Letters from London #3

Okay, tomorrow I am definitely getting back to Paris-related matters, but boy, it's hard for me to resist the lure of a) reminiscing and b) being able to post just by pasting in something I already wrote.  Sorry, gentle readers, you know I love you and of course I want to put in all sorts of effort for you...but not today.  Hee!

December 2000:

1. Housing: Obviously there was some sort of major computer malfunction at the North Pole this year, because even though I've been very naughty, Santa still brought me a great big apartment as a Christmas gift!  Yes, it's true.  In the great tradition of seasonal miracles, I was rescued from the Dickensian misery of the hostel in the Jolly Old Saint Nick of time.  The apartment is in a cool area, it's huge, in a great building with a very large garden, and it's affordable.  Of course, this probably means that my roommates (English guy, Australian girl) will turn out to be devil-worshippers who sacrifice goats and howl at the moon every second Tuesday, but as long as they don't expect me to bear Satan's child, we'll get along fine.  Yes, I did watch "Rosemary's Baby" recently, why do you ask?

2. Theatre: Last month, in the pursuit of cultural enrichment, I attended the theatre in the company of three other refined ladies out for an evening of intellectual stimulation.  Yes, it was that masterpiece of Australian theatre: "Puppetry of the Penis".  Well, what can I say?  The ad is not misleading in any way -- there are indeed two men, there are definitely two dicks, and there are no pants whatsoever.  It's a little bit hard to describe what they do, other than to say that they manipulate their genitals to look like landmarks, animals, and objects (and there is a very large video screen so that you don't miss a single close-up detail).  The two gentlemen involved seem to possess a great deal of, er, flexibility in their parts, because the aforementioned parts were twisted, bent, wrapped, curled, stretched, and even tucked away completely (and not the way you might think) in the course of an hour and a half.  It was very strange and very amusing, indeed.  Actually, my big worry after the show was whether or not I would ever be able to look at male genitals again in real life without a) laughing hysterically, or b) asking if it does tricks. 

3. This occurred to me the other day, and I find it mildly alarming: I have not had an alcohol-free day since I got here.  In Toronto, I used to go months and months without drinking (of course, this would usually follow an intoxicated binge where I completely disgraced myself, but that's totally not the point), but it's so much a part of the culture here to go for a few with your mates every night that you don't even think about it.  If I don't smarten up, my liver is very shortly going to be the size of my head.

4. I leave you with this final thought -- I saw a homeless man sleeping on the street the other night.  Suddenly, a mobile phone rang.  Was it mine?  Nope, it was his. London is an odd, odd town....