1. Where's the surly?
Could just be first time visitor syndrome, but what's up with all the nice?
I mean service people were all, like, smiling at us and such. Whoa, man. What's up with that?
I think I may have imbibed too much Sarajevo. I was immediately suspicious. Why are you smiling at me, perfect stranger? No way you like me this much. (What do you want from me? Money? What?
) Oh and I just bumped into you, and you
apologize? Really. Are the British this polite? My genetically refined pushy American instincts combined with my recently honed Bosnian surliness will make me a positive force on the London streets. If we move to London, though it looks like we will because we just liked it so darned much, which brings me to...
2. Sticker shock.
Fuck us all, it's expensive in London. The pound is double the dollar. Wah, wah, wah and woe is me. Woe is us. However. With a robust economy comes an abundance of jobs. Or so I hope. It is my finest desire to get a nice, juicy job on the British economy and suck the marrow out of London's cultural offerings. Oh, who am I kidding? I want to shop! I want to buy pretty coats and pretty boots and pretty rings! That's what I want. I'm shallow, and I like sparkly things.
3. So hire me.
Yes, I'm not too proud to beg. Give me employment. I'm a social worker with a focus in international dogoodyism. Yes, that it is one word, and that is exactly how it appears on my diploma.
4. And now for something completely different...Harrods
Can I just say that I totally understand the fuss over this department store. It's cool. It's huge. It's ridiculously overpriced, but who cares?! It's fab.
5. The crowds and the dreaded Tube.
If we do move to London (and we're thinking of the Angel neighborhood, love it!), I believe the Tube will be the absolute bane of my existence. I have never, never seen a subway so crowded. Not in all the years I lived in DC or the times I semi-lived with Stu in New York. (Fourth of July, New Year's, and holidays in general being the exceptions...) There was actually someone's elbow in MY NECK. The huz informs me that it's actually worse in Tokyo, where they use something akin to a t-shaped cattleprod to squeeze people in. Not cool, dude. I think I shall fully embrace the bus service...or my xanax, should the bus service fail to meet my needs.
And, oh my God, once, just at its most crowded, it actually stopped, halted, for what felt like hours. And there we were, squashed like sardines...This is one of my biggest fears on any subway system, due to my claustrophobia. I hate to ask because I fear the answer may not be to my liking...Does this happen often?
5. It's late...
And, Jesus, Stu shaved his facial hair!
(Aside to huz: I thought you were just getting a shower! What possessed you? You have no upper lip! You look 10!)
Sorry. The plane ride, the late hour, and now my husband's naked face has left me speechless. I clearly need sleep.