In economy, no one can hear you scream*^

*But everyone can hear the little kid scream (or maybe that's just if you happen to be sitting behind him).
^Unless, of course, you do happen to actually scream, but this is not advised, as people will think you're a nutter.

(All you editors, excuse typos - I'm rushing.)

We are now safe and well in London. We arrived yesterday in mid afternoon, and by the time we got to the hostel and sorted ourselves out, it was kind of too late to actually do anything. And we didn't feel up to it, anyway!

There was no Pumblechookian elbow present in row 48 from Melbourne to Hong Kong, as I had been anticipating. There was, however, the unavoidable Teenage-Girlian foot or knee in the back of my chair, accompanied by screams of, 'Oh, do we pay for these headphones? We don't? We don't pay for any of the food either? Cool!' (Clearly a Virgin Blue or Jetstar passenger!) I didn't have the heart to turn around and tell her that actually, dear, you have paid for all those things as part of your airfare. But I digress.

Life in row 48, seat G, centre aisle, aisle seat, was generally uneventful on this leg. Sam was excited by our 'presents': aforementioned headphones and what I thought was a toilet bag but what was in reality just an eye mask and those standard-issue Qantas socks. Aside from Samson and I feeling the exact same kind of woozy sickness, extremely short-lived, about an hour apart from each other, there was nothing else of note to report (screaming child in seat 48G notwithstanding - and he only screamed a couple of times during the grumpy-because-I'm-getting-no-sleep portion of the flight - and who can blame him?).

Oh, I mourn for the days of business class. Sleeping is so difficult in economy! (Yes, Kel.) I caught perhaps two or three hours on this first leg - it was hard to tell. At least the TV entertainment was 'on demand', so we could start and stop a film whenever we felt like it and didn't have to wait for the next 'cycle' if we missed the beginning of something the first time around, invariably always coming in at the same point and ending up seeing the last half of the same film four times over, never knowing what happens in the beginning! (She speaks from experience.)

And oh, wasn't it great in business class when the air stewards knew your name; they cared about you! 'Welcome, Miss Robinson.' 'Would you like a glass of wine to enjoy before the flight departs, Miss Robinson?' 'And how are you going there with that whole barbecue chicken all to yourself?' 'Would you like a lovely foot massage with your personalised sponge bath, Miss Robinson?' Or perhaps not quite.

But in economy, they don't know your name. In fact, they don't care what your name is. They don't even much care if your foot happens to be out in the aisle and they're pushing the food cart past. Having said that, I shouldn't feel so neglected, because someone did know my name. They must have, because it was printed on the little sticker that came attached to my 'special meal' (gluten free, no biggie - the only option they had in the realms of wheat-free), which landed on my tray WAY before most people even got a whiff of the food cart. So there you go. Special.

The HK stopover was uneventful unless you count the over-enthusiastic automatic toilet flushing, which activates while you're still on the toilet and you happen to lean forward. We were back on the plane again about an hour after getting off, in the same seats. Same dude across the aisle to my right (old, so don't ask if he was cute), different dude next to Sam on the other side (young, hairy arms). Another uneventful flight where we did not get enough sleep. Damn economy. (I really must let this go ... Okay, it's gone.)

The gluten-free meals on the plane were interesting. Anything bread-like (bread itself, rolls, muffins, etc.) seemed to be replaced by either Corn Thins or those large rice crackers (Sakata-style). Desserts were fruit (yay), and the main meals seemed to come always with a hunk of meat - lamb, I think. I did have a chicken main, but the other mains involved red-meat-hunks. A breakfast, which was a hunk of meat on top of a little bit of scrambled eggs, and a lunch, which was a hunk of meat with a little bit of rice noodles and vegies. And when I say 'hunk', I actually mean a lump about the size of 1.5 golf balls, as that's pretty much all that will fit in those tiny aeroplane container thingoes that I love. (I really do love them - all those little containers!) Very hard to cut, though, when you have but a plastic knife and absolutely no elbow room!

So we arrived at Heathrow on time and customs was a breeze, so we then headed off for the train. Now, if we had seen both the sign saying 'TRAINS [arrow]' and the sign saying 'UNDERGROUND [arrow]' ... if we had seen both of them, I would have remembered that we needed to follow the signs to the UNDERGROUND. But no, we (and by 'we' I mean 'I') only saw the sign saying 'TRAINS [arrow]' and although I should have known better (give me a break due to lack of sleep, okay?), we followed the sign. On the way to the 'TRAINS' section I picked up an underground map (I had one with me, but this one was larger) and was reading about this new-fangled 'Oyster' travel card and how it worked out cheaper to buy that and add money to it instead of constantly buying dailies or single trips on the Tube.

So we were following the sign to the TRAINs and passed a ticket and information booth for said trains. I asked the woman about the Oyster card and she said yes, it worked out cheaper, but no, she didn't sell them. What she should have actually said was this: 'Yes, the Oyster system does work out cheaper - no, I don't know why it's called Oyster - stop asking me - yes, I think it's odd as well - but I don't sell those tickets here because I am the ticket lady for the special London-Heathrow-London express train, which, by the way, is completely separate to the regular Tube system, and the Oyster card works with the regular Tube, not with the special express train. And, by the way, you are actually heading towards the special London-Heathrow-London express train, not the Tube. And also, if you do want to go on the express train - which clearly you actually don't, because you're asking me about the Oyster for the Tube - you have to purchase a ticket from me. Here. Now.'

Had she said this, we would not have proceeded down in the lift to catch the TRAIN that I thought was the regular UNDERGROUND. We would not have encountered the lack of underground-ticket-buying machines when we reached the platform (with Kel thinking, 'This isn't right!'). And we would not have looked around at each other confusedly before (luckily) running into a cleaning lady whom I asked, 'Were we supposed to buy a ticket upstairs? Why are there no machine to buy a regular Tube ticket down here?', and whom replied, snarkily, 'This is the special London-Heathrow-London express train. Where do you want to go?'. And to whom I then replied with, 'We're just going to King's Cross station. We just want the Tube!'. And then we would not, on her advice, had to wait ages for the lift to go back up to Arrivals, walk back past the information lady who didn't speak up in the first place (because of course it was all her fault!), and then down to the underground after locating the 'UNDERGROUND [arrow]' sign. (At least we didn't actually get on the wrong train.)

I was feeling a bit annoyed with myself for mistaking a train for ... well, a train! ... and also a little sick and just sooo tired. We got on the Tube and I took a thorough splayed-on-the-floor-backwards tumble when the train took off, having had no time to grab a pole. So that helped matters no end. But a bit of fresh air through the open train windows made me feel a lot better very quickly!

So ... the hostel is bare and basic, but all we need. The showers are slightly unpleasant and, as Samski said, we need a snorkel to use them because the unmovable shower heads are pointed directly at our heads, with water spurting in every which way so you cannot escape it. Or breathe. Funny. We've encountered only one friendly Londoner thus far - the dude at reception this morning. Sambo was feeling a bit despondent about Londoners last night: 'They all walk in front of you and over the top of you!' Why yes, yes they do. There's something I hadn't remembered.

As we were both pretty much dead on our feet after arrival, we showered and then just went for a wander around the neighbourhood, which is actually pretty busy. (Well, we are on Euston Road!) We located a Tesco to buy some day-snacks when touristing (my new verb - do you like it?). We then a had a quick dinner at the Irish pub next door to the hostel - very convenient! - and fell into bed. (Sorry SuperKate, I know you hate this whole 'we did that, then we did this' thing!)

Anyway, today we head out for our first London sight-seeing day. And breakfast is about to be served. I must away.

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