Steve's moved up to England, so we hit a few tourist spots. I still remember walking the Tongirario Crossing and wanting to punch the British tourist who kept turning to us and exclaiming, "Oooh, there are hobbits here in this shire!" and words to that effect. Consequently, and not without irony, I dislike tourists.
Very lame touristy photos are here. Of note are the sculptures of people throwing up, spitting, and peeing. And they call it art.
***
The week's been so frantic that I've barely had time to process everything. Until yesterday, that is. On Friday I was so exhausted that I passed out on the Northern Line on the way back from work. A kindly lady woke me at the end of the line. "I think you have to get off the train." My eyes focused and when the world re-ordered itself, I found myself in High Barnet on an empty train.
So for my 28th, I had a quiet night in.
The following day I decided to do the loner thing and visit my old home in Tilehurst, Reading. I have heaps to say about it, but will leave that until later. Photos of those little places that I used to remember as a kid are here, although this will probably bore the socks off everyone aside my immediate family.
***
Finally, Blog Idol starts on Monday! I have yet to be given a link to it, but if all goes well, I'll be blogging each day somewhere on stuff.co.nz's website.
No comments:
Post a Comment