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Here comes the sun





Ahhh how London has changed from the inside out!


As the sun has finally made an appearance the city has changed, literally the streets are full with every man and their dog chatting and laughing and conversing. It’s as if all of these people were in hibernation over winter and have finally braved the daylight. Cafe’s are packed with people in Tooting and people fight to get good tables out in the sun and drink beer no matter what time of day it is, it’s almost the complete reverse effect of winter in that business stops for a minute but it’s for business owners to go out into the street and soak up the sun or to party rather than for people to hideaway from the snow.


The sound of the ice cream van has become common place although you never actually see the van you always hear it playing ‘Teddy Bears Picnic’ rather than the old faithful ‘green sleeves’



With the arrival of the sun comes party invites here there and everywhere, the first of which was Glen’s best mate Lenny. I took Roxanne along one sunny afternoon after work. Unfortunately I hadn’t reminded him that we were both sans meat but nevertheless we tucked into a salad and enjoyed the company. It was nice/strange being back in that house without Glen. But he has been encouraging me to get out and meet new people so I have been trying to accept most offers.




Working in a sociable job helps too. The next party was Sally Ann’s from work which ended up being a sausage fest as more guys showed up than girls. We started out  in the boat shed in Kingston which is lovely but very popular so quite crowded, you would never know its there because you have to walk through a park to get there and it’s right on the water and people simply grab a pint and either sit in the beer garden or lay out on the grass by the water it’s lush in the sun.




I ended up in the corner talking to a group of guys about their extensive porn knowledge, before regaling them with tales about Australia. Most people I run into here are convinced that Australia is rife with things that can kill you on a daily basis. Snakes that make their way down the street and hide in your toilet, crocodiles in the pool. And my personal favorite drop bears. I politely remind them that if it was that dangerous to live there then why is it inhabited by 20 million humans? We don’t learn crocodile wrestling 101 in school, we aren’t taught how to treat a snake bite, the average person wouldn’t know a deadly snake from a venomous one and so on and so forth. Meanwhile poor Sally the host of the evening was so smashed that she was wandering around the house with a huge bump on her forehead looking for more wine, her ex had passed out face down on the gas top stove with his crack peeking out from his low slung jeans so we amused ourselves by pouring cocoa pops and milk down there for a laugh, he didn’t even flinch mind you. And Sam from work was teaching me how to do a Somerset accent. Before coming here I would’ve recognised that accent from TV as the accent that English farmers have that haven’t been to the big city before and only have sheep as company. Now I can pinpoint exactly where it’s from when I hear it.


About a week or two later broke as anything we went out in search of fun after work one evening, this time ending up at the Chessington Oak which is an incredibly cheap pub where you can get a large glass of wine for £1.40 and the food was really reasonable too. I ended up tucking into a sundae randomly which in hindsight probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do mixed with alcohol – but oh well live and learn. They have karaoke there and pub quizzes too and a few of the girls ended up getting up to sing as the wine was flowing freely by this stage. Before we knew it we were on a bus headed for Kingston singing along to Sally’s blaring iPhone completely unaware of our surroundings in true drunken style.