1 June 2015, 7 pm
I have a very kind friend who has a very nice flat in London, and he is letting me borrow it to save me travelling all the way from the Wess Curntry every time I need to be Presidential. This is the kind of thing you call a Godsend, even if you do not believe in God or if you do, you suspect that he would not spend his time finding flats for people. So now I am an actual proper Londoner for a few days. This is a scary thought, not least for the other Londoners. Within a five minute walk of my temporary home, I can get to four different late-opening supermarkets, eight different coffee shops and at least twenty restaurants. Not to mention two tube stations and several bus stoppy-looking things, and what’s more some actual buses at the bus stoppy-looking things, which would be unheard of where I come from. There is a cinema close by, showing films that won’t reach the Wess Curntry till 2017, and a theatre down the road showing Michael Flatley’s bottom. I could get a takeaway which I wouldn’t even need to take away. Day or night, I need never want for anything. Is this what life is like for people who live and work in London? Is it really this easy? And if so, how does anyone from London ever contrive to be late for a meeting? I feel almost young and carefree, except without the being young bit. Also the CIPA Pee is probably not supposed to be carefree without Council’s permission. Still, it is the closest I am likely to get to a decent mid-life crisis, and I may as well have it while pretending to help CIPA.
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