I might vomit, but I'm determined to finish this macaron..
Day five in London, otherwise known as the longest day of my life.
Off-topic, today I realised a couple of things.
1) I subconciously make future plans for London, where I'll make a mental note to go there, shop there or eat there despite not having any current plans to go back to London. If this isn't post-London depression, I don't know what is. But, seriously, I miss London so much.
2) I get cranky if I don't get a cup of tea first thing in the morning and right before I sleep. Totally a London-er for life.
The day began at Borough Market, where Jerry, David, David's sister and I ate lots of free samples. It pains me that there's nothing really like it in Melbourne (except maybe the Queen Victoria Market, but it really doesn't compare) and that I'll never be able to eat wild boar salami again. Day Five was also my first encounter with Pimms, which is the English version of lemon and lime bitters. It's around 27.34 times more awesome than Australian lemon and lime bitters because it has pieces of fruit in it, but mostly because it's quite alcoholic. I apparently failed to remember the latter, because on Day Nine I unintentionally got drunk off Pimms and sat through the first act of Billy Elliot borderline drunk.
After Borough Market, David and I decided to explore Oxford Street, it apparently being the go-to for shopping. I wish someone had warned us how fucking insane it is. Honestly, CRAZY. It was like Boxing Day, except it wasn't Boxing Day, it was just a normal day. Topshop has five levels, a couple of cafes, in-house toilets and random snacks for sale. THIS IS EXCESSIVE. PEOPLE CAN DIE IN THERE. After an hour and a half, David and I did almost die in there. I later found out that all of the shops on Oxford street have multiple levels, and you could probably die in each one. The entire experience was extremely painful, so naturally I came back and did it again on Day Ten.
(Insert me wearing new clothes)
(Yeh, no photos because it's cold and I'm not getting out of bed to put on Summer clothes)
After the horrific Topshop experience, I rushed back to the apartment, changed into something more elegant than a bondage skirt, and headed to The Ritz Hotel with Jerry for high tea. I'm surprised I didn't fall on the tube tracks from exhaustion.
I was revived by tea and dainty sandwiches and scones and cakes and butlers holding out chairs for me. It was AMAZING. I'd also like to point out that the toilets were pretty awesome too; there was champagne and a day bed. Enough said.
There was also this cake that Jerry and I ordered. DON'T FORGET YOUR JACKET, the line that started everything. If this line had never been said, I wouldn't have started watching Glee (maybe that would have been a good thing), rayslady and I would never have really started talking, Jerry and I wouldn't have reconnected and I would never have gone to London. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, I don't think we can be friends anymore.
Jerry and I tried to finish the cake, but it was impossible. Blame all the scones.
From The Ritz, I rushed off to the Lyceum Theatre where I met up with David for The Lion King Musical. Tickets were pricey, but we had good seats and it turned out to be well worth it. The show obviously opened with Circle of Life and, by the end of that number, I was already satisfied. My mind was effectively blown.
Getting home from the theatre was a nightmare because of the sheer number of people. After failing to get on the third train to pass through the station, things got hysterical and the whole THIS DAY WILL NOT END mentality got to me. I decided not to throw myself on the tracks, instead I was mature and pointed at Cockfosters station repeatedly.
The glee on my face is priceless.
