Sentience in a seed-pod

So it's the first of November and I'm marginally excited. I'm excited because November is my birth month and I'm mercilessly self-obsessed (-possessed?). For the same reason green is my favourite colour (my eyes) and brunettes are my favourite girls.

Anyhow, I'm here in or near London where I'd hoped I'd not be till next year. I'd always had this hope to go to every continent before setting foot in Blighty, mainly because most people do it the other way around and I'm bloody-minded that way.

I'm sick. I hate being sick. And it doesn't help that it's cold and rainy here. I'm upbeat though. This weekend I went looking for Wombles in Wimbledon Common, which is pretty much just a golf course now. I have a few theories about the Wombles, but that's a subject for a later pictorial exposé.

I saw my friend Jo, and we ventured into the dark underbelly of South African expat London, which I found is almost exactly like the dark underbelly of South African Joburg. Rugby is big, beer is big, music is cover versions of eighties hits. Geoff was not loving this, although Jo continues to be a joy.

On Sunday we did Harrods and I saw £4000/kg white truffles. I want to start a truffle farm in Hogsback and fly into Cape Town in my Apache gunship for the weekends. How hard could it be?

By the way, I flew Business Class to London for no good reason. It would have been perfect, but they took away my window seat for the privilege. I was a bit put out until I realised that my seat was mechanised and I could spend the whole trip making my footrest go up and down. I was surprised to find that it was actually more comfortable than economy. But then I fell asleep, so I missed most of it. Oh, and they took my coat when I got on. That was cool. But there were no movie stars around. They all fly first class, which I think is nicer because the seats are a different colour.

Alright, I'm off home to convalesce. Night babies.