Cheap thrills and desperate measures

I have wasted no time at all in Londonising myself.  I'm back to eating crayfish & rocket sandwiches, Nero lattes, using public transport like the best of them, jumping queues, taking secret short cuts and getting inwardly irritated at bumbling tourists.  How they love to tease us with their white running shoes.  You are fooling no-one.  What they really want to be wearing is slippers; house shoes and pijamas for they walk at the pace of someone who's woken up to go to the toilet in the middle of the night. 

We sat on the upper deck, at the very front of the number 7 bus - the finest bus route in London and cheapest kiddie thrill since the playground swing.  Look at this view from the best seat in the house - look at those London skies! old school grey.  You won't find a more authentic shade of grey south of Battersea.

The Lish was beside herself with glee.  The whole upper deck was in stitches at her rollercoaster-like screeching.  Meanwhile, mummy was able to read two whole uninterrupted pages of her book.  Bliss.

We met some old friends of mine from my college days and mucked about in a park around Holborn - once a witness to teenage drunken revelries (Oh how times have changed), today a calm child-friendly urban oasis - certainly more child-friendly than Alice in Wonderland (will do better next time- am wondering what the chances are of getting The Lish to sit through Avatar with me). 

Tomorrow I am doing something I haven't done in...a very long time: going to a public swimming pool .Desperate? Moi? Well, yes a little.  We're a week and a bit away from a permanent address which rules out a nursery school place until such a time...so I'm grabbing at straws here but I reckon swimming could be fun - even with a broken foot. 

Famous last words.