Go West, Young Man!

And by Go West, I mean go to the West End.

Re-reading my last blog, I see that I made the rather rash promise of having an alcohol free weekend. Although to be honest, I was succeeding admirably up until about 8 pm on Friday night. True, I'd sculled a scotch & dry or two at the work lunch on Friday, but that doesn't count. When it's a work lunch, once the boss orders a Vodka & tonic, you're obligated to match him. Despite this, I was in good stead compared to Kim who ordered a drink that looked suspiciously like a Snakebite. She denied it of course, claiming instead it was a cranberry juice, but I never trust these South Africans. I imagine that after they failed to account for Ireland in the rugby, she'll be drinking a lot more indeed to forget about it.

*JOU MA SE*

Anyways, as I was saying, I was succeeding admirably in my alcohol free week, up until Friday night, when I got a phone call from Nick, who demanded to know what I was doing. Upon advising him that I was reclining at home, reading a book and taking it easy, within 2 milliseconds the words "YOU SLACK PRICK" came bellowing down the phone, and single-handedly coerced me into taking bus and tube to Covent Garden for beers at the Maple Leaf. For a canadian bar, it's actually not that bad. The beer is excellent - you can get Sleeman's on tap, and you can also buy Moosehead by the bottle. Despite the name, it's the closest thing I've encountered to Cascade since I've been away. The taste is almost indentical. That, in my opinion, makes it worth purchasing.

So, after falling off the wagon, I took it easy for most of Saturday - it was my week to clean the house, so I spent 4 hours drifting around the house clutching alternatively at broom, vacuum and cleaning cloth, with my headphones on and Tchaikovsky streaming through. It's somewhat of a letdown to clean a stovetop to the strains of the 1812, but what can you do. Saturday night was spent at the Badger, having been invited there by Nick and Co. to partake in a genuine South African braai (basically a BBQ, but a Saffa is wielding the tongs). While Springbok wasn't on the menu (the Irish had already killed 'em all) there was good food, and plenty of drink to be had.

And so to Sunday, and the central theme of this blog. I have decided to take a few hours each weekend to essentially get lost in London, and go see chunks of the city at a time. Essentially this involves getting off at a tube stop and going walkabout. This weekend I hopped off at Bond Street, and wandered through the West End, Soho, and Covent Garden.

Now, considering this part of London takes in Mayfair and various other hoity-toity locations, I can assure you, that after having walked through it, it would take a lot more than 400 dollars to buy Mayfair. Or even a small portion. Dressed in my somewhat shabby Reebok jumper and pants, I felt a bit out of place. Mind you, after seeing 15 Porsche 911's within the space of a kilometre, you get a bit blase towards the staggering amounts of wealth on offer. Bentley, Rolls, Ferrari, Lamborghinis - you get used to them after a while. The only thing that managed to turn my head was one of the three Koeniggsegg's in the UK, that nearly set Regent Street on fire as it roared by.

But the Soho district, well, that was something else. I was propositioned 3 times in the space of half a kilometre by various Asian slags - the usual "8 dollar, you gimme 8 dollar soldier boy" crap. Soho, for those unaware, is essentially the equivalent of Fortitude Valley in Brisbane, in terms of the sheer number of brothels, massage parlours and other houses of ill-repute. I observed a somewhat tubby (oh, fuck it, he was friggin' OBESE) gent who was walking ahead of me stepping inside one of these places, and that alone was enough to put me off my lunch.

After navigating this area, I moved on through Piccadilly Circus, Covent Garden, High Holborn, the Strand, Aldwych and Chancery Lane. Ultimately, there's not a huge amount of difference between these areas, as they're all part of the newer city, that is, that part of London that is outside of the old, olde city boundaries. Next week however, I plan to go and see the ancient part of London, that part that forms the original locale, so it should provide an interesting comparison.

And now, for today's dose of pixels.


This photo is of Selfridge's, which is one of the original and grandest department stores in Oxford High Street, the main shopping precinct in London. The thing you really notice about Oxford Street isn't so much the shopping as it is the amount of people crammed into it. Crowded is given a new definition when you're in Oxford Street on a Sunday.


To help alleviate the crowding on the roads, they cart Londoners around in these. Now, I cannot for the life of me understand why they brought in Bendy Buses in London when they have double decker buses everywhere. A double decker carries the same number of people, and yet takes up half the road space. Quite why they have these things I have no idea. They are one of the most despised things in London, according to recent surveys of Londoners.


The American embassy at the West End of Grosvenor Square. I hear that John Bolton, the US Ambassador to the UN is in London at the moment, which would explain the enormous motorcade that roared out of one of the side entrances as I was in the area.


At the east end of Grosvenor Square is the Canuk embassy. One does notice that the security level differs dramatically between these embassies, even though they are only separated by a few hundred metres of park. Evidently the Canadians have less to worry about.


A statue of Franklin Delano Roosevelt in Grosvenor Square. One does wonder why the sculptor chose to depict Roosevelt as standing, when, given the fact he had was crippled by Polio for most of his life, a far more realistic approach would have been to depict him in a wheelchair.

I mean hell, Winston Churchill is always depicted with cigars and brandy, so why should Roosevelt be any different, in showing his frailties?


I walked past this theatre in the West End - the musical is apparently worth seeing, so it might be worth a look. They'll have a hard task matching up to the original movie though.


The entrance to the Royal Courts of Justice, better known as the "Old Bailey". For a courthouse, it certainly looks more like a cathedral than anything else.


And finally, one of the markers that designate the boundaries of the old city of London, and where the city walls used to stand. Although I've ventured into Bank and St Paul's already, I haven't seen the greater part of the old city, so I'm making that my task for next weekend.

For now though, stay warm (shouldn't be hard, back in Oz) and I'll see you next week, so to speak.