[journal haters i am sorry! but i’m afraid over the next few days pieceoplastic.com will turn into an actual journal. i promise its temporary. roommaterfromhell.com made me do it.]
okay. so i am going to say this only once. things are soooo fcuking expensive in london. every few years when i manage to come here prices have somehow managed to double. on everything. and what surprises me is this: there are no riots in the streets. i mean people actually live here and pay this kinda money every day. there should be a bloody uprising. me thinks. and this is coming from someone who lives in switzerland, where they tried to charge me 9.00 francs for 30 minutes on wifi. thats 6 euro. now i might come off as cheap or greedy here. but i dont think i am. i just dont like to get ripped off. mostly i actually think i must be doing something wrong. i work more and more, earn less and less money for it AND – here’s the kicker – my money is worth less and less. so thats a lose-lose-lose situation right there.
so here i am back in the metropolis of hype. i would actually like london, if it was not so – i am only gonna say it once more, please, and then shut up forever after – expensive and sort of …uhm… ubercool? is that the word here?
i arrive here in the afternoon. there’s a new express line from heathrow to paddington. 13 quid. just stating the facts here. not saying anything about this being too expensive or nothing. just the pure and raw facts. 13!
i am rather pooped so i decide to take paddington express this one time. this way i can get to my nap faster. the paddington express only takes 22 minutes, the grumpy lady tells me. just not if you miss the first train by 3 seconds, which is what i somehow manage to do. i then have to wait for another 15 for the next train. so we add 15 + 22 = 37 minutes, miss grumpy. 13 quid and you dont even get a blowjob and free wifi… but thats another question. how will i get my sexy laptop online?
so then when i finally i do get to my hotel, i find out that they are in the process of remodeling the upper floors. my room is in the 3rd floor. which is the floor bellow the banging. so still no nap for this pooped traveller.
off i go for a walk in the park, which life – apparently – is not. that’ll benice. and when i get back i decide to now try for a quick nap with the workers now gone. but now my room neighbors become active. two teenage girls with her screaming italian mamma.
please ignore this post, i might be kinda grumpy, i am afraid.. ugh.