Why London

That's what I've been thinking lately.

My 'I love London' moments have become less and less frequent recently and I can't put my finger on why. Everything is great, so surely I can't be over it yet? The thing is, most people get the urge to 'go home', mine is more like, 'where to next?' At the moment it's like I'm at a really good party, I'm still having fun but I feel the urge to leave before it gets really crap and I end up seeing 50 year old Uncle Chester groping a 17 year old on the dance floor. By the way, I'm not sure why my otherwise happening party turned into some weird family reunion type event during the course of a sentence.

So where to next? That is the million Pound, US, Euro, AUD question for my itchy, non tinea infected feet. I'm comfortable and I don't want to be. If I wanted to opt for comfort, I'd do it in a place where I didn't have to catch germ infected transportation for an hour everywhere I went and where the weather was better. I'm feeling a bit frustrated. Surely there's more to this thing that is my adventure. Because I don't know what I want to do, I'm waiting for something to happen, albeit magically, as it usually does. But I want it now. I feel like stamping my feet and throwing a tanty at fate or whatever the hell it is that chooses shit like this.

Ever since I started travelling I find it hard to sit still. Is this my life? One where I'm always on the search for something new? Of course, it's not such a bad thing. In fact, it's kind of exciting. I decided the other day that I would try and do something that made me uncomfortable every day. Then, of course, I forgot about it, but now I've remembered, perhaps I'll actually do it. But let's not go into anything blindly, the chance of it happening/me remembering are slim to none. It's kind of like the time I decided I was going to smile everyone at the tube everyday. Sooooo didn't happen. Actually, the last time I smiled at someone on the tube was when I was trying to take my cardigan off but had too many bags containing food to hold. There was a guy standing opposite me who had his hand out in a gesturing type pose. Now, he may or may not have offered to hold my bag for me. He didn't actually use any words per say but he had his hand out and he looked eager. So I gave it to him. Then I smiled. I'm still not sure if he was actually offering or not.

Speaking of blind people, I went to the most amazing restaurant last week. It's a restaurant where you eat in the dark and you have no idea what it is you're eating. And when I say dark, I mean a pitch black. The waiters and waitresses are all blind and while I don't for a second understand what it is to be blind, you get, for an hour and a half, a glimpse into their world. From the menu, you chose between surprise anything, meat, vegetarian and fish. I chose 3 courses of anything and it was one of the best meals I've had in a while. The first course was duck pancakes, main ostrich and venison and for dessert, mango pudding and a berry parfait. I ended up eating with my fingers. I'd pay anything to see what we all looked liked stuffing ourselves with our hands. I even licked my bowl after the dessert and then stuck my finger up at everyone just cause I could. Yes, I am totally mature.

Hmm, I've tired myself out now with this frantic typing. Plus I've worked another 10.5 hour day being all 'eager'. So, night!