Fish out of Water

Strong nerves demanded in the aftermath of Hog Roast and pre- External Examinations. It didn't help that London wants to dig up all the roads it needs to in advance of the Olympics (making a taxi fair to Watterloo in the pouring rain £27), nor that Julie bought tickets to Surbiton not Sunbury, nor that there was no toilet on the train, nor that the next train was cancelled. Our trip to the land where everybody is oblivious took five hours before we reached the Premier Inn. Neither did it help that the domestic address 'a couple of minutes a away' was no doubt calculated via Ferrari. I'll come out with it, I hate the suburbs. I hate their complacency, I feel totally uneasy when I'm there, I'm a fish out of water and desperate to sit quietly at the bar rather than attempt discussions with the largely octogenarian and not to look at young girls dresses (neither of which have any interest in talking to me whatsoever) while Start Me Up plays in the marquee and Hog roast is fed studiously to the schnauzer.

We managed to stay a couple of hours before retiring to our room for the disabled, big enough to swing a wheelchair in and watch television neither of us could recognise. Then up for breakfast (actually quite passable at the Premier Inn) to listen to stupid girls hoot with very very irritating laughs about their antics at some wedding the night before.

External Examiners appear tomorrow, never liked that particular event either after twenty years of suffering it.