This London, Last Night

Went out last night to meet Rog's ex-workmate come friend, the loverly Victoria.

We were supposed to meet at Victoria Station in the darkness of 5:30pm but I got there early so I decided to pop down to the palace to take a photo of the Queen's pad just to prove to you all that I am really here and not holed up in a kibutz outside Bendigo. If you look really really carefully at the upper right hand window you can't see the Queen.

We ate dinner at La Tasca, a chain of Spanish tapas bars (someone must have been thinking of me). Even though it is like the Starbucks (note the conspicuous absence of a link) the food is really quite authentic.

Now, many of you have been noting that Rog hasn't been appearing all that much on the site. Here is a short photo essay of why that has come about:


"Don't take a photo of me!"


"Did you just take a photo of me?"


"I think he just took a photo of you!"


"Did a light just fly past my head? Hello everyone, I'm Vic and I'm really nice."


"Hello, I'm here too!"

As you can see, it was a wonderful meal with lashings of red wine and a feast of inconsequential, nit-picky debate (I was in hog's heaven). And for all of the pounds that were put on many more were taken away.

From sunny Spain we ventured out into the cold and over to Zander. I am sure you all know my innate dislike of hotel bars but this one was acutally quite nice and had its own I'm-not-really-a-hotel-bar kind of atmosphere (provided you didn't happen to look in the direction of the hotel reception).

And just to prove that Rog isn't the only one who can take a bad photo:


"Are we really posing in a hotel bar?"
"Yes, but if you lean a little to your right, you will block out the view of reception with your body."
"Nah, don't worry; the camera is set to slow shutter so it will be all blurry and unrecognisable anyway."
"Hoorah!"

The highlight of the night, or at least the funniest part (excepting, of course, my lesbian at the gynecologist joke) was when Vic went up to order the second round of this fabulous beer called Bitburger (see glass) and mistakenly called it Furburger. I have absolutely no idea where on God's green Earth she came to be under the misapprehension that it was called Furburger, and I doubt I will ever know, but at least the cute barman found it amusing, almost as amusing as Vic herself did. She's a keeper!

And finally, I leave you with more proof that I am in London. Here is a pretty shot of the Green Park Underground sign (okay, yes, I could have chosen a more iconic station. Deal with it!).