A problem I sometimes have is when wandering around somewhere central with a book in hand pointing out some hidden historical curiosity or significant architectural detail, and someone 'helpfully' asks me if I'm lost or near directions.
Enough to make the strongest man shudder, a.
A simple, "Why, do I look like a furrin?" should set them straight.
I once went to Wimbledon by tube. Must have been around 1978. My friend Malcolm and I decided to go to Plough Lane to watch Wimbledon, because they'd recently beaten West Ham in a cup game and that struck us as amusing. It took fúcking hours to get there and then the game was postponed. We went to his Auntie's house nearby and she gave us tea and cake.
Good. Fúcking. Timez.
I mean, the last three lines of my address are 'Wimbledon, London, SW19 XXX'.
I mean, the last three lines of my address are 'Wimbledon, London, SW19 XXX'.
So I will have you know that it is London.
Oh I have no doubt that Wimbledon identifies as London, just as you identify as a doctor and a bearded docker called Keith can identify as a ballerina. Doesn't make any of it true.
Oh I have no doubt that Wimbledon identifies as London, just as you identify as a doctor and a bearded docker called Keith can identify as a ballerina. Doesn't make any of it true.
It's bloody zone 3, for heaven's sake! Where does London stop? Is Battersea London?! Is Clapham London?! Ridicules.
It is a simple rectangle, whose sides are Park Lane in the west, Oxford Street to the north, Kingsway in the east and The Strand along the south.
There's nothing comp0licated about it.
I had no idea that London was such a small city, in your eyes.
Still, this is comforting news having read that detached house prices in London were slumping at 4%pa just yesterday. Clearly my property is not impacted by this
I had no idea that London was such a small city, in your eyes.
Still, this is comforting news having read that detached house prices in London were slumping at 4%pa just yesterday. Clearly my property is not impacted by this