Have treaded to the Far West of London last night, to a party in Mayfair (!) too far for my bike to escort me. I let myself be dragged past the borders of my beloved EastEnd, to mingle with a new crowd, rightly described by a friend as "Very rich kids, with careers on the side". So, the tube it was. I can't say I wasn't a bit edgy, but that's not the point of this post.
I just wanted to note how daunting it is to live in a elevator-clad building of such minutia that I would not be allowed to hang my mismatched socks to dry at the window, with a rooftop patio overlooking the precious US Embassy, illuminated flag at half-mast, and spotless iron fences that discriminate my 2nd-hand shopper bike with a hefty "Bicycles Found Parked Against Or Chained To These Railings Will Be Removed Without Further Notice." Suddenly, my landlord's Perfect Fried Chicken shop under my flat has never felt more cosy, even if it does send the mice and cockroaches up to us.
At least I have gotten my first ever hangover today: I finally feel like a normal person! And I have the West End boys to thank for that...
On another note, London police have approved a "Shoot to Kill" policy against suspected bombers, pub-filled Monnot Street in Beirut was bombed last night at 10pm on a Friday night, and it's my birthday tomorrow. Cheers anyone?