Lady London

Well, I seem to have collected quite a bit of a backlog since I last posted, last year. Don't worry, I'll let it out slowly... one post at a time...

First and foremost: London!

What can I say that hasn't been said or that you don't yet know? It's London! European capital of eccleticism, elegance and sophistication (among other things hardly worth mention). This time ranks up there as very likely the best trip yet. Of course I can most vividly compare with last time, when I was twisted in pain from my hernia, and, as such, this time around was incomparably better. However...

Of course, the down side. First off, airports. I don't mind flying, mind you, but airports kind of annoy me. Lines at the gates and check in counters and the mind-numbing wait for the luggage not withstanding, it's airport security I complain about. So I'm about to pass security on the trip there and I completely forget about the iPod strapped to my arm, beneath my shirt and jumper. So I empty out my pockets and go through the metal detector, which beeps. So I take off my mechanical all-steel watch (which might have some small measure of metal in it...) and give it another go. It still beeps. So security comes in and starts to frisk me. Oh sure, the guy doesn't like this any more than I do, but still goes down my legs, along my arms, over the iPod, which could just as easily be way over 28 grams of C4 (remember the bomb shoe nut?), over my shoulders and chest, the headphones in protective casing which could just as easily be a trigger device and lets me go without further inquiries. Sure thing, guv'nor. Now I know how things are in this country, so, I figure he thinks it might be more trouble than it's worth to pick on these potentially dangerous little things.

Then, on the way back, they make us take off our shoes before going through security. I knew the folks at Heathrow get a little paranoid this way, but, hey, no big deal. At the metal detector, I figure I might get away with the iPod, so I go through with the iPod and the heavy watch and (go figure) the thing goes off. Cue in security officer. This fellow is more into the frisking business, I think. I'm not entirely sure what he did doesn't count as foreplay. DIdn't do much for me, though. Yet again he went straight over my personal audio gear without a second thought. Then he brought out the handheld metal detector, and I thought he'd sure pick up on the thing on my arm. Turns out he was only interested in waving the thing in front of my crotch and my rear. Come to think of it... wierd...

So let's get this straight: The aluminium replica of a shark's tooth I used to have as a keychain ornament which they confiscated back in 2002 or 2003 - bad; perfume and nail polish, as some friends of mine report having been made to dispose of - bad; small to medium lumps of unidentified substances and wiring of undisclosed nature - now that's all good. Riiiiiiiight...

But then Picadilly Circus and Leicester Square come up into view and make it all better.

Another thing: I stayed at the Hilton. And no, I didn't come to any situation suitable to a Paris joke, but they managed to botch up a simple reservation. We had booked a twin executive room, not a double executive room. I don't much fancy the thought of sharing my bed with my mother, if that's alright with you. But, really, for all they advertised, such as spacious rooms and marble bathrooms, save your money. The rooms are as cramped as the rest, and marble bathrooms means you get as marble countertop around the basin in the bathroom. And the room layout is so bleeding boring. It feels as though in all my trips I've stayed in three different rooms, only one of them was in several different hotels. The honorous mentions go to myHotel in Bloomsbury and the very expensive (but worth every last penny) Sanderson Hotel, in Berners Street.

Pax vobiscum atque vale.

ArabianShark would like to take this opportunity to remind you that everyone's favourite blog (i.e., this one) celebrated its second anniverary just days ago. You'd have been invited, if only you'd answer the polls more often.