We are in London.
We are having such a fantastic time I can hardly find the words to tell you about it.
It is the best, most amazing holiday.
I am in bed now, after a day so full of new adventures that my memories are practically leaking out of my ears.
We came on the train.
Not just any old train, we came First Class, after the last time we travelled by train and there was a horrible peasant opposite us eating crisps with his mouth open. I decided then and there I would not travel in pauper class again. It will be First Class or walking, and today it was First Class.
It was truly splendid.
Smiling gentlemen offered us endless supplies of food and drink, we had several cups of coffee to get over the early start and then got stuck into the gin, it is all included in the ticket so there is no point in wasting it.
London is huge. We were arriving into London practically from the moment we left Watford, there were more houses than you could imagine possible, brick makers must have made a fortune in their day. We saw youths skulking under a bridge by a canal, and colourful graffiti all over blackened bricks, and exhausted-looking factories and industrial estates. It is not an inspiring arrival.
Actual London is a bit different.
It is populated entirely by teenagers, and the sort of chaps in their early thirties whom you can tell have got modern ideas about nappy changing and liking rap music. The whole place breathes an atmosphere of wholesome lay awoken sincerity, like inhaling cotton wool, you can practically feel it in the back of your throat.
Our hotel is called The Landmark, you can look it up, and it is magnificent.
We have stayed here before, and it is like the Midland used to be before it was bought by a chain and they did away with all of the nice bits. They are so helpful it costs about thirty quid in tips just to get through the lobby.
It is glorious, though, and we are in an Executive room instead of some cheaply second-class billet. This is because they were on offer when we booked it, not because of any aspirations to excess luxury, but it is so splendid I am very glad we did. You could fit all of the downstairs of our house in it twice, and still have room for the garden, and the shower is so businesslike it practically massaged the back of my neck away.
I like it here.
We walked to the theatre, because it was only a couple of miles, and I was beginning to feel a bit twitchy because of having spent half of the day loafing about in a train eating biscuits and sandwiches, so we ambled across the city on foot.
We are shockingly unsophisticated. Our eyes were on stalks.
We wanted to walk across Regent’s Park, but there is a huge fence round it so you can’t. I don’t see the point in having a park that you can’t just walk where you like, but it is London so obviously everybody does what they are told.
There was so much to see. There was a block of flats with a light outside that you switched on when you wanted a taxi to stop for you. There are plane trees everywhere, and a black man on a bicycle gave me the most enormous toothy smile.
Then there was the ballet.
It was called La Fille Mal Gardee. It was fantastic.
We clapped until our hands hurt, and they deserved it. It was funny and clever and beautiful all at once, and I was utterly blown away. If you get the chance to see it, do go. You really won’t regret it.
We came back to the hotel in a taxi, which was two miles and cost thirty quid, I don’t know why anybody ever complains about Lake District taxi fares. The taxis have got to be expensive here because the Mayor makes them pay so very much for everything, so it can’t be helped. We are supposed to be meeting a taxi driver tomorrow.
We finished the night with cocktails in the bar here. They were divine, and came in a tall bottle with a great deal of smoke, and enormous ice cubes. We might copy those, they are a good idea.
Mark has started to snore next to me. I had better turn the light off.
London is amazing.
