As part of my occasional attempts to understand how normal people live their lives I have decided to indulge in what is commonly referred to as a “holiday.”
Despite the etymology of this word it has, you will be glad to hear, no longer got anything to do with holiness. Instead the idea is that you just go somewhere for an extended period of time. A simple enough prospect, but like many other areas of life, it has been ruined by both stupidity and capitalism.
When my girlfriend first suggested that we take a holiday I immediately leapt into action and ignored the idea for several years. When the suggestion evolved into insistence I boldly attempted to pass the suggestion onto a parliamentary committee for consideration. Unfortunately I am not a cabinet-based government, and this evasion failed.
Hence this trip. To be honest, I can’t see the point in coming to London, as I was here in the 1980s. It seemed to me highly unlikely that much could have changed, and the fact that I would no longer be viewing the city with the wide eyed innocence of a child means that I’d fail to be impressed.
My predictions were, as usual, correct.
Last time I was here London was large, smelly and ruled by Tories. This time, ditto. In fact the only change seems to be that there is no longer great aunt and great uncle showering me with sweets. No wonder there has been so much talk about “Broken Britain” lately.
London, and in fact England as a whole, still lags far behind the civilised world when it comes to simple matters like currency. I’d managed to avoid visiting a Bureau de Change for several years, as the Euro works in proper countries, and I had a big stack of Sterling left over from my trips to Scotland and the occupied territories.
However it seems that not only are the English refusing to accept normal money, they also have difficulty accepting sterling. I had to get mine changed as it was originally issued by banks in remote places like Belfast or Edinburgh. Napoleon, it seems, was both short and stupid. He described the Saxons as a nation of shopkeepers, but what shopkeeper would turn down legal tender?
Apart from such eccentricities, which must be endured by cosmopolitan travelers such as myself, the English are actually quite a pleasant people when they aren’t invading places. While I have been on the receiving end of many a sullen stare, and six stabbings since arriving here, it’s quite clear from my time travelling about the town that this has been in no way racist. The Londoners spend their time glaring at, and attacking with knives, each other. They’ve clearly moved on from the anti-Irish racism of yesteryear, and are now prepared to abuse us as equals.
Later today I shall be testing some of the pubs in the area to see if they are acceptable. I am not optimistic.
