Back in Blighty

So, I’ve just returned from the ‘Visa run’ to London, having secured a further two years in the Land of the Free. There’s nothing like ‘standing in line’ for five hours at the US embassy under the cross hairs of a Heckler & Koch MP5 Submachine gun to make you feel…well…free. Still, with the green tape finally re-stuck (one can’t help but imagine it would have been much easier to fill my pockets with fajitas and hop over the Mexican border) I was free to make the most of being back in Blighty. Our quarters – a somewhat sterile flat off Tottenham Court road. Opposite the ‘End’ club, the location was anything but sterile and a lot like mucky. Used needles and empty Special Brew cans cluttered the gutter, creating a rain-faded urban flotsam and jetsam, but that was the best thing about the view. We made the mistake of opening the blinds. A man was squatting, dropping a mud monkey onto the pavement. We closed the blinds. Onwards and upwards, we booked a table at the fabulous Asia de Cuba (St Martin’s Lane Hotel) and were savouring some incredible food when my sister’s eyes suddenly widened with abject horror. We turned to see a man peeing up the window (damn that trendy one-way glass) and when I say we saw it, I mean we ‘really’ saw it, the way when you look at a lightbulb, you keep seeing it even after you close your eyes. Same thing. We got free doughnuts as compensation. Doughnuts? They may as well have given us a plate of frankfurters. What was going on in London, I asked myself. Then the latent entrepreneur in me stirred. Forget youtube.com. What about youpooed.com? People send in pictures of themselves building a log cabin, cooking butt pudding, cutting rope, laying wolf bait, in famous places around the world. L’Arc de Triomphe, Statue of Liberty, London Eye. I can see it now. Unfortunately. Then, thankfully, I pulled back from the brink. We’ve already got Big Brother.

more soon...