So I have arrived in London to promote my book, whose UK cover appears below. The book is being published here under its original title, which means that either the British are not afraid of sex, or they're going to get a hell of a surprise.
It took a long, long time to get to London. In 28 hours of travel I watched two movies, read two magazines, watched two episodes of Modern Family, ate two meals, two snacks and several packets of trail mix, took two sleeping pills and slept for around eight hours, read about fifty pages of a book, stared into space vacantly for 90 minutes, and went to the toilet approximately 750 times.
I also talked a great deal to my mother, which might sound weird or spiritual, until you know that she is actually accompanying me on my trip to London and was sitting next to me the whole time.
We then took the express train into London. It was very clean and had nice big seats and TV screens showing Sky news, and it spoke to us in a ridiculously posh voice.
We got to our hotel, deposited our bags, then went for a walk around the area. Now, on the first afternoon of my trip, I can tell you that
a) Very few people sound British in London. Nearly all of them so far have sounded French, Indian, Pakistani, or some other unidentified, non-British accent. I'm disappointed. I want posh.
b) The taxis are super cute. They look like little Lego cars.
c) The place down the road made a nice egg sandwich.
d) Gap and Zara look much like they do in LA, except no-one jumps on you and excitedly asks 'Hey, how ARE you?'
e) Harrods is crazy expensive. I won't be stacking up on undies there.
f) I admired the beauty of the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Natural History Museum. But... er... I didn't actually go in.
g) 36 hours since leaving Sydney I still haven't had a shower. I think I'm going to go now.