Tour de Reino Unido – part dieciséis

Dear readers,

Saturday, 18th July 2014

I know this is Donkey’s years old but I don’t care. I’ve been so busy of late. I celebrated a year at Dowal School last week. Time flies and this is third of a year old but you can surely understand. I’m not very coherent right now because my head is like a firework display right now, rockets of information shooting in 90 directions. Wedding info, Catholic info, work info, business info. All very colourful as you can see.  Stressed? Maybe, but ultimately happy and getting on with it. My language might be getting colourful as well at times during this update, so if you don’t like profanities, fuck off, I mean, turn away. Only joking.

Pamela and I were both feeling shattered that morning. Hungover and aching from the previous day of racing around London. Liz invited us for a bagel breakfast in Kingston, although beforehand Pamela became acquainted with Marks and Spencers, which was amusing. Pamela needed shoes but they didn’t have any in her size. I make frequent cheeky comments about Pamela’s tiny feet, and that she can exchange shoes with my seven year old niece Ella, although she shall be growing out of Pamela soon. Pamela often then shows me her finger and tells me to leave her ticklish “patitas” alone.

After a lush brekkie, we then caught the train to Paddington (I think) with my sister’s partner at the time (he liked sharing his tattoos and his adventures and spoke like John Terry, but more cockney) where we met Hannah and Zahra the Guatemalen. A walk along the Thames to see Big Ben, we wanted to see Buckingham Palace et all but the few hundred thousand protesters against the Gaza bombings stood in our way, not that I’m complaining. It was good to see people take to the streets. I saw a friend from my Refugee Council days, Nasri, which was pretty amazing. Hannah was in her element, telling us she wanted to get a “feel” for the protest; a protest march connoisseur, I must say, but I’m very proud of her strong beliefs. Pamela was also enjoying it, taking her camera “Lola Flash” out for a ride. She also compared it to marches and protests in Honduras, although this one had far more people than those in the land of Catrachos, it must be said. Then again, sometimes the whole of London can feel like a crowd at any given time. A Londoner protests  Unfortunately I didn’t take any pictures. I don’t know why not. We then went around back to the Thames and made our way to Trafalgar Square. I used to love the pigeons there as a boy. I found it as exciting as red buses and Hamleys (well, maybe not Hamleys, but it was a brilliant London attraction). Now they have crazy Yodas hovering in the air somehow. I don’t know how but sometimes I don’t want to and remain in the blissful ignorance that it might just be magic.



We then went to a bar nearby and had a couple of gin and tonics and another lavish taste of my sister’s, Pims, which Pamela caught on to all too easily. I’ve been in this bar various times with different people. I think it’s called the Theatre Bar something like it.

We then took a stroll to Borough Food Market. London looks designed by a drunken madman. From grandiose to royal to grey to Edwardian to hightec to ecological, with daftly brilliant detail. This could all be on one street.  Londoners can’t get too annoyed with gobsmacked bystanders. London looks like a Dell Boy type of geezer from a little way away, but the food is definitely not cheap or dodgy. Expensive but nice. Pamela and I had a pie each and I put on the pounds which took a month or so to shed. We then wanted to go up the Shard but unfortunately our attire was not acceptable for entrance. I didn’t realise we still had dress codes. So off we went for a leisurely walk down Southbank (I got look to at the second hand books and drink alcohol. Two of my greatest pastimes).

With sweat pouring off us, we made our way back to Paddington and caught the train back to Kingston. We had a quick shower and went back to Lizzie’s for a chilli. My first plate landed on the floor. Me being a clumsy git. But one of the interesting parts of the night was with Hanny about the then up and coming Scottish Referendum. Hannah wanted Better Together. I wanted Yes (have your land and freedom, and take the Iron Bru with you. (I’ve said that so many times to my cousins, even I am a bit bored of hearing myself say it)). In my heart of hearts, I could sense it was going to be a no vote. Tory propaganda wouldn’t have allowed a yes. That would have nailed Cameron. It was interesting to hear. I’ve heard many women voted no but men voted yes. I will be including more about the vote in a future update.

What did dawn on me that evening was that I wouldn’t be seeing my sister for some time. Not face to face. In presence. For a year.

It was a great tour. I love London. Not to live in. Just to visit. It’s a great city. I miss it. I must include on of my favourite Pogues songs: London You’re a Lady.


About Nicholas Rogers

I am an English journalist/copywriter living in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and I have been here since 2011. I originally came to work with Casa Alianza, which supports street kids and vulnerable youths. I then stayed on, after meeting Pamela Cruz Lozano, who calls me her adopted Catracho. I work freelance journalism and I have my own translation business. Why did I come here? For the challenge, to open my mind and get out of my comfort zone. I love literature and I've written a book with street kids. I write novels, short stories and poetry, all of which you will find on this blog, as well as a lot of information about Honduras. View all posts by Nicholas Rogers

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