good old city stabbin’ and eventually made arrangements to meet up with the famous @aybekay he took us to a cafe in Leicester Square which had a bit of a reputation for poor customer service, which was a bit unfair seeing as I got even worse out of Tesco Westminster. We had a wonderful time, we discussed all things quaintly British like the Ipswich killer, that taxi guy who shot people up in some pretty northern place and Mr Moat who had a bit of a spree to our non-local friend. We of course had to reassure her these things didn’t happen much as we as a country like to shank each other with sharp objects rather than being all American gangsta.
After we left @aybekay to his musical we arranged to meet up with some other conviently-in-London-Canadian-types at a combination of Ku Bar and G-A-Y. A few drinks were had my my poor debit card was being bummed from behind the bar (no lube) for the 15th time that day. This day closed and then the bank holiday Monday was thankfully over….