A London weekend

No Net access this weekend, so no posts. Our hotel failed to provide us with an ethernet cable, despite us asking them three times. It's the sort of service that goes along with staying in the world's smallest hotel room -- there is barely room to set up an ironing board or towel off after the inevitably weak shower. We made it up to the gym last night, only to discover minimal lighting, no airconditioning or water, and stacks of hotel safes -- the ones that aren't available in our room.

However. We spent relatively little time in our room over the weekend, preferring to be out and about, catching up with old friends and indulging in decent pub lunches. Saturday saw me at the Narrow Boat, on the canal behind Islington. Sunday, we made it over to the Ladbroke Arms for quite fantastic pumpkin gnocchi and apple crumble and custard. While the food was great, television proved to be somewhat disappointing. All the decent stuff is on cable now, so we were stuck with Channel 4's countdown of the greatest Bond songs -- which largely served as a reminder of how dreadful most (if not all) of the films were. Ah, list shows. So cheap to produce, so fiendishly addictive to watch. At least this one replaced the irritating chirpiness of professional rent-a-gob Stuart Maconie with the more entertaining insights of Marc Almond. Last night, we were reduced to watching Planet Earth and some wistful Alan Titchmarsh program about mild eccentrics in the UK -- the sort who participate in village fetes or hold the title of "Butterfly Expert for the National Trust." A portrait of England at its best. Unlike this morning's journey to work, when four of the tube lines were down and many of the bus drivers were on strike. And people want to know why we don't want to move back to London?!