Sunday 19th July 2014
We left our luggage at Victoria Station so we could visit our chums in Covent Garden and get recklessly smashed without trying to carry baggage everywhere around the touristy London streets. Pamela enjoyed the different flavours of Spanish echoed around the streets. I was hoping to stop off at Hamleys (before getting recklessly drunk) to show Pam the masses of toys. It worked out that we wouldn’t get enough time and we were both tired. We had the most expensive pancakes/crepes in the world inside Covent Garden (unfortunately not the best). We then took a look around the market which reminded me a little of the useless expensive stuff being sold at that market in Fort Lauderdale, except it was now useless and British, rather than useless and yank. I don’t know what was worse. I try to block the images out of my life.
Then we waited for my friend Alessia Rigal while watching a street act with a man who wore lots of tattoos and liked playing with whips, while sometimes getting children involved. Sounds very dodgy, I know, but we were taken away with the thought of having a few gin and tonics and beer and Pimms for Pam.
I worked with Alessia at the Refugee Council and I house-sitted her former lush appartment near Brindley Place in Birmingham. She got to speak Spanish with Pamela. She has Peru and French blood, although she hails from California, and she’s been a great buddy for the long haul.
We were then joined by Hazel, my Catracha Irish sister, and we brought over Ron Zacapa (which she had been crying for months before about, but with good reason: it’s feckin’ lovely!!) while Nacho and Mari had coffee for her.
If you want to know more about Hazel, go back a three years ago in my blog and you will find some funny stuff. Nacaome tranny bars and “kid in a China shop” come to mind.
Then my good old buddy Jordan came along, who we’d seen in Brum a week or so before. He delighted us with his firework stories (in his apartment in Moscow, mind) and contracting malaria in Sierra Leone (maybe the latter isn’t so delightful). I knew Jordan and Hazel will hit it off. Brilliant mates, both of them. I’d love to see them next year at the wedding next year.
I was happy drunk but we were having to leave to catch our coach back home to Brum. We had 40 mins to grab our bags at Victoria Street Station and run to the coach station. We made it, with guidance from a lost Frenchman (you trust anyone when you’re drunk). I was bursting for a wee and had to wait until we were on the motorway before I could go in. Even when I did the door was shut and had to be prised open by a coin (I don’t know how, but it was great drunken logic). My bladder was the size of an elephant and I can’t explain how relieved I was to release. Absolute heaven. A Class A wee. Rememberable. Golden moments (brilliant pun: I don’t care what you say).
We were picked up in Digbeth when we got back to Brum. Through alcohol consumption and physical fatigue, I can safely say we collapsed into a deep sleep that night. The next day we’d have Ella and Leo on the attack.