Things they don't mention in the brochure

As I sit here, head aching, and my nose blocked up harder than a constipated drover (how's that for a mental picture), I thought it was high time I perhaps educated some of you to things that you won't hear about in London, until you arrive and find out yourself.

The hard way.

I mean sure, everyone tells you about the exchange rate, and the winter weather - but this is the real deal. So, read on.

First of all, as you might have gathered, I have a cold. A rather bad one actually. In addition to the symptoms outlined above, my throat feels like it's just been sandpapered, and I'm almost certain I can feel my eyeballs throbbing in time with my heart. This is like the 4th, or 5th cold I've had since I've been over here. Back home, I'd go a whole year and maybe get 1, or 2 - tops.

However, in London, travelling by tube, although convenient, is an ideal place to pick up whatever cold someone else in the carriage has. In rush hour, it's standing room only - they worked out each person has 0.25 square metres of space to stand in. You wouldn't transport cattle in conditions like that. So, with up to 40 people within about 2 metres of you at any given time, it's a safe bet that if they have something, you've got a good chance of getting it too.

This isn't uncommon for a lot of antipodeans either - in a sense it reminds me of when the europeans went to the New World, and brought all their diseases with them. Except, now we go to the Old World, and contract them ourselves.

Another thing you won't have heard of, is the Heathrow Injection. This insidious innoculation isn't an actual jab you receive at the airport - rather, it refers to the way in which many newcomers to London find themselves injected with about 10 extra kilos when they step off the plane, which doesn't appear for about 2 or 3 months, when all of a sudden it becomes apparent to the sufferer that they've indeed grown larger, and it wasn't just their imagination.

The causes of this sudden waistline explosion are many. Chief amongst the culprits are the ready availability, in large numbers of cheap late night takeaways, selling kebabs, fried chicken and hamburgers. There's also the attraction of mid-week and weekend drinking with all your new aussie mates at Walkabouts as you guzzle down snakebites at a rate of knots. Public transport is everywhere, so you may be disinclined to walk as much. And finally, the change in location and lifestyle means it's inevitable you'll take a while to adjust, and there's nothing like a good pizza to relieve homesickness, right?

Now, I didn't need to worry about this one - I'd had the vaccination for this particular disease before I left Brisbane, also known as the Alison Dawson shot. Essentially, when your mother has requested (in steely tones) that you whip yourself into shape by the time you get back, it's in your best interests to do so. However, for many other of my brethren, they aren't so fortunate, and consequently come home bearing not only holiday snaps, souvenirs and memories, but also a spare tyre.

What else is there?

I've already made mention of the rabid environmentalism you find over here.

There's also the British bureaucracy, which moves with all the pace and urgency of continental drift. Everything will take several weeks longer than they say it will. Deal with it.

I might leave at that for the time being since my head is killing me, but you get the idea. Be warned.