So I find myself in London for two days. The reason I am here is surreal and I shall tell you all about it when I am allowed to. I lived in this City for about twenty years. I suppose I was younger then and its attractions were of interest to me at that point in my life: places to drink, lots of single women, a chance of to make money. I can't say that I am interested in any of the above right now and in fact London fills me with dread and horror and I do all that I can to avoid it.
Most Londoners run like a gerbil on a work treadmill to fund a lifestyle which is frankly not that brilliant anyway. A good few want to chop my head off and the rest of them just seem, in various ways, mad. The prices they pay for utter tuch just baffle me.
Lunch today was a hummus bowl from a company called Hummus Bros which is currently seeking crowdfunding to expand. I ordered my chicken and hummus salad and saw that for an extra £1 I could have feta on top. Greatly missing Greece,
I went for this and was presented with a circular plastic pot of feta which at its widest point has a diameter of less than half my credit card. The feta was crumbled - that is to say it had gone through an electric grater - and tested unpleasant and not like the feta I was enjoying in the Mani just two days ago. And will be enjoying again by Friday lunchtime.
If I told someone back in Greece that for a few grammes of low grade faux feta I had just paid one euro 20 cents they would think I was barking mad. Yet Londoners line up to transact with Hummus Bros in this way. Get me back to Greece Lord, take me from this hell hole.