We took a little trip into Streatham. My god the exciting lives we lead. We picked up our tickets from the travel agent. Despite the reassurances of the travel agency staff I remain sceptical that 'Standard Meal' on my air ticket means that a veggie meal has been reserved for me. And because the flights are ten hours this matters somewhat!
We went to get our pictures done for our visas, but the photo machine has disappeared from Streatham Hill Station. Ain't that the way, you walk past it for fifteen years, then when you want it, it's gone!
Jimmy mentioned he had backed a horse, he'd had a tip, inside information. As the race was about to start, we popped into the bookies to watch it. As usual it was a three-legged donkey. I decided to back a horse. I'd had a tip, too, inside information. Well, not really. I just picked a name because I liked it. Pass the Port. Started off at 15/2 came in at 7/1, photo finish. Woot, that's a pub session, food included, paid for. There were blokes in there backing horses in every race, studying the form, blah blah blah. Who was the only person who got a winner? Me. I'm good at this horse backing game. Expert me. Pro. I'll send William Hill bankrupt in the end, I'm that good.
While we were down there we had a look at the Streatham Festive Celebrity Oops Too Much Publicity Lights. They're not bad. Nothing special, though. I loved Regent Street's last night, but forgot to look at Oxford Street's.
We got a 159 back home, bit of a nostalgia trip that. It might be our last trip ever on a Routemaster, who knows. Although I have instructed Jimmy to go for a ride on one on Friday, forget his Oyster Card (well, he normally does anyway, and he insists on calling it a cucumber card), and get a ticket. He kept his ticket from the last tram ride back in 195? - my Nephew #1 has the ticket now. Jimmy might end up being a rarity, last day of the trams to Crystal Palace, last day of the Routemasters.
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