Oh no the Megabowl is no more

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After a year on the road/water/tracks and 29 flights (too many you might say), Nat and I are back in Londontown. What's changed other than the Megabowl. Well it appears some people have been eating better than us, Tony Blair has morphed into an air slurping martian-like spitting image puppet called Gordon.

What else did we notice: there are many places around the world that don't have pavements; the 159 bus from Streatham carries the most mixed bag of people of anywhere we've been in a year; we don't need even a quarter of the clothes, electrical equipment, wires, toilietries or anything else that we've stored in the loft; pubs are peculiar habitats if you've not seen the real McCoy for a while; nowhere we've been to actually exceeds London in the expense stakes; it appears it's cheaper to buy a flat in gay Paris than in Streatham Hill; healthy dudes begging in the street should get up of their asses.

What did we miss: home cooked food i.e. food chosen by us, prepared by us and cooked by us or alternativley by our mums. More or less a whole year of eating out in the end means choosing the things you least don't like. But we're were spoiled in the first place. Thanks to Mrs Vegas, VB Solomon, Li Jing-Le, the crew at Wasini, MosDef of Fiji, Camelman Singh and Rakhee Kane amongst others

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