Maybe It's Because I'm A Londoner ...or not?

I get up at the crack of dawn....literally.  The sun is rising as I am.

This is London Winter....it's dark when you get up and dark when you get out of work and cold, damn cold. Not even getting into the other London obsessions...weather and rain.

You have three viable choices in dressing...you can...

1. Put your clothes on in bed, I have found this to be kind of awkward and often leads to wardrobe mishaps (like undone flies and twisted bra straps).  

2. Dressing straight out of a hot shower, only two downsides to this, twisted tights and damp footsies.

...or

3.  Get dressed very, very quickly right beside the radiator (being careful not to burn your bum when bending over to pull your knickers up).  

You wouldn't think from this that I actually prefer the cold over the heat....but I did move here from Oz.

Chemicals are purty

So now you're dressed and to be honest the sunrise is quite pretty (I know it's pollution but it's still lovely to look at)...better than a grumpy London commuter.

...Public Transport is actually preferable..

Now that journey, which anywhere in this city is going to be at least 45 minutes...transport, well it's random, sometimes you get a seat, get to chill out, listen to your music maybe read a book.....or it is the journey from hell.  Squashed onto a train...going from cold to bloody sweaty hot, tube or bus with what seems like a thousand others.  A thousand others who haven't brushed their teeth, have drunk milky coffee and all smoked cigarettes before standing right next to you in your very limited personal space.(for someone little I have a freakishly large personal space zone, except when I've been blessed by the universe and I get a damn good pervy view)

London Bridge Lock Down

Today...I tripped over this guys foot, sat in his lap, righted myself then tripped again and accidentally ran my hair through a fellow commuters hair....you can not beat shit like that. I laughed, them not so much.

As a Londoner...you know that you have to stand on the left of the escalators, never to stop in the middle of flow of people.  It is inbuilt that you let others off first before pushing your way on the tube, that the first set of doors at Moorgate don't open that if you want to get off you have to move to the rear of the carriage.  That Angel Station has the longest escalator in the whole tube line all 90 damn feet of it.  Bless you if you don't have your Oyster or Travel card ready when you reach those barriers to get out, well I'd rather call a Hell's Angel gang a bunch of pussies than not have that damn card ready to use.

....you know you're still Australian, cause you dance along to your iPhone music at London Bridge Station, not caring that it is packed or that people think you're a freak.(one of the things I love about this city...chances are very high that you'll never see the same person twice...so act weird...who cares??) You smile when that song comes on that reminds you of amazing times, great weather and beautiful company.  You laugh out loud at how packed it is and that you have a face full of breast on the tube. (the temptation to blow raspberries was completely overwhelming and I restrained...maybe I am growing up?)

Consider myself a Londoner?  Only on the very thinly veiled surface, just cause I know the proper etiquette doesn't mean I'm always going to follow it ;)...but honestly would you expect anything else??