Oh how I miss British TV and a fry-up
My long weekend at home was very tiring not helped by a bout of man-flu (to the non-medical profession, this is a common cold exagerated by man to be a near-death experience!) and this after two whole weeks of non-drinking. I knew that it was a ridiculous thing to do. Never again.
The weather was freezing, much colder than here and a walk along Eastbourne beach on Friday was most definitely brisk. I had to laugh though about the problems in Cornwall
due to snow. In Chicago 2 inches of snow would be considered a slight dusting.
I really don't miss the fuss we make when we have a touch of poor, or good, weather and I don't miss the traffic - two and a half hours to travel the 12.5 miles from SW London to Heathrow on Monday morning.
I do miss the British TV though. I watched whatever was on, including every opportunity to watch eulogies on George Best
. There was Little Britain
, Question Time
, Ready Steady Cook
, Jonathan Ross
, I'm a Celebrity
, The X Factor
(god, they were all awful) and even Richard & Judy
(what's wrong with her? She looked absolutely terrible although a glass of wine did spark her into life) and a host of kids stuff with my son.
And Bar Bruno
on Wardour Street made me realise how I miss a good old English Breakfast. I met my brother there Thursday morning and gleefully there was not a bagel or a donut (sic) in sight.
I did make use of the extended licensing hours and gladly didn't see any 15-years old fighting in small towns like they kept showing on the news. I popped into the new Ice Bar
for 45 minutes and a slug of vodka on Saturday - not very ideal for my man-flu - and had a great night at the Jazz Cafe
on Sunday watching a birthday tribute to Jimi Hendrix. I had forgotten how good live music was at a small venue.