Tuesday morning began like any other - get up, get out, walk to work, sit down, check emails, get on with the working day. Take a moment to check the headlines of a top quality news website (cough cough) - news.com.au - and apparently old Kev has popped his old head up again and any moment the nation would discover whether we would have a change of Prime Minister.
Huh?
Fortunately most of the British population was more distracted by Nadal's shock exit from the Wimbledon Tennis Championships to focus on Australian politics, however BBC British journalists did take the opportunity to make quite scarring remarks about the state of affairs. My favourite description was perhaps comparing recent events to "a soap opera directed by Quentin Tarantino." Another was perhaps "Australian politics is just like Game of Thrones, except without the good bits." Head in hands, I began to practise my British accent under my breath at my work desk, channelling Emma Watson as Hermione Granger before growling in frustration as it would morph into a terrible Indian accent.
Learning that Lleyton Hewitt was also representing the country at Wimbledon did not help a sense of doom and gloom. Instead, I chose to share in the British excitement over Andy Murray's progression in the tournament. Fortunately the hustle and bustle around my usually-quiet work place area, which is very close to the Wimbledon tennis grounds, has meant that sharing in the excitement has been quite easy to manage. With Federer now out of the running too, the hype over Andy Murray is truly building.
There's nothing like Grand Weekend Plans to make the working week seem longer as usual. Remembering periodically during the working day that the lovely Sam would be visiting would send excited jitters down my spine. Perhaps I was distracted thinking about the weekend when, on Friday afternoon, I quickly zipped out to grab some afternoon tea. Crossing the road to Tesco's, I was rudely honked by a driver in a dark 4WD. Even more annoyingly, he decided a honk wasn't enough to tell me off for crossing the road in front of him (even though it was a safe moment to do so), but pointing his finger at me was necessary also. I decided that this would be an ideal opportunity to throw him my newly perfected London Glare.
London Glares, or fixed and angry stares, are generally directed at Tourists but can also be directed at:
- Slow walkers
- Illegal pedestrian road crossers
- Loud people
- Traffic lights
- Innocent bystanders
- Couples
- Pigeons
- The sun
- The rain
- The world
What makes London Glares different from standard ones is the intensity and frequency of delivery, which is second to no other. You cannot call yourself a true and impatient Londoner if you have not yet mastered the glare.
I decided that this circumstance called for my newly mastered London Glare. I threw him my best and huffed off down the hill. Though I couldn't ignore the feeling that something wasn't right here. I'd seen that dark car before. Turning around, I see not only the dark car but my boss sitting in the driver's seat of the dark car, half confused and half amused by the moments of the last 60 seconds. Mortified, I started to call out my apologies but they came out in a stuttering mess, before I simply said, "let's not speak of this again."
After that incident, the weekend REALLY couldn't come soon enough. When it did though, how glorious it was! With perfect weather and an even better travel companion, I showed off my new-found local knowledge and led the way. Only a minor glitch involving blisters and a broken bag hindered our adventures and the only glares to be had were from the beaming sun. Watching a spectacular sunset from an open-aired cinema on Sunday night, we declared London life to be pretty swell.
Love, Em xxx
P.S. a massive thankyou once again to those who have sent the most incredible care packages over the last week. You are simply amazing - thanks to you I'm all stocked up for rainy days (whether they be literal or metaphorical!)
No comments:
Post a Comment