London ramblings, it gets even weirder! + Undie Crisis of 2011

More ramblings from London, don’t say I didn’t warn you…

And typing at a frantic speed cause I’m very busy and important in London.

Let me kick start with the Good News I have on solving two of my biggest problems since I’ve been here – coffee and undies.

Lets start with the Undies Crisis of 2011 and the complete lack of common sense among British Men. I desperately need more undies but it is boxers and trunks only in the UK. Mountains of them. But nothing, absolutely nothing, in a brief. Check out this rack at UniQlo and all trunks… How is the modern man to feel sexy in a grey flannel trunk???

BORING!!!!

Tried all the cool-kids stores today and so disappointing. You can get a brief but only with a cartoon character on your doodle. And as a man of a certain age this is incredibly inappropriate and sure to be laughed at in the Fitness First changerooms.

In a last ditch attempt before I have to recycle I went to Marks & Spencer. Not only did they have a wide selection of (distinctly un-designer) briefs but they were also ON SALE! K-ching, K-ching –put that one in the savings register. Two pair of undies for 9pound and 3 pairs of socks for 3pound. Couldn’t be happier. Bar-jain! I’d model them for you but decency prevails.

My purchases.

If you read yesterdays post you will know that I firmly believe the coffee situation in London is dire. I still haven’t made it to everyone’s hot tip of Flat White in Soho, hopefully before I head home. But I did discover a passable drop at this little hole in the wall near Head Office. And served by some delightful Turkish ladies, an all-round very pleasant start to the day. Its still no Oven in St Leonards but it will suffice for the next 3 days.

Now for some schizo ramblings…

At the noodle bar where I bought lunch they had Deep Fried Carrot Cake on the menu. Even for me, who as a general rule eats anything fried, I couldn’t bring myself to try it. Surely cake is not meant to be crispy around the edges or moist with oil.

They still have Pizza Hut restaurants here that are dine-in with all-you-can-eat salad bars! God I loved the early 90’s. Back when I never had to think about my weight and could eat till I vomited at a Pizza Hut restaurant.

Thank god for Diet Coke. No explanation required.

Last night I strangely found myself watching both Neighbours and Home & Away. Now of course I am a very regular viewer of Australia’s most successful drama ever, Neighbours, but never in my life do I think I’ve watched both on the same night. Do you think after just 4 days I’m homesick?

Last night, in a moment of terrible weakness, I Tweeted my absolute new favourite and soon-to-be boyfriend Matt Johnson from Channel 5 that I love and adore him. He hasn’t replied. Go figure. Mustn't like Aussies.

Love you Matty-watty!

Finally, the search continues for Will and Kate but with no luck at all. They are proving very elusive. No closer to getting my hands on my wedding invitation that the Palace forgot to send.

I went to some ridiculously cool and fabulous hotel bar for a drink with some gorgeous TV Types thinking W&K would surely be there too. I don’t think they were, problem was it was so dimly lit I could hardly read the cocktail menu let alone see who was at the next table. By contrast the foyer was all flouro lighting and full of child-like wannabe models. I fled after only two apple martini’s.

Tired of pushing through the heaving crowds (this is not really Spring people!) on the way home I took refuge in a gay karaoke bar. Oh dear. Place proved not all gay men have style. Never again. Insanely bad singing and no W&K.

They are never in Boots and I check at least twice a day. That store is amazing for the width and breadth of their products. I love a quick remedy for anything and will pop a pill at a moments notice so the flaky UK medical standards are perfect fit for me. No grilling by the parmacist here when you want a stack of codeine. Will and Kate obvisouly don’t feel the same way.

Ground Floor of Boots Heaven

So that’s it, over and out for another day in London-town. Ten-4 Big Daddy, Keep on Truckin’. St. Murphy needs to have a drink for St Patrick’s Day.

Speaking of St Patricks Day… Happy Birthday Dad! Love you, miss you. Of course I’ll have a drink for you too.