The London Stumble

1. Yesterday I was awake by 8 O'clock with a tongue like Ghandi's sandal and in assorted pain. I couldn't even face breakfast. It took me an hour to pack up and stumble out into the heat. I just wanted to be somewhere comfortable like in the joint bosoms of Nigella Lawson and Kate Winslet.

2. I sat down on a bench in Bloomsbury Park sweating and hallucinating about Virginia Woolf. What the hell happened last night? I remember leaving the Poetry Cafe in toe with someone called Maggie. She'd just turned up randomly for the evening apparently. I believe we went for something to eat (pizza possibly?). Yes it was because I remember saying "What have you ordered?" , "Margarita", "Great I love tequila.","No it's a pizza", "Fuck, do they do cocktails?", "I think you've had enough." I'd had enough it was true. The 3 Stella's and the Staropramen Smirk gave me as he left hadn't helped and quite why I thought I needed a bottle of red to keep me going through the night was beyond me.

3. So when I explained that I was pretty much a London virgin (not entirely true), and she, Maggie needed to show me the sights, I guess I was asking for it. I have no idea what the club was called but, I was assured that it was gonna be good. "What kind of club is it?", "It's a women's bar." Really I replied, my pissed mental image conjuring something like the Full Monty. The young lad (so I thought) showed us downstairs. It soon became pretty clear that these ladies were not interested in poorly choreographed male strippers. I ordered a beer to take my mind off things for a while...

4. What to do all day. I was there early for the opening of the British Museum. The great courtyard is based around the great reading room where they have brilliant touchscreen pc's. I slid unnoticed up towards the impressive glass roof and the restaurant that looks down over the library. A guestbook lay open on the side with a pen just there egging me on. It would seem that Sven Goran Erikkson enjoyed his meal rather more than the other guests.

5. From the British Museum I wandered down Charing Cross Rd and had some lunch. My feet were killing me and I have blister the size of a rugby ball. Next stop was the National Gallery which I would have enjoyed immensely if I hadn't been so tired. How tacky is Sunflowers by Van Gogh? How big is The Bathers by Seurat? That's what I love about going to these big and famous galleries is that you really get an appreciation of scale and texture which you can never get out of books or the interweb.

6. My new PC has arrived but I have a new set of problems. I don't think they've loaded a bios or any kind of software so I'm gonna have to scramble around for that and my XP disc which is proving elusive.

7. If the weather can't be pleasant then I want it to be miserable. None of this hot fog business. I blame Ming the Mercilless

8. I'm looking for a 10 foot longboard. If you spot one for sale and it's less than £300 mail me double quick.

9. I am resolved to never get on the Megabus again. Fortunately I have a bladder like a 1950's leather football so I can torture others on the bus by swigging liberally from litre bottles of water. The Megabus is cheap but it's also uncomfortable, slow, rhythmically vomitous (it sways like a boat from opposite corner to corner), oh and did I mention it's really fucking uncomfortable? I felt like doing this when I got home.

10. It was grilliant to meet virtual people this weekend. There is a tendency to forget at the end of every keyboard there is a person. Essentially most people are just as nice and as pleasant as they are when you meet them in lesbian nightclubs. I don't know why it hasn't become second nature.