Educating Killi

Now I've experienced the joy of getting out of London, I can't wait to find myself once more outside the confines of a place where it seems to be perfectly acceptable for one person to be pressed up against your back in a not-quite train ot quite crowded enough to warrant it, while a little further up the carriage another indulges in what seems to be a city-wide hobby - nose excavation. Having seen both of these this morning on my way to work, I'm even more enthusiastic in my count down to the day when I leave again. And, thankfully, it isn't too long until I'll be so busy that I won't have time to notice any of that even in the brief intervals that I'm home - although that will be for an entirely different reason, no doubt.

This weekend is party central among my friends, and it kicks off with what I heard described as 'the new Friday' - a Thursday night with a funcction at a supplier. I think the supplier is more aware that they wouldn't get nearly as many people exposed to their product if they held it on a Friday when it would compete with the attractions of friends and freedom. Luckily, they are also aware that there would be even less chance of getting people along if there wasn't also the promise of free food and, perhaps more importantly for most people, drink. It's one of the perks of knowing interior designers that I get to go to these soirees every so often, and I tend to try and take advantage where I can. That said, I'm looking forward to the friends part of the weekend more, when I spend 2 nights partying with some of the more sociable girls in London - my hockey team.

Somewhere in that mix, though, I'll be meeting up with a complete stranger who got my details from one of the convoluted grapevines that lets people meet in London when they lived in Melbourne their whole lives without the need to. She's the recently arrived girlfriend of someone my Dad works with, here and alone. I can sympathise with the daunting loneliness of first arrival, and I had at least one person I knew. So I'm squeezing a coffee into my busy schedule somewhere. Who knows where, but it should be nice.

And when I'm back in my flat, alone thanks to the flat mate being back in Oz for a while, I still have plenty to keep me busy. There's planning the road trip that will see me being a pirate in Penzance, looking at the end of the world at Lands End, and perhaps even not mentioning the war in the hotel that inspired John Cleese to create Basil Fawlty - I'm going to Cornwall. And beyond that are trips to Poland, Prague and Stockholm that have to be daydreamed of. Yet somehow, I'm still finding that what gets my attention most is my laptop. Not for research purposes, either. All I can say is that I love unlimited downloads and Limewire. Yes, I know, sad. But with the whole of The OC, The West Wing, Supernatural, and, in short, any TV show (or movie) I could want at my fingertips within a few hours of downloading, why wouldn't I test it out? Because, afterall, setting aside period dramas and police shows, there's nothing on British television worth watching. Perhaps that's why so many men fall to mining their nasal cavities. Shudder to think...