Hostel life is curious. Some people don’t want to know you, some want to be your best friend, and some are quite happy to pretend that you don’t exist altogether. I’m not sure precisely what I expected, however I have determined a brilliant new system of ranking accommodation based on four simple categories.

A ) Number of things present that I am likely to be allergic to (lower is better)

B ) Maximum temperature of water as dispensed from shower nozzle (higher is better)

C ) Volume of water dispensed by shower nozzle per minute (higher is better)

D ) Number of minutes that category B can be maintained when utilised in accordance with category C (higher is better)

The hostel in which I am staying rates well in category A, but barely registers on the remaining three. I would be less forgiving, but the water from the cold tap in England is truly cold. Really, really cold. I brush my teeth using the hot tap.

Other theories regarding London life:

Redheads are slaughtered at birth or transported immediately to Scotland under cover of darkness. I have seen barely anyone in my travels with even red-ish hair. If they come for me at night, I will be waiting.

Large numbers of sticks and other lumps of wood seem to be planting themselves in the ground and masquerading as trees, despite their obvious lack of foliage. I am not yet sure what these flora imposters are up to, but you can be sure that it is no good.

I am the only person in the greater London area wearing camo pants. I suspect this is becuase (A) the trees have been replaced with sticks with no leaves, rendering jungle camo ineffective or (B) they blend in well enough by just looking miserable and wearing long black coats.

Due to increases in the price of local food, accommodation and fuel, many services have been cut back. This includes sunlight. Hours of daylight have been reduced to the minimum necessary to sustain life and the intensity of the sun has been lowered to a dull glow, illuminating the picturesque cloud of smog hanging over the city.

The number of Australians in London can only be explained by the discovery of a large tunnel travelling directly through the centre of the earth, connecting the two locales. I will endeavour to find out where this tunnel is, and whether frequent traveller miles are calculated on surface distance or displacement through the core.

Apparently since the bombings of tube stations some years ago, the authorities realised the potential for explosives to be hidden in bins and other trash receptacles at train stations, bus stops and pretty much everywhere in public. So they decided to solve the problem by removing them all. Which is fine, until you are holding a piece of rubbish.

Observational curiosities seem to be my flavour of the week.

One thought on “LDN.4

  1. Oh Dwight, u are so eloquent! i love reading your musings!

    I totally relate to the bin issue as I too, once held a handburger wrapper for around an hour whilst i searched for a bin!

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