"Kickin' pigeons! Kickin' pigeons in... Leicester Square!"

*NOTE* No pigeons were actually kicked.
Not by us, anyway. One big fat bastard kicked the living SHIT out of one of it's smaller, scrawnier cousins. But that's Pigeon business, and not for the likes of us humans to get involved in. Their ways and affairs are beyond our ken and to meddle would be dangerous, possibly catastrophic. Maybe even cataclysmic.

And THAT would be putting the cataclysm among the pigeons, and no mistake!

Ahem.

Friday.

Got up.
Got dressed.
Went to wee café for breakfast.
Had lovely burger.
Ate half of accidentally-bought extra burger.
Mocked Thumper for eating NO veg.
Failed to realise until now the extreme irony incurred here by the interface of this fact with his nickname.
Went into London proper.

It was alright, I guess. We didn't really plan it too well, so wandered aimlessly and visited FAR fewer shops than I intended. I guess the rest of them wanted to get to a pub, but I was more interested in SHOPPING, dammit!
T'was not to be, not really.

It was hot, it has to be said. 22* at one point IIRC.

Points Of Interest:

Julie and I standing outside the bank watching a gang of hardhatless workmen hauling planks, tools and nails up 5 storeys of scaffolding - by tying a rope around each item.
AROUND - meaning "One loop, tied horizontally".
The suspense was a killer, but nothing fell and nobody got killz0red.

Ah well... you can't have everything.

Sat in Leicester Square. Ate muffins.
Watched the aforementioned Pigeon Mortal Kombat.

We passed a great sex shop, the name of which cracked me up.
"Lovecrafts".

What the hell?!?!
Are we talking Cthulhu porn, here?
DJ Bastard agreed with me on this one - I texted him, and he asked why I hadn't gone in and gotten a few Chtulhu butt-plugs.
Being honest, the ones I have are still fine and will probably last me well into the summer.

Looked into a few nifty wee Oriental stores - I wanted to look more, but we needed to move on.
Ended up in an Irish pub that CLAIMED to serve food, but didn't.
This is after the Red Lion told us that they didn't serve food until 5pm. We didn't wanna wait.
The Irish place never told us until AFTER we'd ordered drinks.

On to Hamley's, where I got the best hat ever.
Flame-print stetson. According to Lainey "That hat was made for you, Steve! It IS you!".
Thanks. I think :)

In the interests of easy-to-read-ness, I'll post this now, and do Part 2 in a moment.

Beearrbee!