The last time I has *** was in London.
Here is a list of thing I’d rather have been doing;

>Going to The Diner in Soho and eating a hotdog with bacon and sour cream (yes, that euphemism was entirely intentional)

>Touching all the pretty things in the massive, three-storey Paperchase

>Losing myself in the British Museum (hey, did you know that tentacle **** is older than electricity?)

>Lying in my back in Hyde Park and letting the rain fall on my face

>Avoiding living statues (they scare the **** out of me)

>Eating at that café on Barking Road

>Chasing pigeons in Trafalgar Square and resisting the urge to sit on one of the lions

>Dancing in front of a busker in Waterloo tube station

>Attending a Nick Cave gig and crying because he’s such a beautiful man

>Sitting in an art gallery and giggling at the tiny *******

>Wandering around Anne Summers, looking at things I can‘t afford but are very shiny none-the-less

>Giving tourists the right directions, because I’m not a complete ****

Anything but you