Big Brother's Missing Bins & Clotted Cream

Hello my fellow Americans...Flo here ;) I am starting the trend of guests blogging during their visits...it may not be as good as Jamie and John's usual posts, but well...you don't have to read if you don't want to :p

It's about 6pm here...I arrived at about 9am-- 30 minutes early no less-- and Jamie and I have been going ever since, which considering the limited amount of sleep I was able to get on the plane says a lot about my ability to "power through" via a coffee mainline. I have to mention the shrieking (not crying, but truly screaming) infant on the plane who made this God-forsaken noise from about 11:30pm-1am while most of the rest of the passengers were trying desperately to sleep. Lucky, lucky us. Of course I'd hate to leave out the 4 year old twins who sat directly next to me...apparently their state-side bedtime must be mid-night...cause that's about the time they stopped pushing every button they could reach while simutaneously slobbering cumbs on all surfaces. It was good times folks, no doubt about it.

So, here I am in merry-olde England and I am loving it! It was fabulously sunny when we got off the tube from the airport...granted the moment we set foot in the flat it started to sleet the size of M & M's, but hey-- that's really not point...the point is that it was momentarily a shiny bright day and I enjoyed the little walk from the tube to the Ramsburg flat. (The super-duper flat is way freakin' better then the pictures, which don't do it justice and-- for those of you who were familiar with the Horatio St. walkup-- this place is a PALACE and I kind of want to move in...P.S.- that's totally doable with a bigger heater in the 'conservatory').

Now, on to one of the points of this little 'guest blog' of mine: missing bins. Hmmmmmmmm, I got myself a little cappucino to-go while I was at the airport...needless to say, I finished it in record time and there I was wandering around in search of a trash can to dispose of my little waste. What a fruitless effort...turns out bins have been banned in the airport and the tube stations out of a fear for bombs. Ok, so I get it...keeping the citizens safe is of the utmost importance; However, I carried my empty cup around for over an HOUR because my mother raised me right and I cannot be convinced to litter, I feel really, really guilty. Of course if I did litter there's a good chance I'd get a ticket...not because there are Bobbies running around on every other corner, there aren't...but because there are cameras, quite literally EVERYWHERE. I am in no way exaggerating this point...it's kind of fun to find the tiny cameras in a busy place. So, for all you Americans, who bemoan our government's 'atrocious' invasion of personal privacy via phone taps or cameras or whatever political bug has wiggled up your butt to complain about...all I have to say is: fly across the Atlantic pond where the Red Coats can count your nose hairs from 500 feet. Woo hoo...boogies here I come. On a total sidenote-- you CAN throw trash away at the airport. You just have to find the trash man. That is, the man who walks around with his arms out and a trash bag...yep--he's the totally mobile human waste bin. If you can catch him then lucky you cause then you get to get rid of your garbage. For the record this beautiful historical city is riddled with garbage and don't even get me started on the human turd in the alley(!). I have to pose the question..."Do you think America could use some human trash recepticals?" I hear a Democrat (re: ME) suggesting a welfare jobs program.

Jamie is, as can be expected, an uber-guide and is already pretty flawless about getting around the city...way to go JLCR!! After a quick lunch here at Cadmus Close Flat B we headed out to Harrod's...even though it's incredibly touristy (think Macy's in Herald Square), but there are some really high-end things and beautiful, if ridiculously expensive clothing. I picked up some fun things for my mom and dad. Then we went for tea at a cute cafe...we shared Welsh Rare Bit (an ode to my father's Welsh roots-- he would have been proud) and it was great, I would highly recommend it and no I'm not actually going to tell you what it is. We also had scones and clotted cream with jam. Um, clotted cream only sounds like a disease...mostly it's a flavorless butter-like substance about the consistency of margarine, but slightly less solid. Too many details? Too bad, I'm the guest blogger and I'm having fun doing this and since I check the blog every day, I figure there are others out there like me who will enjoy this little afternoon update.