Sick in London.
Fucking hell.
It's typical of me to fly half way around the world, only to get a headcold five minutes after landing.
Anyway. Having never travelled on an international flight before, I was truly amazed at justy how uncomfortable you can become sitting in a cramped chair while children roam free and cry for no reason, and attractive Singaporean stewardesses ignore my request for a 14th scotch and coke. That said, the leg of the flight from Singapore to London was aboard a new A380 Airbus, which is significantly bigger than a 747, though the size upgrade is negated due to it being just as cramped.
Landing in London was a great relief, though the Customs lady we had was a little short with us:
"Where are you staying in London?' she asked.
"At a friend's place", I replied.
"What is the address?"
"I honestly have no idea".
"Do you think it's wise to arrive in a new country and have no idea where you're staying? Don't you think this might look a little odd in light of the world climate?" she said, obviously agitated.
I placated her as best I could, and I think my dazzling smile is what finally clinched the deal, as she let us through, but with a sour grunt and the most evil dagger-eyes I've seen since I told an old mate of mine that his sister 'tasted innocent'.
We were greeted outside customs by my brother and my great mate Dan, who, in front of at least 300 people, walked right up to us and started breakdancing. After he had completed his little dance, I asked what it was in aid of, and received the perfectly natural answer 'Oh, nothing really. It's just a dance-off, and you just got SERVED'.
I take these things in my stride, of course, so we set off to his house, dumped our bags, and set off for the heart of London for a walking tour. The weather that accompanied this little stroll was exactly what I had envisaged and hoped for, that being driving rain, fierce wind and low, grey clouds, filled with a palpable doom. I think this may have contributed to my current sickness, but you never know.
After completing this little jaunt, the question asked was 'What would you like to do now?'
Being in a new country filled with an inestimable wealth of history and culture, I naturally replied 'Get drunk'.
I can't say I remember the majority of that first night, though I do recall going to a pub for a pint at some late hour with the boys, Julie having sensibly fallen asleep with her head in the paella we had for dinner, while the jetlag and beer had an interesting effect on my sense of sight, sense of balance and sense of... well, all senses really. The cheerful waitress behind the bar suggested to my brother and my friends that I should be escorted home lest they have to carry me there, and my brother informed me that I was essentially walking and snoring at the same time on the way home.
With that out of the way, Julie and my brother Steve awoke early the next morning and set out for a boat tour up the Thames to Greenwich, where we ambled through Greenwich Park, and up to the Royal Observatory. From here we stood with our legs placed either side of the Meridian Line, that being the zero point where world time is issued from. After this lovely distraction, we took in the spectacular views, and then caught the boat back into central London.
Wondering what to do next, the dilemna was solved when after walking past Big Ben, we caught sight of the gargantuan, imposing Westminster Abbey. We handed over 10 quid to Jesus and gained admission to the most amazing structure I have ever witnessed. Sadly, because photos are not allowed of the main cathedral due to the Church being pissy, I could only get shots of the cloister, and the outside.
Still, seeing the tomb of Richard II, Mary Queen Of Scots, (I did stand there and quote Monty Python with my brother, of course. 'Are you Mary Queen of Scots?' 'I am.' 'Eeeeearrgh! Crash bang etc.' People did look at me rather strangely) Edward The Confessor and the like was a beautiful slice of history.
After drinking in the sights, we bade farewell to my brother who returned to Purgatory and headed out to dinner at one of the most popular Indian restaurants in London, called Tayyab's. In the past, I have waited occasionally to be seated at popular restaurants in Melbourne, but this was incredible. After arriving at 8:30, we queued for an hour and and a quarter before being seated. I'm glad we waited, though, as the food was spectacular.
That ended our current soiree in London, however we head off to France tomorrow by train. Due to the fact that (a) I'm not a web designer and (b) this Blogger site won't help me link photos via text, I'll just link them below:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27097851@N02/
It's typical of me to fly half way around the world, only to get a headcold five minutes after landing.
Anyway. Having never travelled on an international flight before, I was truly amazed at justy how uncomfortable you can become sitting in a cramped chair while children roam free and cry for no reason, and attractive Singaporean stewardesses ignore my request for a 14th scotch and coke. That said, the leg of the flight from Singapore to London was aboard a new A380 Airbus, which is significantly bigger than a 747, though the size upgrade is negated due to it being just as cramped.
Landing in London was a great relief, though the Customs lady we had was a little short with us:
"Where are you staying in London?' she asked.
"At a friend's place", I replied.
"What is the address?"
"I honestly have no idea".
"Do you think it's wise to arrive in a new country and have no idea where you're staying? Don't you think this might look a little odd in light of the world climate?" she said, obviously agitated.
I placated her as best I could, and I think my dazzling smile is what finally clinched the deal, as she let us through, but with a sour grunt and the most evil dagger-eyes I've seen since I told an old mate of mine that his sister 'tasted innocent'.
We were greeted outside customs by my brother and my great mate Dan, who, in front of at least 300 people, walked right up to us and started breakdancing. After he had completed his little dance, I asked what it was in aid of, and received the perfectly natural answer 'Oh, nothing really. It's just a dance-off, and you just got SERVED'.
I take these things in my stride, of course, so we set off to his house, dumped our bags, and set off for the heart of London for a walking tour. The weather that accompanied this little stroll was exactly what I had envisaged and hoped for, that being driving rain, fierce wind and low, grey clouds, filled with a palpable doom. I think this may have contributed to my current sickness, but you never know.
After completing this little jaunt, the question asked was 'What would you like to do now?'
Being in a new country filled with an inestimable wealth of history and culture, I naturally replied 'Get drunk'.
I can't say I remember the majority of that first night, though I do recall going to a pub for a pint at some late hour with the boys, Julie having sensibly fallen asleep with her head in the paella we had for dinner, while the jetlag and beer had an interesting effect on my sense of sight, sense of balance and sense of... well, all senses really. The cheerful waitress behind the bar suggested to my brother and my friends that I should be escorted home lest they have to carry me there, and my brother informed me that I was essentially walking and snoring at the same time on the way home.
With that out of the way, Julie and my brother Steve awoke early the next morning and set out for a boat tour up the Thames to Greenwich, where we ambled through Greenwich Park, and up to the Royal Observatory. From here we stood with our legs placed either side of the Meridian Line, that being the zero point where world time is issued from. After this lovely distraction, we took in the spectacular views, and then caught the boat back into central London.
Wondering what to do next, the dilemna was solved when after walking past Big Ben, we caught sight of the gargantuan, imposing Westminster Abbey. We handed over 10 quid to Jesus and gained admission to the most amazing structure I have ever witnessed. Sadly, because photos are not allowed of the main cathedral due to the Church being pissy, I could only get shots of the cloister, and the outside.
Still, seeing the tomb of Richard II, Mary Queen Of Scots, (I did stand there and quote Monty Python with my brother, of course. 'Are you Mary Queen of Scots?' 'I am.' 'Eeeeearrgh! Crash bang etc.' People did look at me rather strangely) Edward The Confessor and the like was a beautiful slice of history.
After drinking in the sights, we bade farewell to my brother who returned to Purgatory and headed out to dinner at one of the most popular Indian restaurants in London, called Tayyab's. In the past, I have waited occasionally to be seated at popular restaurants in Melbourne, but this was incredible. After arriving at 8:30, we queued for an hour and and a quarter before being seated. I'm glad we waited, though, as the food was spectacular.
That ended our current soiree in London, however we head off to France tomorrow by train. Due to the fact that (a) I'm not a web designer and (b) this Blogger site won't help me link photos via text, I'll just link them below:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27097851@N02/
posted by Elfin at 5:50 AM
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