...I'm in a little bit of one this morning. Last night after dinner with aunt and cousins in Pimlico, I headed off to Oxford Circus to meet someone I always said I'd meet in person in the event I found myself in London.
Well here I am in London, so I got a chance to meet her. And drink lots of wine and gin and tonics. (As a sidenote - Aunty Peas' liver is taking strain. I've been eating like the Duke of Kent since I arrived here and have been out three nights in a row. My head, she pounds. Once again.)
Anyway, it was just so nice to meet her - I feel if I have known her for years anyway.
Lovely Zuzula. Bearing in mind, when I started blogging three and a half years ago, it was because I started reading Zuzula's blog. I read hers way before I started mine. And she's everything I thought she'd be face to face and more, am so glad we got to go out on the piss together.
She took me to Carnaby Street in Soho (I think it's Soho? I stand corrected). To the Marlborough Gardens Court House, which is essentially equipped with old jail cells (the Rolling Stones spent a night in here too I believe). Anyway it's been refurbed in a fabulous little bar, and we could drink our wines in the catacombs of a cell. Even the old toilet is in there. Loved that.
From there I thought've taking the tube back to my hotel and getting a good night's sleep, but figured - hey once in a lifetime, who knows when I'll be back in London - and we still had so much catching up to do, so I stayed on the Central Line with Zuzula and she took me to KWest. A hotel bar still open. (I think we're in Kensington at this point, again, could be wrong). Apparently Amy Winehouse stays here.
God, now imagine if I'd seen her lookalike.
Ending up staying over at Zu's, and caught a tube this morning to get back to Vauxhall. Suddenly I understand the concept of tubes, hangovers, and the rat race. What an epic journey back. Woke up late to begin with, so was hustling slightly - and had terrible blisters from my stupid high heels:
You get on a tube, wearing the clothes from the night before and want to vomit everytime the train screeches to a sudden halt, or when you're standing underneath someone's minging armpit. People can see you're in the clothes from the night before. God, what do people do when they have napovers in this town? What a mission!
Traipse back to hotel, take a shower, throw on clothes and traipse back to tube station to get to the office. It's just people moving from one hole in the ground to the next, and on a hangover, it's not easy.
Anyway, that's not to say I still don't think this city is fabulous. Zuzula has grown up in London her whole life and as I said to her, I could quite happily live here - in an obscure way - nowhere near Putneyfontein - and hell, I nearly did had I not got my fabulous job.
Anyway after spending three nights in drinking spots, today I'm going to take a little more cultural responsibility. My cousin works around Victoria too, so we'll go for lunch at St James' Park, and I'll do some cultural 'by-walking'. Not siteseeing, that seems a little too backpack-and-A-Z Guide for me (although I shamelessly bought one of them yesterday), but I will wander around the park, wave to Buckingham Palace, walk down through parliament (Downing Street) and Westminster Abbey.
Possibly end off at the Tate Modern.
Over the weekend I'll be doing more by-walking too - lunch in Richmond on the river, max out my credit card at Top Shop and Selfridges (I've decided it actually has to be done - at least a little bit. People look so funky and trendy and beautiful here), and I'm going to go to the Portobello Road market in Notting Hill. And see some Saffa mates.
(Going to have to meander down the dreaded green District Line after all...)
Still. I have much to fit in before I fly to the rolling green hills and leprechaun inhabited Dublin on Sunday.