Kirsty's Amazing Night of Technicolour Delights

     Last Tuesday [09/11/10] I went to see one of the world's greatest bands in concert ... Yes, I'm talking about Linkin Park. Who else? They were immense and it was one of the best concerts I've been to. It was more intimate than my first Linkin Park concert, but not as close as the Dead By Sunrise concert. Either way, I found myself up close and personal with the band members, and I nearly exploded from the excitement of it.

     I got to scream along with Chester, rap with Mike and bounce with Phoenix. I watched as Rob hammered away at his drums, and I watched Brad give amazing guitar solos. It was fantastic. The band were on fire the whole night, and being at the front meant I got to see them in the flesh, in all their glory. It was like heaven for me.

     At the end of the night, the band members came to each side of the stage and thanked us for showing up, bowed, waved. It was humbling to be in their presence, and I felt like they had no need to thank us. It was an honour to be there. Anyway, they threw out goodies, like usual, and guitar picks, towels and drumsticks flew into the crowd.

     Guess who caught a drumstick.

     If you guessed Kirsty, you would be right. And my God, did I almost die. The thing about this drumstick is that Rob didn't just lob it into the crowd. He actually looked at me, and then threw it to me, and I CAUGHT IT. And I don't do catching. So, that made the drumstick all the more special. A member of Linkin Park threw a drumstick to me. I can add it to my growing list of Linkin Park encounters.

     Anyway, here is a video to end with. It showcases the best of Linkin Park ... Their ability to give one hundred percent in their shows and be amazing live, and also their ability to really get a crowd going. It also showcases the best of their fans. Enjoy:

Why You Should Never Travel With Me

Today confirmed my deepest fear. I hadn't wanted to confront it. I wanted to ignore it. I tried to ignore it. But to no avail. 

I am cursed when it comes to travelling. Or more specifically, when it comes to trains. 

You've heard my story about when my train was cancelled  Well, it happened again. Therefore, it is not a coincidence. Therefore, I am a magnet for trouble. Therefore, I will end up repelling would-be travel buddies. And I really want a travel buddy. Travelling is lonely and overrated ... and irritating. 

And annoying. I even prayed to someone, anyone, to make today the day that everything ran smoothly, because it's been so long since I had a smooth train ride. But clearly Fate likes to laugh in my face, because no sooner had I gotten to the station, had I discovered my train was cancelled.

Why?

Power failure at the station I needed to go to leaving me in exactly the same predicament as before. 

So please, tell me why trains, or the Train Gods, hate me so much?

First Year at University: PASS

     I just found out that I passed my first year at university with flying colours, rainbows and unicorns. Okay, the even itself wasn't that fantastical, but I've never passed an opportunity to big myself up before, and I'm not going to start now. It's a bad habit that's bad to break, and everyone knows egotisticalism is in!

     I'm so cool, I just made up a new word and trend. Keep with me, keep with me.

     Anyway, the actual finding out was probably one of the biggest health risks I've taken all year. No, scratch that, one of the biggest health risks I've taken in my life. The stress was phenomenal. 

     I wasn't bothered before hand. There wasn't any build up, no weeks of worrying, nothing. I've been quite content living in a world of Pokemon, actually. And I was happy to stay in that world too. My Arcanine needs me, and I need her. But that's beside the point.

     The point here is that I didn't worry until the exact moment I clicked "ONLINE RESULTS" and then my heart seemed to burst in a speedy dosage of adrenaline, and it felt squishy like it had burst. I was trembling, and my skin was getting itchier and itchier as the load bar at the top of the screen began to fill. I was breathing heavily, considering growing a beard and joining a band of travelers, and my brain felt like it was going to explode.

     And then I found out I had passed, but the stress didn't go away, straight away.

     I sat in front of my computer screen, stunned, searching the list of results for some sign that this was a prank. I was convinced it was, because how could I have passed that damn exam. But I had, and life was slowing returning to normal. 

     Never before have I reacted like that, and never again will I put myself through it. 

     I WILL work harder. I WILL!

Why You Should Only Ever Date Yourself

     I was thinking, which is a dangerous pastime, about dating. I had a random idea, which then lead to this post. Dating is a long and tiring game that can often lead to a relationship. And the last thing you could ever want is a relationship with someone else. Because other people are demanding, tiresome and often rude.

     However, nobody wants to be alone. Nobody wants to be the single girl or boy at a couples social. Nobody wants to feel like they're missing out. And I have come to the conclusion that since people are hard work, and dating is necessary, there is one solution:

     The only person you should ever date is yourself.

     I have compiled a list of reasons why dating yourself is the only possibility in a world when everyone cheats on their partner, sexting is traitorous to everyone and monogamy is a myth. I just made all that up, but it sounds cool so it's staying. While I do a victory dance, you can read my list:

1. You Don't Have to Worry About Moving In: You and yourself never have to worry about the stress of moving in together because you already do. You don't need to make room, you don't need to argue, you can just continue to share the space as you were doing previously. Awesome.
2. You Don't Have to Worry About Ditching Your Friends: Everyone knows the problem with first time/second time/romantic romances. You get so caught up in them that you stay with that one romantic person day in day out, ditching your close friends. By dating yourself, you avoid this problem as your friends are your friends. Simple.
3. Dates Are Simpler and Cheaper: Why? You don't have to worry about paying for two people, and splitting the bill's no issue: you'll both pay! Why simpler? No arguments. You know yourself well enough that you'll pick the right place for a date.
4. You'll Always Get What You Want For Xmas/B.Day: Like I said in point three; you know yourself well. So you'll always pick the right birthday present, or Christmas present and, more importantly, the right Valentine's present. Win-win situation.
5. You Don't Have to Worry About Sharing Friends: Your friends are your friends, so when it comes to introducing your date to your closest associates, there are no problems. They already like you, so of course they'll like your date. Why not?
6. You Don't Have to Worry About Getting Along with Their Friends: Same as above; your friends already know your date, because your dating yourself, therefore no issues regarding getting on with his/her mates. 
7. You Can't Be Ooey and Gooey in Public: Unless you're really demented. And psychotic. Because making out with a partner is wrong, and making out with yourself is nauseatingly sickening. Keep it in the bedroom please. I don't want to see, or feel, your love.

     There are hundreds of reasons why dating yourself is better than dating another person, but it takes time, effort and a bigger attention span than I have to type them all. Of course, there are cons to dating yourself, but it would be anti-constructive, or anti-initiative. Whichever is more impressive.

     Anyway, heed my advice and never have your heart broken again. Unless you're like Jace Wayland, and like to occasionally turn yourself down to make things interesting. Sounds like a good game to play, just don't get too heartbroken.

Keys, Tears & The Fear I've Forgotten Something

     Last Friday, I handed my keys over to the staff at Singer Hall. I slipped them into an envelope and handed them over to a friendly woman who wished me a nice summer as I walked out of that officey area for the last time. Or maybe the last time. It depends how sentimental I get next year, or if I ever need a place to crash, literally, near campus.

     It was sad. I didn't want to leave "my" room, or come to terms with the fact I could no longer get in there, despite the fact I had to pay rent for July, despite the last term of uni ending in the beginning of June. Yeah, I think they should better hide their money grabbing schemes too.

     Anyway, I've had a lot of paranoia since then. Little bouts of panic attacks where I wonder if I forgot to be all three keys in the envelope, or if I forgot something that belongs to me in there, or if I didn't clean the room properly and will get fined £300 for it.

    I'll relax soon enough. Maybe in September, or October, or November ... 

Things What I Want

     It's my birthday soon.

     Don't think that I'm one of those insane people who starts talking about their birthday nonstop six months before the event, and then starts planning it like mad three months before the event, because I am nothing like that. I've given very little thought to my birthday this year. In fact, I was surprised to hear that it is my birthday in just under three weeks.

     What I have been giving a lot of thought to these past few weeks is my money situation. About how I don't have freedom to spend it when and as I like, to buy what I want, and for there to be no consequences. Stupid, I know, but I'm neurotic, I'm allowed to worry. I suppose I'd feel a lot better about the situation if I had money coming in.

     I don't.

     Anyway, I have decided to combine these two events/thoughts/concerns (it's concerning because I'll be turning nineteen, my last year as a teenager, and it'll also commence the countdown to me turning twenty - eek!) into this post. There a lot of things that I want to buy, but can't. I have a real big imagination, so I like to imagine buying them and owning them. To accompany my "dreamlife" is a list of things what I want:

• Pokemon HeartGold (24/06/2010)
• Scrubs (Seasons 1-7)
• City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare (24/06/2010)
• Spirit Bound by Richelle Mead (10/07/2010)
• Pride by Rachel Vincent
• Dean Winchester's amulet (24/06/2010)

     I'm a geek, I know. There's a lot of books in that there list, one of which wasn't even on it last week. I've recently been reacquainted with the Mortal Instruments series (this was a trilogy, but there's a fourth book coming out) and I want to continue reading them. My sister's bought this book, so I'll probably read it as soon as she's finished with it, but I do like owning stuff, which puts it on my list.

     Second of all, I know Pokemon is for kids. I know this. But I grew up with Pokemon games, played them to death, and I still play them now. The whole reason I bought a DS in the first place is to be able to buy the newest generation Pokemon game. It makes sense that I want the remake of my favourite Pokemon game to date. I've been waiting years for this remake, ever since they remade Pokemon Red and Blue. So let me have this moment!

     Scrubs rocks. No more need be said. I've been watching nonstop the past two weeks, I'm on season three, and I need to own the DVDs so that they episodes are there at my disposal. No one need get in my way, or face my wrath.

     The chances of me getting any of this stuff any time soon is slim to none (Fort Minor lyrics for the win!) but it's nice to list that what I want and see it in glory! But who knows what might happen. I'll come back and edit this as of when I get anything on the list.

     Don't worry, I'll date it so we can see when I get each item!


EDIT: I bought Spirit Bound last Saturday. It cost £3.50. How awesome is that! And that wasn't a question. It was a statement, because it was awesome. I even got a lemon meringue doughnut from Krispy Kreme, even though I didn't buy it. And that was awesome too.

Slippery When Wet

     I want to take this opportunity to tell you why it is not a good idea to have a water fight inside. Why? Because it's a fantastically hot day, and people always have water fights on hot days. Unless you're one of my roommates and you have water fights in the middle of winter/autumn, inside our flat.

     Water fights + Inside = TROUBLE   ---> This is simple Maths.

     Water fights + Inside + Carpets + Wet floors = DANGER   ---> This too, is simple Maths.

      You know what's coming now; a crazy story that involves a water fight inside, where something stupid/dangerous/humiliating/funny for other people/ crazy happened. And it did, and you'll probably never guess which sap got soaked/humiliated/laughed at/looked stupid. Okay, you will. You're probably ten steps ahead of me.

     First things first, we shall call this not a water fight, more of a water massacre, or a water attack. Because in all honesty, it wasn't that much of a water fight. Water fights are where two or more people get soaked, and throw water at each other, and in this fight, I didn't do all that much fighting. I kinda fought against Fate, but I didn't get to throw water, except when I dumped it on the floor in spite.

     We were sat in the kitchen, eating our lunches, a perfectly normal and bland day. One of my roommates had a bottle of water in her hands, which spelled trouble, but I continued eating and pretending like I couldn't see what she was doing, or what she was planning. 

     She tipped a little water into the bottle cap, and then casually flicked it. It didn't actually go on me - it ended up on the floor, bothering no one - but I still went to move the bottle away from her, so she wouldn't do it again. As I was holding it, I saw something flicker in her eyes, and I knew I was in trouble. She leant forward, and I could see what she was about it do. She was going to tip the bottle back over me.

  

     I reacted faster than she probably expected. I flicked my wrist, dousing the water all over her lap, before she could get me. It was defense by offense, the only thing I could think of, and the only time I hit her with water. 

     I could see she was shocked and went to escape,  but it seemed that I had used up my reaction time, because she moved quicker. Someone had left water in the sink, from when they had been washing up, and then it was all over. I found myself soaked from head to toe, a bowl having been emptied over me.

     I tried to fight back, really I did, but I had no chance. She had grabbed all the bottles, bowls, containers of water, and was continually throwing them at me. Our other roommate had escaped to her room, and I was trapped. And then that was when it happened. "It" being in italics because of how important and how embarrassing it was for me.

     I fell.

     I went to go into the kitchen and slipped on a pool of water. I don't know how it happened, all I know is that one foot landed on the floor in the kitchen, and then suddenly I was flying backwards, almost comically, before coming to a painful halt on my butt.

     At the time, I wasn't embarrassed, and if I'm honest, I'm not now, but the teasing and laughing at me was unbearable. I thought it was funny, and strange. Plus, the horror did not end there. Not only did I slip, fall back and land on my butt, but I laid back against the floor, trying to gather myself. My attacker took this moment to try and soak me more. What happened next couldn't have been better, even if we'd choreographed it ourselves.

     She loomed over me, a washing up bowl of water in her hands. I figured what she was about to do and panicked, a surge of adrenaline racing around my sore body. I rolled to the right, just as she tipped the water and managed to escape an absolute downpour of water. I then jumped to my feet, and finally made an escape.

     Of course, I didn't hear the end of the water fight/soaking/slipping incident for days to come. It was funny, I'll admit to that, and it must have been great to watch - from a distance -, so I'm not complaining. 

     If anything, I think it's one of my prouder moments, what with the amazing dodging skills and foresight I displayed.

     Modest, I know. I thank you!

Breaking News: I'm Neurotic

     It's official. Some poncy, expensive, "Child of our Time" experiment has told me what I have known all along; I am neurotic. I worry, I get worked up, I get stressed out, I go crazy. It feels good, to be right. Along with the neuroticism, this test has also told me I am high in "openness", which means I am creative and see the world in a different way from all you uncreative losers, nice people.

     Here is the official graph that I was presented with. Wow, I totally made that sound like I was presented an award. An award for being "anxious" as my Mum once called me. As you can see, my neuroticism, is off the scale. My conscientiousness, extroversion and agreeableness are all about the same, and my openness is my second highest trait.

Openness: Imaginative, creativity, seeing the world in a different way. People with high scores tend to find generating imaginative ideas easy and tend to daydream a lot throughout the day. Also, openness comes with a innate desire to travel and see other places.

Conscientiousness: Dependability, organisational skills, hard-working. People with middle scores, like mine, tend to not to be workaholics, but have the ability to strike a balance between working and socialising.

Extroversion: Positive emotions, desire to seek out risk taking and pleasurable experiences. People with scores like mine are comfortable meeting new people and enjoy social occasions. 

Agreeableness: Sympathy, empathy, kindness. People with scores like mine are likely to be aware of other people's feelings and needs, going out of their way to help them. Also known as people pleasing, agreeableness is how well you can get along with other people.

Neuroticism: This is a person's response to a stressful situation. People with high scores are often tense, anxious and stressed. They also tend to experience changeable moods, which swing around in extremes.

     Okay, that's the definitions and explanations. I'm not sure about the extroversion trait, especially looking back over my start at university. I do like meeting new people, but I still get nervous about it; it doesn't come as naturally as the extroversion explanation might say. Although, that could be my neuroticism coming into play.

     Looking further into the information I was given, it also seems like I'm heading into the wrong career. I've been told by the "Child of our Time" that I should be going into an economic career. Well, I'm a Psychology student, so you couldn't get further from "economic" if you tried.

     Also, when you look at my scores, I'm high in "openness" which is creativity, and I'm high in "neuroticism". So, why would a career in the economy be good. It's not creative or imaginative, so I'd be bored out of my brain, and I get stressed easily, so I'd probably be stressed all of the time, especially when you look at today's economy.

     So, as a Psychology student, I will bow out with the criticism that sure, this study takes in personality and its effects on our lives, but no, it does not take into account other influences, such as interests, or the fact that some people can't make up their minds and randomly select where they are going in life.

     More on that nugget another time!

I Will Never Ever

     I will never ever be able to travel. You've heard of my past endeavors on traveling, most of the journeys consisting of me trying to get back home. Well, I had another journey to make last Monday, and it involved a train that I had caught many times before. No cause for alarm. I had a pretty confident sense about self as I made my way to the station.

     I left a little bit earlier than usual. By earlier, I mean half an hour earlier than I normally do. That sounds stupid, doesn't it? Like I was asking for trouble. But actually, my leaving earlier helped me out a lot. And the reason that I had left earlier is because I was ready to, and I figured that instead of waiting around in my room, I could walk to the station and wait around there. There was really no difference, I would be waiting.

     My train was supposed to leave at 11:52 AM, and I left at 11:00 AM, instead of 11:20 AM. It takes me twenty minutes to walk to the station, and I had to collect my tickets and all that jazz. I was ready to leave by 11:00 so I decided to walk over to the station and relax when I got there. I arrived, grabbed my tickets and walked to the platform where I noticed that something was amiss.

     It was a Monday morning, so the train station might have been busier because of that, yet there seemed to be an air of impatience and apprehension. People gathered underneath the information screen, which I glanced up at. My eyes scanned down the listing to be greeted by this:

11:52 AM - London Euston - CANCELED

     My stomach literally twisted in fear. And annoyance. And my mind screamed, "Why me? Why does it always have to be me?" It was either plain bad luck on my part, or bad karma. Why karma? The day before my Mum had phoned to tell me about her and my family's nightmare journey back home from Majorca, where they had to sit on the runway for four hours. I'd laughed. And now my train was canceled. Probably Fate's way of laughing right back at me.

     On the other hand, I never have any luck with train/bus/coach journeys. Or any form of transport. So it might have happened anyway, because Fate hates me, and doesn't want me to travel with ease. Either way, my train was canceled and that was my only way home.

     I went to investigate, seeing as my ticket was prebooked and meant I could only travel on the exact train that was canceled. I discovered from some nice Virgin train employees that all tickets that were heading in the direction of London were being accepted on any and all trains due to the overhead train lines being down in Wimbledon. Trains were still going to Milton Keynes, my destination, I just had to find one. Luckily for me, one such train was coming in now.

     Thank Goodness for me leaving early!

     The Virgin employee that I spoke with told me to get this train, as it was going to Milton Keynes. I didn't hesitate, ran and jumped on. The doors shut and the train pulled away and with a cold realisation, I figured this was the "other" train that went to London Euston. The one that usually skipped over Milton Keynes. And I'd also heard that the lines might be fixed.

     This is where my extremely overactive imagination kicks in. I had a horrible, sinking thought that they might fix the train lines and go straight to Watford or London and I would be stuck forever in another city. I know that if a train says it's going somewhere, it has to go there, but at the time I was frightened and freaked out and had visions of me seeing the station I wanted whizz by.

     All around me, commuters to London were planning ways to get into the capital without this line. Some were talking taxis, some other trains, others were talking a bus or coach. I was sat there, rigid, clutching my suitcase, chanting "Please stop at Milton Keynes, Please stop at Milton Keynes, Please stop at Milton Keynes" in my head, over and over again. Some of the other commuters gave me worried looks.

     To drive the fear home, the tanoy eventually announced that the lines were fixed and the train I was on would be one of the first into London. My heart literally stopped. My wild eyes glanced around the train at all the cheering, I desperately turned to the man behind me and asked if he were traveling to Milton Keynes, but he wasn't.

     The train driver continued his speech and informed passengers that the train would still stop at Milton Keynes for all the other passengers wanting to get off there. I tried to relax, but I think I was near hysteria from all the tension that had been racing through me for an hour. 

     I really think it is not safe for me to travel alone, so if anyone wants to volunteer to be my travel buddy ... What do you mean you don't want to risk it?

My New Old Room

     This is a picture of my room at university! You may wonder why I am putting up this picture. The answer is simple: I am moving out of it soon, and I think that I should commemorate my being here for eight months. Yeah, that's right. Eight whole months.

     You might remember me saying it was bland, ugly and smelly when I moved in. That is true, and I don't take those words back. It did still smell from time to time throughout the year too, mostly when I went home for Christmas and Easter. I would come back and be knocked down by the smell; musty and familiar.

     I quite like my room. I will be sad to see it go. It's home now. Mine. My very first room all of my own, without sharing. The funny thing is that this room is bigger than my room at home, even without sharing it with another human being. That just goes to show how much of an upgrade a smelly, dirty, freezing cold room is .... No, even though it's bigger, I do prefer my room at home. It's not as cold, smelly, dirty, stupidly positioned. Yeah, the list goes on. University Halls are not glamourous. I'd say you get what you pay for, but you don't. It's expensive.

     It'll be strange moving into another new room in September. I don't even know what room will be mine yet, but it's a weird thought. I'll be moving all my stuff home, only to move it all back a few months later, into a brand new house. Technically, the house isn't brand new. It's Victorian. But it'll be brand new to me!

     I hope it doesn't break as much as these Halls did. The cooker broke the other day; it won't ignite anymore, so we have to use matches. It's a battle of wills. You have a flame in one hand, burning down the match towards your fingers, and you have gas leaking into the air with which you need to put your hand next to in order to ignite, so it's pretty much a matter of who will get you first. I'm such a coward. I do a little dance with the flame, closer, further away, closer, further away, until the gas explodes and warms my hand, its way of warning me to stop being an idiot.

      Anyway, here is a picture of my notice board. I annotated it, but I don't think you can tell from the size of the picture. Maybe if you opened it in a new tab ... Here's a friendly list of the things that you will find on my notice board: A Linkin Park poster, a bell, a glowstick bracelet thing,  a picture of Jensen Ackles, a picture of me and my brother, handwritten Dead By Sunrise quotes, a picture of Chester Bennington, pictures of me and my friends, another picture of Chester Bennington and some tags to get into the local clubs. I know, I'm such an original genius with an amazing imagination. Go team!

     I guess in the end, this is a post to remind me of my first home away from home. If you understand that, you're not special or more intelligent, because everyone can understand that. Stop pouting, it's the truth. But yeah, this is my experience of University Halls and it needed to be documented. I will be moving out in less than a month, I think, and so I'm going to have to take more photos of my roommates and friends in my Halls.

     Here's to memories!

My Irrational Fear of London

     I have an irrational fear of London.

     How can a person have a fear of place? Simple. Be dragged there every summer until fear clinches the heart and taints the enjoyment of journeying to the place. London is the capital of England, everyone loves it. Everyone, except me.

     I don't mind London. I quite like it. If I had to create an analogy for describing my relationship with London, it would be to compare it with a rollarcoaster. You go on a rollarcoaster, even though you know you're afraid, if only for the enjoyment. Except, the fear on a rollarcoaster adds to the enjoyment, whereas my fear of London does not add to the enjoyment. Sometimes it takes away from the joy, sometimes it's just there.

     Okay, that was one screwed analogy. If you managed to make sense of that whole paragraph then you get a sticker saying that you are brilliant. Because you are. Even I can't figure out what I was trying to say, except that London makes me tense.

     My fear was a lot more acceptable when I was younger. Children and central London were never going to get along. Central London is full of business people, tourists and crazy students all shoving there way from A to B, and children get trampled on in the bustle. It's like a river of bodies, and you get swept up and dragged along to places you weren't intending on going to. I was probably ten or eleven when we started these trips; too old to hold a parent's hand, but too young to hold my own against the tirade.

     Another issue that I had was the fact that my Dad works in London, so he is an expert in maneuvering through the crazy crowds and getting the right tube, and getting on the right tube without decapitating himself. So, us outsiders had to try and keep up with his pace so not to get lost, fight the people's of London so not to get pushed away, and get onto a tube carriage that is so full there is no possible way of getting more people on, all without dying.

     Am I getting through yet? London is scary when you are ten and you've just hit five foot. 

       I am also claustrophobic. I discovered that when I went caving. That's probably the worst place in the world to discover that you are claustrophobic. It was funny too, when I had finished crying my eyes out. I think I knew, though, that I was claustrophobic. It would explain the raging panic that coursed through me whenever I was on a tube. The tube sucks. And since most of our day trips to London consisted of being on the tube, or on a platform waiting for the tube, I began to associate London with fear and panic.

     I liked Madame Tussards. I liked the London Eye (the first time, not the ten times I've been on since). I liked the River Thames. I liked the Millennium Dome. I liked Covent Gardens. I liked the West End. I did not like tubes, trains, crowds, walking for miles, burning thirst and tiredness. 

     I don't think that London's tourist advertising companies will be getting in touch with me anytime soon.

     Okay, when I read back through all that rambling, I am not hating on London, more on London's mode of transports, or London's citizens, though tourists aren't citizens and are the most annoying part of London, even though when I go to London, I'm a tourist, but does that really count since I was born in London. Does being born in London and two years of living in London make me a Londoner? Or am I something else entirely, since I spent my next sixteen years living in another town, and then a year at university? Am I babbling? Yes. Okay, I'll shut up.

     I guess what I have really discovered is that I have an irrational fear of the London Underground and that it overshadows my enjoyment of family day trips to London, although now I am older, that fear is a little subsided and more controllable. You now know why I get panicking in the depths of London. The tube is dark, hot and crowded. People get stupid in their rushing and I get nervous when I look at the spaghetti maps. To everyone who uses the tube every day with ease, I applaud you. You are much better people then me, who cannot even keep up with a guide. 

     Don't be put off by my poor description of London. It has so much to offer, like the Globe theatre, and London Dungeons, and the Tower of London. My advice to you, though, is to walk. Your legs will probably drop off, but it's better than losing your head.

     Shame about mine though. I think I've already lost it.