I THINK MY BRAIN IS FULL

Alright?

I’ve just been thinking about my trip to London and the rather lacklustre reportage I delivered. Key elements of the night were missed out and I feel like I’ve swindled you all. Really, I do.

Asides from all the chucking up, there was an incident in a lift where four of us got in and one had to get out. Now, I’m not a massively fat bloke and, to be fair, neither were any of the people I was with, but when the alarm rang and we observed that the four of us weighed more than 525kg, or the equivalent of 7 people, I began to question whether or not an evening of Caribbean cuisine was such a good idea. Turns out it would have saved me at least an inch of stomach lining if I hadn’t bothered. Which, in turn, would have made subsequent lift journeys all the more easy. There’s a definite structure to life.

Sitting on a bus next to an old Rastafarian that breathes loudly through his nose is not entirely pleasant. The irony of a white girl in thick rimmed spectacles that knows the location of all the best West Indian food shops, eating a saltfish and ackee pattie, whilst said Rastafarian munches down on a dull, dry ham roll was not lost on me. By god, I wanted to give the man a tissue and make him blow his nose. One of the things I miss most about living in London is the public transport. It may not be comfortable or reliable, but it’s entertaining.

I’ve run out of things to say.