London is a strange place. Everyone is going somewhere or doing something. It’s noisy. Busy. Fun. Oh and just in the road that I live on there are 9 “Pret A Manger’s” – great for if you love porridge not so cool when you have very little money!
It’s my third day living here and already it feels like home, apart from the serious lack of Cornish beaches. But then again I didn’t expect to find those anyway!
I arrived in the city on Sunday morning after being finally let out of hospital on Saturday. I had under two hours to pack up my life, which basically resulted in 8 suitcases and about 6 boxes in the end (oh and the duck who travelled alone)!
My journey here was hilarious, we brought the van (loaded to the brink with stuff) and stayed in a Travelodge on the outskirts of London. Mum, Grandad and I all sat up the front in a line – which was a tight fit from the start, even tighter once Mum started to fall asleep on me, chatting away to herself and snoring all at the same time. We got costa, bearing in mind my Grandad is used to tiny cups for his coffee, he ordered a medium which took him three hours to drink. Yum, cold coffee. I had a strawberry and lime frappachino, which I don’t suppose anyone knows if they put milk or yoghurt in it? (THANKS!)
We arrived in London about five hours after we left, only to find that Nandos, a South African inspired Chicken restaurant, was opposite the hotel (win win win). My Grandad’s response to “what do you want from the menu?” was: “Chicken..” (typical). I had my usual complex order of a chicken wrap minus the chilli jam with extra cheese, marinated in lemon and herb with chips and coleslaw.. I highly recommend. I definitely don’t recommend the “Hot” Nando’s sauce however.
The hotel room had the heating on (like what even, it was 26 degrees outside, admittingly in September but still). So we roasted for a bit, whilst my Grandad being the slightly strange Cornish man that he is, stuck his feet out the window, set up the TV so it was facing him along with the fan… Strange, I tell you.
The next day we drove into London after spending half an hour drooling over the Aston Martin garage, anyone got £120,000 they fancy donating to me? Arrrr you babe.
Right so imagine this: a Cornish man, a satnav that doesn’t understand and gets angry if you ignore it, a city of which the Cornish man hates, a one way system and a van that is too tall to fit into any carpark that doesn’t cost £26 an hour. Well that sums up my move in day.
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