Liv in SW11

I have been back, and officially an ex-expat, for a week. The experience is turning out to be somewhere between dazed and confused and farcical. Thursday morning's experience pretty much sums things up...

Scene: Liv walking past station on way to work, iPod on, deep in some daydream or another and probably involving a chance meeting with Robbie, oblivious as always to the outside world. Spies out of the corner of her eye a 20 something chap fall down the stairs outside the station. No one stops to help him. Liv is quite disgusted by British blindness to someone in need, stops, takes iPod off and asks...

Liv: Are you ok?

Chap (getting up off floor and grinning): Er, yes. I'm fine thanks. Er, you weren't supposed to do that.

Liv: Oops. Sorry. Is it a bit embarassing being helped by a girl?!

Chap: No. We're filming.

At this point our do-gooder looks up to see a camera crew sniggering into their coffees.

Stupid London.

Optimism prevails though and I'm sure that the up side to returning to the drizzle will break through and make itself known before long. Am rather hoping that the up side comes in the form of a 6'3" rugby player with a wicked smile and an IQ above 60. I've been asking Father Christmas for one of those for about 10 years but it seems that the elves only make a mid 90's model with tattoos and wanderlust.

Off to read a book on changing careers. I haven't found the chapter on conversion courses for lawyers who want to become cowgirls yet (I'm thinking that there may be a gap in the market for a book on this) but I live in hope.