London Summer: Hell Up In Hertfordshire
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Ben fooled me into coming with him to London for a month with him this summer. I had always dreamed of going to this blessed plot, but then I got all sugar-shocked and spent about 16 tonnes of pounds keeping up with the Cockneys. And got bombed. Twice! Come on, what is that? The local FRT Leicester Square is a constant clusterfuck, which is novel to a hayseed like me
My hostess, in her natural state
I was talking a lot of shit about an expedition to Yorkshire, but just passing through was also nice Knights Dylan lives in a garden paradise just outside of Sheffield, with Angel and a performance artist and their cats Ben Ko was shoving off for Poland, and we had a few drinks in the W1. This dude totally looked like Arnold Vosloo, when he was awake British Museum Ben and I got in touch with our ancestors
She's okay, I guess
Marek and I went to Tower Bridge, which was arduous for some reason. Here, I am his father The Protestors of Calais Totally Tim Bradstreet Kneel before the flames, and your ardor will purify you. Clive Prince Charles's private residence, when you could have that sort of thing Remember the Crimea, darling I rode Aslan! And so did about 9,000 slavic kids Tiphaine, doing her Limey act Aw gee
The second bombing. I hoofed it 5 miles to get to the Jubilee line so's I could go home. The buses couldn't carry anyone and the taxis were mostly on errand, so you had about 10 million Londoners running around like mice on cellphones. Using a public bathroom was like beating a level of Solomon's Key Mark, Ben's friend, was cool. He and I took the weight for the lovebirds while the four of us went out on the town all day. Every breakfast was an English breakfast And we both got the last laugh. |