DAY 18: Saturday

It was the second raining day since I arrived in London. I rested and benefited of a short time of reading David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens.

I arrived at Mary’s Warming House Party after 19h, where I met several people from work. We had some Champagne, Wine, salmon and cheeses. I enjoyed speaking with Matt, our German and gay receptionist, as well as with Mary and Esther. Maybe I could be friend with Esther, in the end.

Even though Matt had told me how to get to the closest underground – fast, because it was almost closing!!! – I turned on the street and jumped in the first bus I saw: it was written a destination I knew and I thought it would be good. Maybe it was a good choice, I did not find out. I missed my stop. I finally arrived - don’t remember how, to King’s Cross St. The only thing I know is that we always arrive somewhere with London’s transports! Monica was there. We met three Spanish guys at Oxford Street, with whom we spent two hours walking SLOWLY, freezing, and hesitating to enter a hundred places.

= Spanish people

We finally entered The Den in Soho. It was probably around 3 AM. And we got out at 7:30 AM. Yes. London. Is. Crazy. We danced.

I met a 24 years old Greek : a chef, a cook. Another! Then a small Indian man approached...hum... monopolized me. He was trying to dance salsa on techno: “I want to learn. Show me how to dance.” I was running away, hiding behind my Spanish new friend, but the Indian was in love and purchasing me non-stop.

Verdict about Indian guys:

-          They are crazy.

-          Dance is not part of their genetic.

7:30 AM. Monica, the Greek and I were gone for a real English Breakfast. We resigned to go to the McDonald for Breakfast. Never again.

The Greek asked my number. I gave my name.

Monica is crazy. Spanish girls are crazy. I love Spanish girls. At the way out of The Den, she spontaneously kissed – or was kissed by – one of the Spanish guys, right in front of me. Then she came at me, so proud: “Hey! I kissed someone!”... Really?

After our Muffin-sausage-egg, Monica and I bought compulsively fresh and warm pastries at the Sainsbury’s: 1 almond croissant, 2 Pain au chocolat and 1 Pain au raisin that we ate while we were waiting for our Bus to Willesden Green. Poor belly.

I got to bed at 9 AM. London. Is. Completely. Crazy.