Of course the weekend was filled with fun and naughty, and you have seen some of the horror that befell London town as a result. There would have been some more, but it seems that our schedule clashed with the “Salute to Israel” parade that was taking place over at Trafalgar Square and therefore, to produce such a masterpiece of entertainment in front of the countless number of security guards who was on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, let’s just say I would have made the news that day…

“Panic and chaos reigned today in London as a mad man proceeded to disrupt the precession by pretend ironing in front of the national gallery. Police suspect he was armed and dangerous, with the iron being ready to deploy in less than 45 seconds.

Fearing that the man was about to iron people to death in a mass murder crusade to avenge some people we haven’t heard of before, the police quickly wrestled the man to the ground in short order, with the ironing board putting up a fight with several officers until they found the little catch underneath and he quickly folded afterwards.

Both are still in custody tonight, and the police report that the ironing board is refusing to talk.”

Still, perhaps that would have been a better and potentially happier news story than most of the things making the headlines these days.

Before that madness however, there was other madness witnessed which should be conveyed for the masses to enjoy before scuttling back from whence they came.

Thursday of course was an important day; to begin it was “Pay your rent or you die.” which I discovered was the nice way of asking for rent owed, from that loveable character from so many sitcoms, the landlord.

However unlike the sitcoms, beware if you cross them as somehow the punishment not only involves eviction but eating a variety of poop from various sources around the globe.

After the excitement of death and destruction if I didn’t pay in time, it got to after hours at the local work house, the place where we make footballs at 3 pence an hour. (On the plus side, excellent dental plan)

Due to some silliness, the work planned for the evening never happened, which caused great distress to everyone involved. So much so, that everyone had to go to the pub to console each other and wonder where did it all go wrong? So much promise and well so little time…

Of course, events like this are the perfect way to get to know the people you work with and sure enough I got a very good idea. Rather upsettingly, the people I work with are a laugh who it appears; they have lead-lined stomachs and can destroy a pint in under 3 seconds.

I on the other hand, was far slower, happily gulping away at my own leisurely speed and conversing about the finer things with my fellow comrades, such as huge burgers created by the Kiwis and Call of Duty on the Xbox 360, of which it appears I am the only one not to own the console. Apparently this meant I was a woman.

It was also at this time, that I truly discovered that one of them was Michael Douglas from the film “Falling Down”

For my own safety I shall not name the person in question, suffice it to say that if you cross him you shall feel the wrath of a thousand angry pensioners who learned things cost more than they used to.

It remain rather high spirited throughout the evening and all the while, despite the fact that the soapboxes came out early, which in itself was funny to watch, it was one of those moments that basically define people and where potentially you stand with them. Remarkably it was good to know.

While writing all this, a thought appeared in the space between my ears and lit up like a bright thing that I can’t think of what it’s actually called. In many ways, all that appears here, could be classed as fairly normal and in the grand scheme of things, these very events are taking place by another gentleman out there, somewhere else, which kind of makes everything quite unremarkable in some respects.

However, the fact is that since beginning my journey down here, it hasn’t really let up. There is always something happening, be it a simple drink after work or being held at gun point by a man questioning why you didn’t want to join the Hare Krishnas. Shropshire, the lovely green pasture where I resided for so long, seems so slow in comparison, yet the passage of time doesn’t change, people despite evidence to suggest otherwise, still do the same things that everyone else does.

It’s just that, at the moment, everything still has the gloss over it, even when reality has forced its way in like a drunk hobo, of which there have been a number of encounters so far. Again, the idea of loving then hating London echoes loudly in my ears, although instead of realisation, the only thing that occurs is the noise you make when you blow over a bottle’s top.

Sometimes, after all the fun, you do wonder why it isn’t like this anywhere else. Mind you, would you want a random nutter ironing outside near you? If so, contact us, our rates are reasonable.