I wasn't looking forward to coming to London - or, as I usually spell it oop North, Laaaaarndan - this weekend. I'm not here for sightseeing or anything remotely exciting; I am, in fact, currently holed up in my lovely hotel room at Charing Cross waiting for my wife's conference thingy at King's College to end, but just a few minutes on The Strand on a bustling Friday night has infected me with what can only be described as 'Giddy Londonitis'.
I didn't expect this to happen, and perhaps I am somewhat to blame for not obtaining the correct vaccinations against this highly infectious pathogen, but...well, I actually love it. Yes, really! It's busy, there are cars and traffic and elongated vowels everywhere, but there's a strange buzz of activity constantly surrounding you that's kind of addictive. It's like being in the centre of a hive, and probably has something to do with an excess of pheromones or something, and I can't wait to come back. I've already planned what we'll do next time, and we'll likely stay in the same hotel (website here). It's a place filled with history, lavish buildings, a wealth of people from pretty much anywhere and all in one place.
I love it. Bring on the tourist weekend!
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