Cold Oats

Ok, so the full Saturday catastrophe. A day of many things to do and zero luck left to get it done.

After my now weekly and very freeing boxing class, I made the decision to walk home in the glowing Sunday afternoon. I didn’t look at the time it would take, I didn’t worry about the route. Call me Forrest Gump, cause I just walked. I went to my first Sainsbury (a grocery store chain), finally bought reasonably priced groceries, made it home two hours later with brisk air clinging to my face.

At this point, in pure bliss and ready to lay in a bath, I looked at my phone for the time. I then, in a laughable, 90s comedy zoom into the face moment, realized I had 40 minutes to take a shower, eat lunch and catch a bus to a tour in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Piccadilly Circus, by bus was one hour away.

One rushed shower, one cold and old bowl of oats, one rushed convo with a roommate and THREE delayed buses/trains later, I missed my tour. I did manage to walk up to a complete stranger and ask, “Are you Matt?” (my tour guide, and this man's doppelganger or long lost brother). I received an understandably befuddled, “No” and a not so understandably disgruntled look from his nearby partner/wife/girlfriend. I am so sorry dude for the argument I quickly sped away from.

I tried then, from a fully packed and Las Vegas strip-esque Piccadilly Circus, to call my partner (whom I could only partially hear and hung-up with brusquely). I also tried to get some nearby food from Chinatown, until I realized it was Lunar New Year weekend and every restaurant, shit you not, had lines out the door for daaaaaaays.

I finally, chilled to the bone, dejected and hangry, took an hour bus ride home.

Not my favorite day. But I am for sure going back to try again. There was a Harry Potter store.

Until then.

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