europe in numbers

  • Pictures taken: 2428
  • Tube stations visited: 22
  • Times we went the wrong way on the tube: 0
  • Times we looked the wrong way on the street: all of them
  • Swarthy Italian men hitting on me in Harrods: 1
  • Pub visits: 5
  • Bottles of still water with a splash of fruit enjoyed: 15 or so (that stuff is awesome)
  • Viral infections: 2
  • Dirty looks my boobs got: 17
  • Salacious looks my boobs got: 9
  • Orders of chips eaten: 8
  • Bags purchased (don’t look at this Ed): 4
  • Times Cleo drew blood: 3
  • 5am taxi rides: 2 (goddamn many)
  • Swearing at Google Maps for showing the British Museum as being at the location of the British Library: 59
  • Offers of cuddling on planes: 1
  • Pity meals served in pubs: 2
  • “The End is Nigh” signs seen: 1
  • How much we loved London: 7 million
  • Foxes seen: 1 (they’re like British raccoons!)
  • Pairs of tights I purchased in the end: 9
  • How much I disliked the small horrible child sitting in front of me on the plane ride home: 40
  • Men in Paris riding a 50cc scooter with a cigarette hanging out: 1
  • Stereotypical snooty French waiters: 1
  • Times peed on the top of the Eiffel Tower: 3
  • Mega souvenirs bought: 1
  • Old women I nearly pushed over on the ET because I had Metrotown Rage: 3
  • Che Guevara posters for sale on the Seine: 6
  • Times accosted in the Paris train station by annoying young women shoving petitions in our faces: 28 (they were fucking everywhere)
Good times.
Back to regular content tomorrow!

BONG BONG BONG

friday in london

Friday was our last full day in London, which was depressing for a number of reasons. We didn’t want our trip to be over so soon, and there was so much more we wanted to do .. but we decided to make the most of our time and headed out (slightly later than we had on previous days; Paris wore us out).

Our Friday plan was to have a proper Full English Breakfast, then hit up the British Museum to eyeball some more history. I also wanted to pick up some more tights (shut up), so we tubed back to Covent Gardens for tights and plates of beans. I personally skipped the beans in exchange for additional mushrooms, and gave Heather my bacon for her sausages. I had sadly discovered earlier in the week that British bacon did NOT agree with my insides, so I wisely passed it over so I wouldn’t spend the next several hours with a bad stomach ache. Sated and full of beans/meats, we consulted the internet and made our way to the closest station to the museum; King’s Cross.

If you’re familiar with London, you may have  noticed something really wrong with that last sentence. In some sort of dastardly Machiavellian plan, Google Maps decided to give us fantastically wrong information about the location of the museum; telling us it was by King’s Cross and not three blocks from the damn place we ate breakfast, in Covent Gardens. For some reason, Google shows the British Library as being the British Museum – and while books are awesome and stuff, we didn’t want to be there. We lost several hours on the snafu, but it wasn’t all bad: King’s Cross is the location of Platform 9 and 3/4, which we found on the way to the Not Museum:

domo is off to fight dementors!

We figured out the map issue, swore at Google Maps a lot, then made our way back to where we started; finally arriving at the British Museum. Luckily, the two museums we were planning to go to were open late on Friday nights, so we sat outside for a bit to rest our feet and people watch before going inside.

The British Museum was incredible. After staring around the Great Court in awe, we made a beeline for the Rosetta Stone and the Egyptian exhibit.

great court is great

You can easily spend days upon days in the museum (and you should – it’s free!), but the website has guides for 1 and 3-hour tours that take you through the highlights. We did the 1-hour tour, and while Heather and Renee admired the artifacts and history, I took pictures of nudity:

ancient roman wang!

bathing aphrodite!

ANCIENT GRECIAN CENTAUR PUNCH

In addition to admiring all the old stone wangs, we also saw mummies, the Japanese exhibit, incredible pieces of religious imagery and jewellery, and so much more. We bought some souvenirs at the gift shop (including my favourite new bag ever), then set off on our next adventure: a late lunch, and the next museum.

The Victoria and Albert Museum is open until 10pm on Friday nights, and unbeknownst to us, is THE hot spot for London’s hippest people. We felt drastically out of place among all the beautiful ones, but quickly forgot our awkwardness when we looked at the exhibits within. The V&A might be my favourite place in the world, and I desperately wish we had more time to explore – as it was, the 3+ hours we spent wasn’t nearly enough.

the john madejski garden at night

a mosaic within a mosaic

more old timey wangs

and one in green just for fun!

 

the building was damaged during wwii

london why are you so pretty

If I lived in London, I’d explore every inch of the V&A. We got to see the Power of Making exhibit, lounge on the giant carpet field in the Raphael room, the amazing sculptures and mosaic pieces .. and for every stunning exhibit we walked through, there were four more that we didn’t have time to see. Even looking at the V&A website is making me sad, because I’m realizing just how much more there was to look at – I need to go back to London. Who’s with me? Let’s go!

After valiantly not buying the entire beautiful gift shop, we sadly headed back to the house to pack our bags – it was time to go home. The cab was called for 5am, we frantically traded suitcase contents to come under the baggage limits, and went to sleep after an amazing week in London.

heather, renee and kimli

oddly specific

I was reading comments when I saw this out of the corner of my eye:

how odd

It’s not that someone was searching for that particular set of words – rather, that they searched for the entire thing. It’s the middle section of the last story on this page. Why would you search for it word for word? Did someone (other than me) memorize the story for hilarious times? Very strange, and still funny after all these years. Gooey cheese fingers! HAH!

There seems to be a mistake – I have to work today. That can’t be right, as I am a millionaire playboy who has adventures for a living. Why does everyone insist that I am just a lonely drone with a notepad and a picture phone (whose nectar is a collection of transgressions and subversive flaws)? Damnit.

 

on paris

domo, you so international!

The tower itself was awesome. There are multiple levels that cost multiple moneys for you to climb, but we had purchased our tickets in advance and had full passes to go up to the top. And we did! We spent a goodly amount of time up there exploring and marveling over the epic views of the city:

paris as far as the eye can see

Paris itself is beyond immense, and kind of scary – I’m not used to that much urban sprawl, even if it dates back 400 years or so. It made me feel very lucky to live where I do; I don’t think I could handle the congestion of Paris for very long.

We made the most of our time on top of the tower. They had a Champagne Bar up there for people to buy incredibly expensive glasses of champagne to toast themselves way up high; I think we all ended up taking pictures for tourists while they posed on top of the world. I didn’t have any champagne myself; I had a bottle of Diet Coke (from London; Paris has Coke Light ewww) and happily drank that instead. Surprisingly, there’s a bathroom on top of the Eiffel Tower – so we all gleefully peed on the tower, and I graffiti’d just a little tiny bit (shhhh):

don't tell on me! (click to big)

We bought some cheesy souvenirs in the Eiffel Tower shop, then headed down to find our bus – we were off to the Notre Dame to soak ourselves in history!

The ride over on the bus was a little insufferable. We decided to stay in the bus this time instead of sitting up top because we were freezing (and Heather was sick – she came down with the flu that morning but was determined to soldier onward), and we were joined by a very loud family from the US. The three kids were obnoxious and the parents couldn’t care less – and, after the middle child asked for the fourth time in a row, the father told him that “Don’t Worry Be Happy” was written by Bob Marley. We tried our best to tune them out, but they were very shrill in addition to being somewhat ignorant and we were glad when they got off at the Louvre. We continued on the bus until we got to our second big destination of the day: the Notre Dame de Paris.

more like notre daaaaaaaaaaaamn am i rite

I’m fairly certain you can guess the adjectives I’ll use to describe the Notre Dame, but I’ll do it anyway: amazing, breathtaking, awe-inspiring, humbling. Also, pictures were allowed inside so that was an added bonus. It was just incredible inside, and we spent hours admiring the stained glass windows, sculptures and holy relics inside. I’m just this side of being an atheist, but it was beautiful in there and I feel privileged for being able to see it in person. Our pictures won’t do the inside justice, but here are some anyway:

So cool.

Drained from everything we had seen that day, we spent some time wandering along the Seine to collect our thoughts. It was then I realized I had forgotten to get a miniature Eiffel Tower to bring home, and decided to get one from a cheesy souvenir shop along the river. There were several to choose from, but I went with the one called MEGA SOUVENIR figuring that if I was going to get anything, it had best be MEGA to truly capture the magnitude of our trip – and with that in mind, I got this:

there are souvenirs, and then there are MEGA SOUVENIRS

It is a thing of beauty; exactly like my photos and memories of the tower. *sniffle*

We had to be back at the train station for our 9pm trip through the Chunnel, so we hopped on the terrifying Paris Metro for a few stops. We were famished, so we went outside and picked the first restaurant we saw at random: the Paris Nord Cafe, featuring the snootiest waiter in all of Paris!

He was a stereotypical dream – so snooty! So full of disdain for we silly North Americans! So rude and abrupt! We were slightly disappointed that we had not seen a single mine or baguette in all of Paris, but our Snooty Waiter more than made up for it. We ate dinner, splurged on dessert (creme brule, crepes and apple tart) and made our way back to the train station for the two-hour ride home.

So, what did we think of Paris?

As beautiful as the sights were, the city itself was scary. We had been utterly spoiled by London being so amazing, and Paris in contrast felt really crowded, dirty and congested. The traffic was terrible, everything was filthy from exhaust, a lot of the city was undergoing repairs, and huge 5-storey ads for luxury goods were plastered on every surface. Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely glad we went to Paris .. but whereas I LOVE London and am giving serious thought to applying for an ancestry Visa, I don’t feel the same urge to return to Paris any time soon. I am just not worldly enough for France, I think.

Next up: our last full day in London :(

notre domo!

renee heather and domo at the louvre

the paris opera house - my favourite building

cloudy over the notre dame

plane words

I feel I need to preface this update with a disclaimer: if I sound at all bitter, it’s not because of our trip – rather, it’s because I’m writing this in hell. Our plane is completely full and highly uncomfortable. I’m surrounded by children, and the woman in front of me is an entitled recliner (SHE has a BABY so everyone must cater to her needs) and I’m typing with a keyboard/iPad in my sternum. It fucking sucks, and there’s nothing I can do about it until we land in 5+ hours. I HATE FLYING!Okay, back to the fun stuff. I tried awfully hard to keep a current record of our adventures and did quite admirably for the first couple days. The last three, though, were 6am to midnight affairs – and by the time we got home I didn’t have the energy to breathe let alone make with the words. So, I apologize. When we’re back in Canada, I’ll be going through my posts again and adding pictures where appropriate .. so, you know, it’s not like there’s no effort. It’s just rather delayed.ADVENTURE!

On Wednesday, we had a plan: a visit to Marks and Spencer. I don’t know what the North American equivalent to M&S is, but they used to be in Canada and both Heather and I fondly remember visits to the store when we were but wee. There’s a store at Covent Garden (which is NOT Covenent Garden no matter how many times I called it that), so it was our first stop of the day. We didn’t know that Covent Garden was a big shopping area, but we certainly weren’t put out by the idea at all.

M&S is even better than we remember it, as Canada never had the vast expanse of delicious food options available like the UK does. Everyone purchased gifts for themselves and family, and Renee convinced me that tights might be a good idea (especially after spending the previous two days showing all of London my underwear slash frosty box). It was windy and bloody cold (but brilliantly sunny), so I reluctantly agreed that I would cover my vagina and legs but would not wear pants: tights it was. I bought several kinds and hoped for the best, muttering all the way.

Wandering followed, with more shopping. Unfortunately for Heather and Renee, I found a Doc Martens store and tried on everything in sight. Ultimately though, I decided against buying boots – the only pair I really liked I know are available online, so I’ll just get them from Amazon via Suttles Postal Services if I decide I want them. I did, however, check something off my “want from London” list – I bought a gorgeous black Doc Martens/Cambridge Satchel Company bag. Squeeee! I’d wanted to get a proper English satchel, and this was two birds one stone blah blah blah. Hooray! Well starved at this point, we went in search of food and decided upon a highly rated Indian place just up the street. It wasn’t exactly a takeaway curry place, but we did curry it up (and we had to share, because it was dreadfully expensive). Since we were in shopping land, we did more of that after lunch: Forbidden Planet (nerd goodies) and Cath Kidston (sorry Heather). Shopping done, it was time to get our culture on so we went to St. Paul’s Cathedral.

droooool

We had to walk through the Occupy London protest to get to the Cathedral, and it was a damn good thing we decided to go on Wednesday – the protest caused the cathedral to actually close on Friday; something that hadn’t been done in 400 some odd years. Heather would have been devastated if we didn’t get to see SPC. Luckily, we were able to get in and we spent almost three hours gaping at history in awe. Heather and Renee braved the first set of 171 stairs to get to the Whisper Gallery, where you can whisper to each other along the curved walls of the dome. I stayed on the ground and guarded the bags, because I could barely walk at that point – but I got to people watch and submerge myself in old, old, old things. The Cathedral was stunning – photography wasn’t allowed, but we managed to sneak a few pictures. I was actually planning on being all respectful and junk and not taking any pictures at all, but I saw Heather do it from way up high in the Gallery so I decided I would misbehave with her. I took a few shots with my iPhone, but nothing obtrusive – I just needed some additional memories.

i stole that other clock. shhh.

seeeecret photo

The three of us walked downstairs and explored the crypt, slightly startled that the cathedral staff appeared to be locking the doors behind us everywhere we went. A service was starting at 5, so they were trying to round up the tourists and get them out in a timely manner. I understand it, but being locked in a crypt is fucking creepy no matter the circumstance. I don’t recommend it.

this wasn't really working - i didn't hear any beeps

We had just enough time to get ourselves back to Wandsworth for our evening plans. Heather has been a part of an online community for over ten years, and took advantage of our being in London to meet up with some people she’s e-known for ages. Wandsworth has a pub called the Spread Eagle, and being the classy dames we are, we decided we HAD to go there for drinks. Unfortunately, when we got there we realized that it was a pub in the truest nature of the word – they didn’t serve food (and we were starving). Our pleading looks and obvious touristness must have worked, because the barkeep took pity on us and fired up the panini press to squash some sandwiches together for Heather and Renee. I admit I was fully grumped the fuck out at this point, and didn’t WANT a sandwich or a stupid stinky pub that had no food and had decided that I would stick around to say hello to Heather’s friends, then bow a graceful exit to get myself some food. Seemed like a good plan, so I steeled myself for some hungry pleasantries before I could make my escape.

i tried, damnit

We were meeting three people at the pub: two of Heather’s friends, and a wife of one of them. The couple arrived just after seven, and introductions were made: Heather’s friend Macsen and his wife Naomi, who .. wait a second ..

I KNEW HER. Just as I used to be PMS-DeeAy, she used to be PMS-Naomi/Jade: we were both in (the original) Clan PMS, the first all-female Quake 1 team that started in Victoria. Heather’s friend, who lives and works in Europe and she knows from the internet, just HAPPENED to marry a girl from Anacortes Washington – a girl I used to hang out with online in game and IRC, and at the occasional party. Of all the weird small world coincidences – we travel 7500 km from home, and I see someone I knew a lifetime ago in Victoria. Holy shit! Iiiiiiiit’s a small world aaaaafter all, it’s a smalllll smallllll world.

Clearly I didn’t want to leave the bar for food at this point, so I hung out for the evening and enjoyed catching up with Naomi and meeting her husband and Rudy, Heather’s other friend. It turned out to be an awesome evening – I’m so glad I decided to stick around. Plus, new friends! Hooray! We had to call it a night far too early, though – we had a train to catch the next morning, to PARIS!

The cab came at a ridiculous hour, and we were whisked away to the international train station at St. Pancras. We boarded the Eurostar, kicking some people out of our assigned seats (we booked well in advance and snagged a table for four; some random tourists thought they were awfully clever for getting such great seats because they didn’t realize it was assigned seating). We did have a guest in our happy quad: a French business man who promptly fell asleep and stomped on my feet many times. I too crashed out briefly, with leaves over my eyes to simulate darkness. It’s probably for the best that I slept on the train ride; I got panicky if I thought too hard about all the water above us as we rode under the English Channel. The train ride was just over two hours long, and we lost an hour as we arrived in Paris. At last! Gay Paree! The City of Love! Insanely Crowded Pollution Town! Yay!

he didn't snore, but he did kick

I found myself a lot more intimidated in Paris than I was in London – probably the language, as I felt the same in Havana. It’s one thing to explore a city where most people will understand you if you need help; quite another to be in a place where you’re basically illiterate. My grade school Quebec French would be of no use here unless I needed to find the bathroom ham in the library; I had to rely on a map and wits alone.

Our first stop was to get some Euros from an ATM, because we really had to pee and the bathroom cost money. It was our first experience with a pay toilet, and as it was an enormous pain in the ass to come up with 70 Euro cents, we made sure to pee for all we were worth. From there, it was time to find our Bus Tour. Paris!

Paris was .. interesting. I don’t know if it’s because we were having SUCH a good time in London, but we collectively found Paris kind of underwhelming. It was impossibly crowded with no open spaces, and really dirty. Everyone smokes, the cars and scooters constantly belch exhaust, and there was litter everywhere. Landing in the center of Paris meant we spent most of the bus tour stuck in traffic and finding it hard to breathe. We decided take the tour right to the Eiffel Tower, as we had tickets for 2pm. Along the way, we saw so much history!  My favourite hands down was the opera house; the Palais Garnier (at least, the side that wasn’t covered in huge ads for luxury goods). Still, our first sights of the Notre Dame and Eiffel Tower were breathtaking (though that might have been the exhaust) and it was maddening to pass within spitting distance of the Louvre and know that we wouldn’t be able to do it justice with the few hours we had.

if only we could have been in you

Getting to the Eiffel Tower took a really long time, and we were crazy hungry when we finally arrived. We only had twenty minutes to spare before our tickets up to the tower, so we dodged the multiple 3-card Monty stands to queue up at a kiosk selling food. We ordered French Fries because it was the easiest to eat, and waited for our turn to climb the tower.

the red thing is an elevator

(that’s all you get for now – the horrible woman with the horrible child in front of me reclined her chair to the point I could smell her shampoo, so I couldn’t type anymore. remainder of our Paris adventure and our last day in London coming tonight!)

coming soon: words

I haven’t forgotten you, internet – but our last three days in Europe have been 6am – midnight affairs, and I haven’t had any time at all to write about the amazing things we’ve seen, done and thought. Luckily (hah) for you, I have a 9-hour stretch tomorrow with nooooothing to do but write words and be incredibly uncomfortable in an airplane seat – I will catch up on words then. Of course, they won’t actually get posted until I get home on account of there being no wi-fi on Cheapy McPoorPerson Airlines, but know I’ll be thinking of you during our 18-hour journey home.

And coming next week: pictures. So very, very many pictures. Hooray!

tuesday tuesday

Tonight I will not stay up until midnight then expect to not be a zombie the following morning. I’m getting the hang of this!

Today in London we:

  • Saw the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace
  • Littered (unintentionally) at the home of the Queen (okay, only I did that)
  • Delittered at the home of the Queen as soon as I could
  • Discussed the frostiness of my box at the Palace – it was not a good day to have worn a dress
  • Walked the length of Constitution Hill
  • Waxed brief poetry at Hyde Park
  • Ate an amazing lunch at a hidden pub
  • Wandered some picturesque back alleys
  • Marveled at Big Ben up close and personal
  • Took a boat tour on the River Thames
  • Explored the Tower of London
  • Made an offer on the Crown Jewels (was turned down)
  • Took a million pictures
  • Picked up random foods for dinner eatin’ from Marks and Spencer; wept at the deliciousness/low prices/non-processed foodiness of it all
  • Planned out our Wednesday
  • Went to bed at a somewhat decent hour

Zzzzzz.

random london day 2

I had forgotten that pollution in the UK is much worse than at home – multiple times noses were blown, only to discover the contents were now black with soot and grime. Ewww!

In direct contrast to the icky imagery above, one particular part of yesterday was surreal – it felt like we were in a movie. We had just gotten off the train and were walking down a long, gleaming tunnel to our connection; the air hazy with .. steam? A smoke machine? Magic? A man with a beautiful voice and a guitar busked along our path; his music echoing throughout the chamber like an ethereal post-production soundtrack. We walked 3 abreast in misty slo-mo silence down the tunnel, internally marveling at the fact that we were a million miles from home in a land we only knew from Dickens and Blyton – this was real yet so unreal, and there was no other place we wanted to be.

At least, that’s what was going through MY mind – for all I know, the other girls were singing the Meow Mix song in their heads. My inner monologue runs more melodramatic than I usually let on (mostly because it’s hard to write about dongs in flowery Harlequinesq prose without using the words “turgid” or “meat baton”), but the situation called for more romance than usual. It’s okay once in a while. If I start dreamily waxing poetic about laundry or shoes, it’ll be time to rein myself in.

There are SO MANY scooters and motorcycles in London! It’s amazing (look at them all!) and enviable (I wish I had Lola here) and hilarious (HAH they have to wear a giant L, much bigger than the L/N in BC) and infuriating (they drive like jerks – so much lane splitting) and cozy (everyone wears a riding skirt to keep their nethers warm). Squee!

We are stuffed from lunch, but have made an executive decision to order dessert. It is essential to have spotted dick while in London – the curved dick we’ve had in Canada just doesn’t count.

We made Heather order it, as she was the most likely to do so without giggling. She did admirably – Heather is excellent at spotted dick!

monday monday

The sheer exhaustion that led us to bed at 8pm on Sunday night had us awake and excited at 6am. Heather cooked breakfast, and we planned our day. We ultimately decided that taking a bus tour would make the most sense, as it’d give us some history and a way to get our bearings. Full of eggs and bacon and coffee/Diet Coke, we left the house and set off on our first official London adventure.

We took the tube into central London, ending up at Trafalgar Square. Many pictures were taken, and H braved an iconic red telephone booth that was made of pee. We had some glorious weather, and we spent the morning more or less giddy at the fact that we were in FRICKIN’ LONDON.

national rejoicing!

H and I braved the top the sightseeing bus, which made us regret the decision to not bring jackets in addition to our sweaters. R, being smarter and not as laden with cameras as we were, wisely sat under the heated bus covering. The tour we took was a long one, but it was awesome – the guide was smooth like silk and told us a great deal about what we were seeing. The day clouded over and the wind picked up, but there were so many things to look at so we sucked it up and shivered while squealing and swearing the whole time.

this booth did not smell good.

London is incredible. We saw SO MUCH on the tour, and we barely made a dent in our list of things to see. I don’t know how we did it, but we found ourselves at Big Ben at the stroke of noon and marveled at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. We saw the Tower of London, went over London Bridge (which I am pleased to report was not falling down), St Paul’s Cathedral, enormous parks, Buckingham Palace, the Eye of London, all the history ever, and so much more. Tomorrow will be even better, as we’ll actually go TO these places and not just see them from afar – but even afar was spectacular. So much awesome.

squeeeee!

We were starving at this point, so we hopped off the bus and had lunch at the Sherlock Holmes Pub. R went for a steak and mushroom pie, while H and I enjoyed some fish and chips. Mushy peas: I am not a fan. We walked off our lunch and found ourselves on the tube again: we were going to Harrods. We discussed it over lunch, and it was determined that I was wearing the most decent of all the outfits I had brought to London with me – so if we were going to do Harrods at all, we should do it when we had the greatest chance of my falling within the confines of their dress code. I’m happy to report that my boobs were NOT an issue, and we made it into Harrods (with ten thousand other tourists) to gawk at the sheer opulence of it all. I’ve never really been in the market for things that cost in the tens of thousands of pounds, but if I ever am, I know where to go. We did pick up some souvenirs for ourselves and others, and we went gasping outside from the seething throngs of tourism that Harrods, although iconic, seemed to contain.

this store was frightening opulent.

Ironically, we had all missed Occupy Vancouver due to our travels – but we DID get to Occupy London, so we’re feeling a little closer to the rest of the 99%. Also, we didn’t spend thousand in Harrods. That helped.

We were all getting a little grumpy with soreness at this point, but instead of resting or eating, we continued on our way. A visit to the Lomography Store was in order, and it was amazing (and so expensive). We stumbled upon Ed’s Diner and onto Carnaby Street, which is apparently THE place in London to shop (if you are an incredibly rich hipster). We did wander into a few shops for some minor trinkets, then tubed back to Victoria Station to bus back to the house; utterly worn out and with extremely angry feet.

this was as close as we could afford to get

Tomorrow we’re gonna try to catch a changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace and take a boat tour along the Thames. London is amazing. I’m so glad we’re here!

Also, it’s beyond amusing to see the city undergoing the pre-Olympics renovations. The tour guide kept insisting that London wasn’t usually buried under scaffolding like this; they were just .. y’know, cleaning up before the world gets here. It’s so very much like Vancouver was in 2009 that we can’t help but laugh – even a lot of the promos and signage is the same. We know what you’re in for, London – have fun with that. :)

To bed! We have a Tuesday to take on!

random london

In England, a “gentleman’s club” is not a euphemism for a strip joint.

Heather and I have the same classy reaction to seeing things we’ve only read about in books: “holy fucking shit it’s Westminster goddamn Abbey”

So, I’m posting this stuff – I think – but I can’t actually read it. The 3 3G network has blocked my website as “restricted adult content”, and I’d have to be able to prove my age to access it. I can’t (it won’t accept a NA credit card and I don’t have an account), so I’m SOL until we hit wifi. That’s right – my blog is SO INAPPROPRIATE that it has to be shielded from the general UK public. *snort*

thank you for protecting me from myself

My accomplishment for the day: being allowed into Harrods, where I bought a glitter crow. Yeah, you jealous.

We were out for 12 hours today. I think we have both seen and purchased all of London. We are too tired to eat, and flopping listlessly about the flat. Miss Cleo senses our exhaustion and is being very friendly – I think she is planning on eating us.

H&M in London sells clothes for fat girls! Sure, the section is small and in the basement and hidden in a back corner so no one has to look at us, but they do have clothing larger than a size 6! I bought a shirt. It was three pounds. Hooray!