Marmite is the ultimate test of British-ness. It’s a foul substance that people like smear on things like toast. Personally, I think it smell’s like a bear’s rear end (this is conjecture, as I have never smelled a bear’s rear end). Luckily, my hatred of Marmite is shared by about half the british population. So I’m not un-british in my loathing.
In other areas, I am making cultural headway. A few days ago I made myself an authentic ‘English Breakfast’ with friend tomatoes, mushrooms, and Heinz baked beans. Americans may scratch their head at this combination, but like baseball and apple pie, few cultural objects make rational sense.
I’ve been taking the tube everywhere, went to a few parties, and have even got a library card. No, flat and job haven’t appeared, but I’m not really looking yet, still trying to cram the Grand Meaning of Life into a smaller What to Do in London.
What I won’t be doing in London is enjoying a cell phone contract – I applied and got rejected based on my credit. So I got my credit report, and I officially don’t exist – the report is just blank. Huh. Anyway, here’s a photo of the tube at night.
