#3

8 days since my last entry. That's more like it.

Admittedly, it's getting a tad difficult to try and recall a week's worth of activities after such an absence. Perhaps I should invest in a pen and some paper.

Surprisingly, the weather has been, well, nice. I would even suggest that it's reached the point of 'mild' weather. The sun actually comes out regularly.

Londoners are strange. Ben and I were walking through Leicester square, minding our own business when we walked past a group of girls sitting on a bench. Strangely, they fell silent about 3 steps before we reached them, then "BAAH!" they scared the B-Christ out of us. What if I had a heart condition? Of course they laughed hysterically. Laugh it up.

Later on, in a nearby waffle shop, we were innocently trying to choose the flavour of our impending waffle. Three private school girls wander into the small shop. That's fine, it's a free country. The one nearest to me said something along the lines of
"I'm too poor, can you buy me one?"
I at first didn't realise she was talking to me. She was.
"Me?"
"Yes", she said while giving me the *please - if you don't buy me this waffle, my entire family will die in a car fire* look.
"Nope, sorry - I barely have enough money for myself".
Yadda yadda, there was banter after that. She eventually kind of scared me (a bit like last time) when she did a 'BOO' type of thing.

They were horrible at Australian accents.

St Patrick's day yesterday. London was packed with Aussies and Kiwis as much as Londoners and the Irish themselves. We started the afternoon at Waxy O'Conners at Leicester Square - an enormous pub which looked like it was carved out of rock or something. Good Guinness there. Good craic too.

We eventually moved on to Shepherd's Bush to a pub called O'Neill's. It was FULL of Aussies and Kiwis. So much so, that I talked to a solid group of Kiwis for upwards of half an hour. Admittedly, they only started talking to me because of my uncanny resemblance to Jon Heder. Two of them got photos with me, I thought that a fair payment would be a kiss on the cheek. So they did it, without hesitation.

A few pints later, I gave away all of my shrapnel to a group of Irish dancing girls and then got hit on by a strange group of London males who called me Fabio. It was at that point that I decided to leave. Promptly.

I did miss things in this entry. They might come up later on, they might not. Who knows!

Stay classy.