London Spring 2017: Boardgames, Aquariums and Matilda the Musical

When Shannon first suggested I come down to visit her, she asked if I wanted to go to Theatreland for a show. Now I’ve done theatre before and never really like it but a show in London was too good an opportunity to pass up, especially when Shannon found tickets for Matilda the Musical.

I did know one thing: that if you ring some theatres and explain you’re wanting to book tickets on behalf of someone with a disability, you can often get a discount or just a plus one. The same works with other attractions (like the London Aquarium), as long as you can prove things (which I can). But the theatre took us on Shannon’s word and we ended up with nearly £60 worth of tickets in the stalls, six rows from the front of the stage.

Epic win.

Despite having tiny seats, I loved this show. The music was amazing (and is my current go-to playlist on Spotify) and I really enjoyed the play. The acting was superb, especially Matilda and Miss Trunchbull. I also really liked the focus not on Matilda’s telekinesis but her story-telling abilities and her love of reading as well as the expansion of the Magnus back story. There was a small snafu in the form of one of the actresses being sick but once that was sorted (understudies FTW), the show went on an all was well.

Before the show, we went to Starbucks Reserve in Covent Garden. We actually came across it by accident, seeking coffee and a place to kill an hour. We had no idea what it was until we walked in and I realised we hit paydirt. Starbucks Reserve is basically a restaurant that happens to specialise in coffee; there’s even a Clover which I’ve been itching to try since reading about them in Wired. We were guided to our table (it’s basically the sit-down waitered form of a traditional Starbucks) and offered menus.

I wanted to try the Clover and, oh my gods, was it the best, smoothest coffee I’ve ever tasted. That said, I did feel a bit out of my depth, like we shouldn’t have been allowed in. It is a very high brow Starbucks and I’m looking forward to going back there in a couple of weeks.

We also visited the London Aquarium, getting there early on Saturday morning before everyone else turned up. We took the bus (which was free and actually okay, Shannon’s been trying to teach me the London bus system and it has its own twisted logic) to Embankment and walked to County Hall. I actually didn’t realise that the London Dungeon had moved there as well. It was nice and quiet when we arrived, which was a good thing because, by the time we got out around noon, the place was heaving.

Lots and lots of kids. Eugh.

The Aquarium itself was cool. I got to pet a starfish and ogle some jellyfish and a grumpy old turtle. Oh and the massive tank with Easter Island Maoi and lots of sharks, that was awesome. It’s not something I’d do again, except for visiting their new and in-construction jellyfish exhibit. That was a bit sad, walking through the final section all covered in sheets and empty tanks.

Bef0re heading to our showing of Ghost in the Shell, we actually went to a nearby pub to play boardgames. I got to learn how to play Carcassonne which quickly became my new favourite game. We also got to play Pandemic too, which is always fun, especially as I pulled ‘One Quiet Night’.

The most fun, I think, was meeting Shannon’s housemates and playing on the PS4. We tried Horizon: Zero Dawn and Shannon got to experience Alien: Isolation. We actually spent Sunday night watching the original Alien movie on Blu-Ray, which stands up amazingly well given its age. I definitely want a PS4 (mainly so I can climb mechanical giraffes in Horizon: Zero Dawn) but that can wait for now.

I’m actually going to the Women in Fantasy book signing at Waterstones (which I’m psyched about) next week so more London posts will be incoming. I’m also going to be making a point of doing interesting things, returning to the Starbucks Reserve and, hopefully, wandering Covent Garden.

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Bath, Winter 2016: The Christmas Market Mini-break

I don’t ‘do’ Christmas, too many bad memories and I’m not a fan of the encroaching darkness or the cold weather. However I’m also really keen to change my perspective on the season and rewrite the crap memories with better ones. This includes going places with my friend, Shannon, who appreciates the chance to explore other places while living in London.

Bath has a massive three week Christmas Market and the entire city takes it very seriously. I’ve wanted to see it for years but bus trips down are expensive. Also because of Uni things were difficult (coaches and dogs don’t mix, there’s simply not enough room). I saw a three day trip advertised for over £200 and the accomedation wasn’t even in Bath! Fortunately, between us, Shannon and I are savvy travellers and knew we could do a similar trip of our own devising for half that so I sorted the train and she did the accomedation. Our normal choice of the White Hart Inn was booked up so we managed to get a room at the YMCA on the northern side of the town. It was cheaper than the inn but also a bit more of a walk.

Shannon had to work so she ended up coming in on Monday night, giving me the entire day to travel down (I was down by 2pm) from Dereham, check in and do whatever my little heart desired until she got in just before 9pm. I ended up having dinner and a pint of Somerset cider at my favourite pub, wandering the market as it got dark and going to the Thermae Spa (disabled people get in for 1/2 price or with a free companion which is a bonus). I ended up curling up in a Caffé Nero by the bus station which was, to my surprise and delight, open super late till 10pm with The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms.

Glorious! Oh and there were even a few, magical, flakes of snow as I wandered, sipping mulled apple juice.

Tuesday was our only actual day in Bath so we decided on our own walking tour, dipping in and out of shops, having Japanese food at a kaiten sushi place for lunch. We walked around the market (I got to explain that if you say ‘let’s get a mulled cider’ in Britain before half past eleven, people will think you’re an alcoholic; Americans and Canadians think ‘cider’ is non-alcoholic. It’s not and never should be. Especially not in Somerset). But that amused me no end; for just a second I though Shannon was serious.

I got to sit in a lovely little coffee shop that could only seat fifteen or so people, right on the bridge by the weir. This has memories for us as we passed it while walking into Bath for the first time, with Uni, along the tow-path. Shannon wanted to visit a maze so I sat and had a drink while she nipped across the bridge. I spent the time percolating an idea I’d had for a short story based on a city with a visible but hidden second one beneath it; Bath has an entire network of streets and passages under the paths that you can see if you look at the houses, most of which have basement floors. It’s in full view but no one notices it, it takes a tour guide to show you (ditto the Masonic iconography). It was just screaming to be used in a fantasy story involving magic and arcane things.

After lunch and a pit stop, we headed our again, this time to look properly at the market. It was starting to get busier and had plenty of free samples when it came to food and alcohol. I’d discovered rhubarb vodka and adored it; I’m not a vodka person ever but I do love rhubarb and this was delicious (and available, cheaper, on Amazon *grins*). I also got to introduce Shannon to good, proper, honey mead; it’s sweet as fuck but delicious in small doses. Oh and cheese! So much cheese! I came home from Bath with a wheel, quietly maturing in my spare room, and some of the best cheese straws I’ve ever tasted.

Then we went to the spa and spent two glorious hours in the healing waters (seriously, my feet didn’t ache when we left though the chlorine/walking has really agrevated my still-healing, post-op scar). One of my few happy memories of childhood/adolescence is going to Center Parcs at Elvedon and spending the dark evenings outside in the rapids, watching as steam billowed off the hot water. By the time we got in, it was black as night and dead quiet too. The pool inside, downstairs, has a beautiful light display but the pool on the roof was breathtaking, stream rolling off it and a blue, almost bioluminescence to the water thanks to some well placed lights. Actually Monday night was more impressive; it was fucking freezing and the hot water/cold night combo was really impressive. I got to watch the sunset too. We floated, we swam, we enjoyed the jacuzzi bubbles and the steam rooms. It was chilled out (bar near-obsessive clock watching).

We left at nine and were in the Odeon down the road shortly after with ice cream and everything. Shannon hadn’t seen Fantastic Beasts yet so it seemed the perfect (and free) way to end the day. Actually, on the finance front I was expecting to spend a lot more than I did. I was amazed how reserved I was when it came to the stalls but much of the stuff I had no need or use for. Though it was a lot of fun to visit.

Wednesday was going home day but we were going to enjoy the morning first. Shannon was hunting Pokémon (you can tell people who do that because of how their hands move on their phones/carrying powerpacks), resulting in some interesting pictures. Bath has some weird Christmas displays from the baubles in a telephone box to a giant deck chair and several igloo-bauble things. The cool thing is wandering the Southgate area, the modern shopping complex near the station, and just stumbling on things you don’t expect to be there.

The journey home wasn’t too bad. We got coffee and I read, then we caught the train in a nice, calm manner back to Paddington. We didn’t get lost which just proves I need a dog because I can’t concentrate on walking and trying to navigate. Uni was awesome at exits and I, sadly, am not. That said, it was nice not to have to go out in the rain or the dark so she could pee and we were able to reallty maximise our time. I still want New Dog though and this just confirmed it.

Shannon and I parted at Paddington. We went into the wrong part of the station and took the Circle line so I had to change at Edgware Road (I miss the old Circle where you could go either way) which wasn’t too bad as I had my GoBag which made steps and escalators a breeze. Despite the echoes of the called-off Tube strike, it was easy to get back to Liverpool Street so I took myself off for ramen. I’d actually specifically scheduled a food break and I ended up with time to sit in Starbucks with a cold drink as well. Oh, my train home wasn’t cancelled and I managed to catch my bus perfectly.

The cats missed me (despite not starving) which was nice. They’re all being super-friendly and affectionate in acknowledgement that, sometimes, I vanish for a few days. I admit, I really should have bought that wooden plaque which said ‘dogs have owners but cat have staff’. It’s true and I’m glad they appreciate me.

I’m looking forward to going back to Bath for a writing retreat in the spring, it’s a nice place to go for a few days and it was great to be able to go to the movies for a late showing without having to worry about getting home. Bath is a tiny town compared to Norwich but it has a lot more in it, oh and all the designer stores you could want. I don’t but it’s nice to have the constrast between the modern shops and the little indie stores selling random stuff as well as the Roman and Georgian sections of town. Next time I do want to visit the Temple of Minerva though.

Overall an awesome trip. Definately some good memories to put into the bank.

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Uni’s Week Really Sucked

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Poor Uni hasn’t had a good week.

It started last Friday during lunch out where my friend Marie got to see what life with a guide dog is really like (aka the abuse we need to put up with from cretins). Seriously: she genuinely had no idea that people still believed—erroneously, I might add—that assistance dogs are somehow forced into working.

Anyone who has a dog, particularly flatties, knows this is dog poop.

Uni loves working. Okay, specifically, she loves the fuss, attention and compliments, I’m just a sideline into getting those, though she hasn’t yet got me killed and genuinely does look out for me. We’re, collectively, one of the more open pairings and allow most people a chance to pet Uni, bonus points are awarded for those who ask/who have children who love dogs.

Uni’s tarty attitude is part of her charm, she’s aware of her specialness particularly when coupled by her ‘gorgeousness’ which is the one word everyone uses when confronted with her. This is also why most people remember the dogs’ names and not their humans’. I’m just as guilty as this but given a choice between spending my day with dogs or humans, I’ll take the hounds, especially if that happens to be Bramble, most beloved of all guide dogs.

Anyway, it was a good day until this woman—whom Marie nicknamed ‘the old hag’, I neither agree with nor condone this but she chose her words well—started making eye contact with Uni. She was behind me, as was Un. Marie and I were happily chatting over very nice lunches. I assumed Uni was begging as she’d moved so tapped on her nose, told her to go ‘down’ into a lying position and returned to my pork carvery.

I’m trying not to feed Uni as much, as I’m poor and not feeding her means a smaller portion/skipping a starter = less money spent. Plus she behaves better when she’s not expecting a side of meat or a Yorkshire. Most places we go into bend over backward for us though and Uni likes Jarrolds because it’s busy/she gets a literal bucket of water before we’ve even sat down.

Marie and I are chatting, mostly about my desire to learn to knit and we decide it’s time to move out, I turn around to put Uni back into her working gear. She’d been off-harness, as she is in the picture above, because that’s more comfortable but you can still tell she’s a guide dog as she has a ‘DO NOT FEED ME’ sign on her lead (which fails more miserable than I do). She was sporting a nice bandana and wanted for nothing but my dinner.

Woman as I’m bending down to clip Uni’s ‘neon bra’ (Marie’s idea; I love it): “When did you last give that dog water?”

Me, a tad confused, guestures to the bucket and ignores her.

“When did you last feed her?”

This, FYI, isn’t a good way to start a conversation with a guide dog owner.

Me: “Excuse me?”

“When did you last feed your dog?”

A bit shocked but trying to be polite. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.”

“She looks so hungry.”

Stunned now, tired and sensing confrontation: “She’s perfectly fine, thank you. Does she look underfed?”

Uni is a 30kg flat coat cross golden retriever. She doesn’t look starved in any way shape or form. Except for those big brown eyes, of course. Plus her hair is growing back in so if anything she’s starting to look larger than she is. Uni wasn’t at fault in this at all.

“I suppose they don’t have any choice, being dragged out.”

The next table have noticed, murmurings beginning. Righteous anger is starting to flood my soul as I channel my terrifying and beloved friend, Mhairi (who eats people like this for lunch): “You cannot force a dog to do anything she doesn’t want to do. She chooses to do her job and loves it.”

I know this because Uni has spent all morning, in Marie’s company, wagging her tail and generally acting noble and showing off because there’s a adopted member of her pack around (other members include: Shannon and Beloved Niece).

Woman gives me a look, not believing a word of it. She’s decided I’m abusing my dog and there’s no changing her mind. I half expected her to state she’s going to call the RSPCA (newsflash: not the right charity) which someone declared they were going to do to me several years prior.

The neighbouring table say things I don’t recollect, bar that I wanted to hug them for being supporting.

I’m raging in my fury by this point but also calm. I know the accusations; I also know the answers.

I am calm in my righteous anger, tell the woman she needs to educate herself more about assistance dogs before daring to decide a working dog is in anyway being taken advantage off. Neighbouring table tells her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I pat the elderly gent on the shoulder as I pass him and whisper: “Thank you!”

We leave hurridly but not after I speak to the staff, who apologise. I have no idea if they took it further.

I’m rattled; Uni knows this. Marie is absolutely furious on my behalf. I’m left, though, not with a sense of ‘I did the right thing’ but a pressing desire to ring Peterborough, which is GDO code for ‘speak to Guide Dogs for validiation/make them aware in case The Woman does indeed have enough brains to find the right charity and call them’.

I’m not doing for validation though, even as I know I’ll get it. I’m doing that because it’s me versus a complainant. I’ve been falsely accursed before, as have others I know because some member of the public’s decided a repremand was ‘harsh’. Mhairi, for example, seldom repremands Bramble but when she does she doesn’t shout, she goes Full Scottish and that sounds terrifying. It triggers me but I also understand the reason for it, which somewhat mitigates the terror. Mhairi has much less vision than I do which means Bramble has to work harder and her not paying attention could have much nastier consequences than simply walking into something.

Five minutes later they hug and all is forgiven but the repremand must be given or the dogs think it’s okay. It’s how the relationship works. Think small child and a fire but the GDO is the one who will get burned.

I sometimes shout but I can’t do low and menacing. I’m much better than I used to be, nor am I the only one to be accused of shouting at the dog. Indeed I was reminded a few weeks ago, after someone with a dog was reported (matching my description) swearing. Like full on f***ing and blinding at their dog. I will swear, but in conversation and never AT Uni. I also have an alibi and there are a lot of middle-aged, short, overweight women in Norfolk with black dogs. I’m reassured that I know for certain it wasn’t me and that everyone matching that description got phone calls that morning.

We moved to Caffe Nero and I ended up having to call my instructor, who is lovely and busy. I hate bothering him but couldn’t get through to Peterborough but he confirmed I acted in the right (yay!) and mentally logged the incident. Done. Uni was rewarded with fuss and even more water, as well as dog biscuits I use to bribe her. But it was Marie’s first taste at how we’re sometimes treated and she was mortified, both for me (I’m, frankly, used to it by now) and Uni.

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Fast forward to Monday; thanks to running Uni and Brams at Eaton Park over the weekend, my anxiety about dealing with people had almost dissipated. The first few days after an incident always makes me anxious but today is a good day because Best Geek Friend Forever Shannon is down from London. I’m calm, despite the fact she’s coming on a replacement bus and it’s a Bank Holiday (never a good combo. Ever). This isn’t Shannon’s fault and I reminded her that it’s a sign of true Britishness if you know never to travel on trains on Sundays/Bank Holidays.

Shannon arrives, an hour late but ‘on time’ in terms of her bus, and we’re there to meet her. It’s a hot day, Uni has had all the water should could want, has been sat in the shade, in in full bandana-mode and I’ve just dumped a Venti cup of tap water over her to help cool her down. Shannon arrives, Uni goes into full on ‘OMVFGs it’s YOU’ mode. She dances, there is joy.

Then she throws up. Twice.

A woman gives me The Look but vomit it something I’m not legally required to deal with. We move away, I assume Uni’s just Excited (because she does it with a capital) so we head back into the city to meet Mhairi and Lorna and go to Wagamamas for lunch (yay!). Things are going awesomely; we have food and Uni is sitting with a bowl of water on a nice cold stone floor. All is well; then she starts making a noise all pet owners will recognise.

Mhairi assumed she was peeing and told me to her outside except it was all the wrong colour. Plus it wasn’t vomit; it was bile. There was nothing in her stomach at this point. I took her outside; she shakes, all’s well. We apologise to the lovely staff who come and clean up the biohazard mess in a packed restaurant. I’m filled with shame and starting to wonder if something’s up; Uni is still her excited self and being obedient so we finish our food.

Ten minutes later, more of the same comes out of her, this time in EE.

At this point I realise Uni is in fact sick. Common sense fled and (despite having her Vet Book on me, which would have allowed me to walk into any surgery in the city and get them to look at Uni), we decide to go home. I’ve specifically told Mhairi, if this happens again, to physically drag me to the  nearest vet. I was assuming. you see, that it was heat stroke, for which a vet can do nothing, except make sure she has fluids, is drinking and has time to recover. Uni wasn’t dehydrated, she was drinking when water was offered and she seemed her normal self.

Nope.

She threw up again on the bus, thankfully just before we needed to get off. I apologised, the bus driver was awesome about it and Uni seemed better by the time we got home. I put on the fan, open the windows, covered her in a wet towel and rang my vet, glad of out of hours. I got to talk to my vet but didn’t realise my surgery was actually open (I assumed it was like the NHS where the on-call surgery changes weekend to weekend so, for example, when I had toothache, I had to go to Wroxham instead of Aylsham). I assumed, even if they needed to see her, I’d have to take her half way across the county.

Frankly, I’ve never needed out of hours before. This sounds like I’m justifying but you have to understand I come from a background where things were either ‘treated’ (aka guestimated/diagnosed wrongly using a process of elimination and only then bothering a GP if the ailment persisted).

Vet was reassured that Uni was drinking like a fish, more than she usually would even in the heat, and I agreed to see how she was and bring her in first thing the following morning. No food would pass her lips until then which Uni didn’t seem too bothered by. She spent the afternoon being fine, obviously very under the weather and not vomiting. We went to Zumba, leaving her dead to the world and looking distinctly ‘ill’ (black dogs don’t do pale). She came and slept with me during the night but seemed okay; I had to do an emergency clean up because, being the angel Uni is, she doesn’t tell you when she’s ill and had thrown up on the mat by the door a couple of times (which is why I have a doormat/plastic matting combo).

I cleaned up and took her to the appointment. She was much improved by this point and the treatment was standard: an anti-emetic, a quick check of her backside to make sure it wasn’t colitis (which she’s had and even I can diagnose; it’s nasty as). We traded diagnoses and decided it was either heatstroke or she’d eaten something which disagreed with her (aka scavenged). I couldn’t remember her doing it but then she’s a sneaky bugger and I am blind. The point is, she was much improved and I got three tins of the dog food equivalent of chicken and rice for her.

Five minutes later, as we had to walk the mile home due to missing the bus, she brought up yellow bile and I was reassured. Green is bad, yellow is just acid reflux easily cured by giving her something to eat. Her stomach was empty, ergo the yellow nastiness.

We gave her the day to sleep it off and that was what cured her. No pressure, no undue exposure to the heat and a chance to chill out. The injection stopped the vomiting, she kept the food down and her body reset itself. Cured.

She’s now fine. We’ve taken her on another run, she’s chilled out and been her normally, happy self even as she’s been clingy. That’s a symptom of post-sick guide dogs, they’re like small children in that they need hugs and reassurance when they’re under the weather. She’s been voluntarily taking to the shade, content with large quantities of water and a ball stolen from Bramble. The run did her good as it’s the one time when she’s not working, can socialise and not be a guide dog. Watching her run with Bramble, especially, is like watching canine ballet and the day was made even more special by our first/last picnic of the summer.

Sometimes it’s the little things … and the dog biscuits.

I’m just glad she’s okay, frankly. She’s so seldom ill that when she is, it really hits home. Especially as she goes into ‘brave little soldier’ mode so you can’t tell until she’s Really Sick that she’s even under the weather. Between abuse and vomiting, it’s been one tough week for her so I’m pleased a new one is beginning and we can move on as fast as possible. Though I do still have to go into some places and hope they won’t remember us purely for the vomit.

One thing at a time …

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Research Trip: London (May 2016)

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On Monday, I finally got to go back to London. My friend Shannon lives down there and it’s been nearly six months since we last caught up. Plus Uni adores her (like top one percent of her Favourite Humans List) and it’s always hilarious when my dog goes nuts in a public place in full gear, behaving like she’s off-harness. Oh and Shannon is an adopted pack member; if we meet up and Shannon leaves her line of sight, Uni will whine/go find her.

Yeah, my guide dog loves her more than me.

Seriously she goes bonkers.

Plus we had plans. Shannon let me know there was a Leonardo Da Vinci exhibition at the Science Museum (one of my favourite places) and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I’ve been researching computers and space travel for “When the Stars Fade” and The Fractured Era (which, while we’re on the subject is apparently the first book in a duology. The second book is currently titled The Broken World). I got to see a replica of Sputnik and the beauty above. Seeing a space capsule to scale, well it really hammered home how much claustrophobia and space travel do not play nicely when put next to each other.

Now normally, on account of my escalator phobic/untrained guide dog, London is freaking stressful. However I discovered that the TfL site now has accessibility options on their journey planner which includes the beautiful words ‘stairs, not escalator’. This meant I could easily plan trips to and from the Science Museum and we walked part-way, from the South Kensington tube station, in glorious sunshine and the beginnings of the hottest day of the year.

Now, though it takes my brain some time to engage in ‘summer mode’, Uni and I are pretty good at dealing with it. I carry cold water and douse her in it periodically, I carry a bandana which I can use to cool the blood flowing through the back of her neck (wet it with cold water then tie it = cooler dog). I  also carry an uchiwa fan from Nara which helps and is easier to use than the usual kind of fan. We needed it in the un-air-conditioned basement of the museum, even the staff were overheating.

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I admit I was a bit disappointed with the exhibition, it was a bit small and had some replicas but not the well known inventions. But it was a fun way to spend an hour. We then got the bus to Piccadilly (surprisingly easy and free for me as my bus pass works in London) which gave us time for a late lunch at Shoryu, a trip to the Japan Centre (which I could actually access). I got myself a couple of kitchen bits plus an awesome pair of zori, heeled tatami flipflops which are super-comfy, if expensive. They also give me an inch in height, which always helps when you’re five foot one-ish.

We ended up walking into Leicester Square via Chinatown which was just nice. The day was gorgeous and I got to see my first durian fruit (the ones which stink to high heaven) and ponder over how many fruit use the character for dream (夢) in their names. Oh and something called a Thai jackfruit (also massive). I love Chinatown from the dual-linguistics on the signs to the stone dragons that I can never tell apart (Shannon, who lived in China for a while, pop quizzes me on their genders and I always get it wrong).

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We ended a glorious day sitting in The Moon Under Water in Leicester Square, enjoying a frosty pint (I now drink once in a blue moon, which is awesome). I used to go there when I was a uni student and it’s, surprisingly, hard to spot given it’s next to the Odeon. Shannon had no idea it was there and it was far too hot to sit outside, especially when my medication means I’m light sensitive (from both a visual and an ‘I burn like paper’ perspective).

The downside was that Leicester Square’s tube station isn’t accessible so I had to get a cab back to Liverpool Street. I’d factored this in (it costs £20) because it’s a route I used to do a lot, though from Piccadilly Circus rather than Leicester Square. I’m not made of money but there was no way I was going to walk all the way to County Hall and Westminster in London heat and super sore feet.

I ended the day as I began it, sitting in first class watching Game of Thrones and bemoaning how much time it took to watch Sailor Moon Crystal. Even better the train had been upgraded with lovely new seats and, joy of infinite joys, power points! Seriously, I’ve been traveling that route for two decades and it’s taken that long for the train companies who run the route to realise that power is just as important as WiFi. Oh and air conditioning.

Oh and air conditioning.

On a scale of one to Hell, this was also one of the most stress-free trips I’ve done in ages. We got back into Norwich with plenty of time to spare, allowing me a leisurely hobble (I’d walked six miles over the course of the day) to catch my bus. Uni was a star everywhere we went, from sitting quietly under the table in Shoryu to snoozling in the wheelchair space while I wrote on the way home.

It was an exhausting day but it’s so nice to be able to escape to the capital and do stuff. I’m already planning another trip, both Shannon and I want to go to the British Museum to see the Sunken Cities exhibit opening later this month. Plus I will never ever skip a chance to eat proper ramen.

Nom.

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