Not.
It's good to be back, it really is. I'm turning out to be pretty good at setting up life here: being domesticated by picking out a duvet that matches my bedspread, at coordinating my wardrobe to maximize space, at shopping for groceries at the cheapest supermarkets and being delighted at buying tofu for 10cents cheaper than the last time. I'm being careful not to make my room too homely or settle in too well though, because I don't want to make it too hard to leave all this behind 6 months later.
But I digress, because I really should talk about my time in London and York.
Hey Lulu, look who this is.
We were talking quite innocently like people who meet each other for the first time. Then insert Dunman High, Lulu and Teo Nanzun... and then we spoke like we knew each other for years! Peppering our conversation with "Yah I know, she's so crazy" and "He's always like that one la!" and lots of laughter and jabbing, of course.
Oh how I miss my Lulu.
No trip to London is completely without a visit to Camden. I was quite surprised that there weren't any shops openly selling magic mushrooms and medicine cabinets full of hallucinogens of varied strengths like I saw the last time I was there. The colourful jagged streets and even more colourful inhabitants are still there though. The Harajuku of London, I would call it.
And of course I visited Oxford Street with much glee. High Street fashion is not just an English thing; it's a everybody-everyday thing, and it's my thing. Case in point: Topshop is a whopping FOUR floors packed to the brim with everything you can think of.
And the good people at Topshop know they have a numbing effect on women's legs because us ladies seem to be able to walk on forever, but they also know that for men every single step is an eternity within the shopping mecca; and hence this.
(Better than a shoe shop, don't you think?)
Two years ago I was spellbound while watching Saturday Night Fever at The Apollo Victoria in South Kent. Two years later, I was completely held hostage by the cast of Wicked at the same theatre. Wicked is decidely, deliciously wicked! If you happen to be in London, this musical is worth your last 20 quid, I am not kidding you.
And yes, I did go nutso over the food. I see you shaking your head already Daddy! Don't read this part! It speaks much about my poor sense of control in the culinary department.
Borough Market's spoils.
This is Eleena with her monstrous chicken burger. She wasn't smiling very much after this picture was taken, and neither was her tummy.
Dimsum at Chinatown. There were too many baskets and plates of dimsum to cram into a single picture, so we shall make do with a picture of shiny happy (full) people after the thorough satisfaction of their chinese food craving. I think the waitress had quite a different idea of aiming centrally than what we expected. Sorry Kudus.
It was good fun to be in London for Chinese New Year. That saved me from getting all mopey about missing my grandparents and all the hustle and bustle back home. We had people all decked out in red too (I was inauspiciously clad in white, sadly neglecting to bring an article of red clothing along)
This is London's Chinatown, people. Packed to the brim in a way I have never seen even Singapore's Chinatown packed with people. Of course, if you compare the percentage of wide-eyed Angmohs to I'm-here-because-I-desperately-want-some-CNY-spirit Chinese like yours truly, you get a ratio of about 10:1.
And this picture, I like to call it IRONY. 
I was quite tickled when I saw a blonde head emerge from underneath a particularly enthusiastic liondance costume.
And after much fanfare in London, York was a quiet stop before I headed back to Belgium. In particular we ate quite a lot, shopped quite a lot for accesories (right, Eleena?) and did painfully little sight-seeing and touristy things.
Eleena: That's the city wall. Don't bother, it's not much.
Eleena: There are gardens in the outskirts of York. But at this time they are all grey and flowerless. Don't bother, it's not much.
So okay, I don't bother. I just eat :)
I ate everything from train food
to traditional Sunday roast and Yorkshire pudding.
From handmade fudge that burnt an absolute hole in my pocket
to bangers and mash. Who doesn't like pub grub, every now and then?
England disappoints only in the World Cup, but they sure didn't disappoint me. I dragged 22 cartons of Muller yogurt back to Leuven and threw in a couple of tabloid mags to finish the leftover stray Pounds. All this English decadence, it is all very fine by me.
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