London vignettes

1. Standing at the bar, talking about military history and the Gurkhas with ukmonty and Charles, when a sharp faced drunk man standing next to us turns to us.
Him: “Are yez Navy?”
Me: “No, no, not us.”
Him “Which are yez? Merchant or Fleet?”
Me: “We’re not in the navy”
Him: “Are yez Marines, then?”
Monty: “The Marines are navy.”
Him: “Then yez are Navy.”
Monty: No, we’re nothing to do with that side of the forces.” (Oh, like he didn’t know this was a leading answer.)
Him: “Are yez spies then?”
Me: *Laughs*

2. Walking down the street with sister when a (different) drunk bloke stumbles against me before whirling round, waving the bottle he has in his hand, and shouting that he’s going to ‘Fukin’ cut you with this’. Naturally, what I notice is the bottle in his hand and the threat; blood rushes from my brain to muscles as my instinctive reaction of ‘flight or flight’ kicks in.*
What sister hears is the swearing, and proceeds to angrily remonstrate with him over swearing in the street. I have to drag her away, realising that if the drunk man with the bottle gets violent, it’s me that’s going to have to trade punches and not her.

3. I thought that wearing a shellsuit precluded one from being camp. What I immediately took to be a pair of chavs on the train turned out to be the most astonishingly camp gay couple I’ve seen in a while. Very witty and very friendly. Once again my prejudices take a battering.

4. The most beautiful girl I’ve seen in a very long while works in the Bombay Bicycle Club on the Queenstown Road. You might think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. She possessed of the classical Indian Beauty to the degree where you genuinely cannot help but stare in astonishment at her, amazed that people who look so good actually exist – normally you would only see anyone looking like that on a poster or the screen. If she had been born two hundred years ago they would have carved her face on a temple and she would have danced for the Maharaja. As it is she works in a curry house in Battersea.

^{*The best case scenaoria is that I get to beat up a drunk bloke. The worst is that I get stabbed with a broken bottle. It's not a win/win situation.}