Portobello … and uh-oh …

On Saturday, my friend’s fiance John and I went down to Portobello Market. It wasn’t too bad, if a bit crowded. I’ve been told it’s in one of the more expensive parts of town, being in Notting Hill. But we mainly stuck to the long stretch of road with vendors and antique shops.

Of course, with it being a location flooded by tourists on a regular basis, no doubt things were a bit pricey, depending on where you went. I didn’t really see anything that caught my fancy, save for a necklace I ended up purchasing (10 GBP – not the best price, but it was okay).

We then hightailed it out of there, and John took me to this historic old tavern, the Cheshire Cheese. Built after the Great Fire of 1666, it’s pretty much remained standing ever since. I had a pint of cider (not Strongbow, but actually quite nice). Unfortunately, most of the bar had been either closed off or reserved for private functions, so I really didn’t see a whole lot past the front drinking room, which was really small. Come to think of it, most of the bar (and the staircase down to the toilets) was pretty small. People must’ve been tiny back in the 17th century. Like Shetland Pony-tiny.

Later in the evening, I met up with my friend Shenaz (who lives in Canary Wharf) and her friend for a play over in the west end, at Hammersmith. It was a political play about the Iranian constitutional revolution of 1906. Interesting stuff.

After, we drove downtown to Covent Garden. I must say – from the back of a car, London at night looks awesome. I tried to take a couple pictures, but they didn’t turn out as well as I thought they would. We went to this place called Pizza Express (where they eat their pizza with a knife and fork – !!!) and chilled and joked around for a bit.

It was a great end to a good day … except for one thing.

Unlike the subway in Toronto, the London Underground – as great as it is – has this annoying habit of shutting down completely after about 12 a.m. So by the time we figured this out, Shenaz’s friend – who’s from East London – had to drive me all the way BACK to West London. And we had to stop a few times along the way to figure out which way we were going. I eventually got dropped off at about 2:15, 2:30 a.m. or so. I offered to pay for gas, but he refused.

I felt awful. I was also vowing to myself not to let that happen again. Famous last words.


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