So, yesterday is a complete blur...the post flight/border syndrom. In attempt to encourage our energy to show itself to us, Em and I decided to do celebratory shots. So, we walked out of our cute little hostile, down Lambeth walk and right towards a pub conveniently located about five minutes up the street. ... ... we walk up to a dark green pub, through the cigarette cloud of Joyce, an elderly woman with a smile consisting of two, somewhat random and rotten bottom teeth. We stepped inside and found we were 2 of only five people. No one was talking. Instead, it was scattered fans of pub television (sports) and one young women who I think would say, if silence could speak..."My kids are finally at their dad's house and all I want to do is absolutely nothing...with my wine." She sat near the door like it was a quick escape if she were to let herself accept the truly dodgy nature of the bar. "What am I doing? This place is too dirty for a cute young thing like myself...I should go have a bath and a cup of tea."
"Two shots of Tequila please!", Em and I said somewhat similtaneously.
"You don't have that...okay, what do you have, or what do you recommend"
...
"You don't know...hmmm, okay, well maybe we will try this"
1-2-3 Southern comfort down the "hatchet" as we should now call it.
"See you later Joyce"

I'm tired now...will write more later. It should be mentioned, however, that we saw Joyce again today and waved excited "HI!"... She had absolutely no clue who we were. Perhaps she was blinded by the smoke cloud around her head from her routine cigarette, or maybe it is time to come to terms with the fact that perhaps Emily and I, foreign cute accents and all, are not as memorable as we may strive to be...even when we may have been the only four new footprints that bar has dusted, or not dusted in a long time.

I wonder if it is possible to balance a cigarette between two bottom teeth.