"There's that bloke off the telly."

Waking up with no hangover was brilliant and The Blonde and I had big plans - Camera Club London was going to be in session, starting off in Columbia Road and making it's way to St Paul's and Southbank. We dandered to Columbia Road market so that The Blonde could experience the Cockney flower sellers shouting, and see the beautiful east end crowd again. It's so busy that I really want to punch people, but then I cheer up and forget all about it as I discover a vintage stall and spend money on a peach teacup set and a tin with a horse on. Brilliant.

We go and wait at the bus stop to go to The City, and a group of rather posh boys wanders past, clutching big bottles of Evian and looking rather disheveled. One of them asks,

"I say - do you know of any cafes around here? A greasy spoon, if you will."

I point them in the right direction and get a fist-bump in return for my helpfulness. I always gets asked for directions. I either look very friendly, helpful and knowledgeable; or like a cabbie. I think it's the latter.

The Blonde is sat at the bus stop and is rifling through her handbag looking for something. She pulls out a packet of snacks she'd bought for the train.

"I'm still clutching these fucking wasabi peas!"

She then eats a rice cracker that she found in her handbag and assesses it.

"Yes, salty and a bit cheesy. I want more."

After strolling around St Paul's and Southbank with every other fucking tourist in London, we park ourselves in a pub for lunch. The speakers were blaring out some R n B rubbish. I announce that it makes me want to hurt myself.

The Blonde: "Is this Chris Brown?"

Me: "I don't know... some TWAT."

After a hearty lunch we wander along the Thames Path and walk past The Golden Hind.

The Blonde spies someone and says,

"That's the bloke off the telly!"

By 'bloke off the telly', she means Andrew Marr. He's walking along with someone who we presume is his daughter, looking like he's talking very earnestly and knowledgeably about the ship.

The path runs along past the London Dungeons and we walk past it under the bridge arch. The Blonde is concentrating on faffing with her camera or something, and I spy a very tall, sinister-looking guy who works for the Dungeons, drawing the crowds in. I don't say anything. He walks past The Blonde and touches her shoulder, whispering in her ear, "Go easy, my child...."

The Blonde literally does a comedy gasp and nearly falls over, tears filling her eyes. The man walks off and I'm laughing at her shock, but she actually is frightened and has to go and have a moment to compose herself as she tries not to have a heart attack and vomit and sob all at once.

"I feel sick! I'm going to be sick! Fucking hell! I've got a very nervous disposition!"

A family walks past with a child screaming it's lungs out and she wails,

"That's how I feel inside! I know where you're coming from."

I take her back to mine to recover by watching some DVDs and drinking some tea. This relaxed, sensible domesticity doesn't last long and before I know it, we're finishing off Sunday with another trip to my local.

I wince as the barman says, "You were in here Friday weren't you."

Me: "Yes, I am dreadfully sorry if we were inappropriate or anything - it was a little, er, messy."

Barman: "No, don't worry - you gave us some great business."

I smile weakly and slink off back to the table feeling like the local lush and deciding that maybe I shouldn't go in for a while.

We round off the evening by watching The Inbetweeners with a take away and laughing at one of my favourite lines from the show.

"The winky face is the mark of a moron!"

;)

The first day of 2010

Sunlight burning my eyes? Yep.

Mouth like a birdcage floor? Yep.

Head like some small animals had taken up residence in it and were having a metal concert in there? Yep.

It could only be a New Year's Day hangover. My first words of the new day of 2010 were,

"Urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh.... someone make me some tea."

Animal Girl and KiteBoy felt the same of course. We felt guilty because of the glorious winter sunshine outside so rather than dying on the sofa which we all really wanted to do, we decided to make the effort to go and wander.

I made bacon sandwiches for breakfast, a task which should take no more than 20 minutes maximum. It took me in my champagne-muddled state, around an hour to make. It was going to be a tough day. Animal Girl felt particularly bad as she really disliked the 'dirty, minging' London water so had only consumed alcohol the evening before.

The simple task of showering took far longer than it needed to. I tried to make myself feel better by making a special effort with my hair and makeup. This did not have the desired effect of masking the aftermath of the NYE festivities. I merely looked like a hangover with really good hair and very expensively Lancome'd eyelashes.

We embraced the fact we'd awoken in a brand new shiny year in one of the best cities in the world and ambled from St Paul's to Tower Bridge and Southbank. It was a great way to start the year. Apparently though, every European was actually on this path today. After a good trek and a dip in my blood sugar, I threw a small strop about climbing the stairs up the Tower Bridge to walk along the top, with the whole population of Europe, and stayed on the banks of the Thames with my camera, capturing the first sunset of the year.

At Tower Bridge there was a little German Christmas market stall selling wurst, frites and gluhwein and for some bizarre reason, pumping out Tenor Saw's 'Ring the Alarm' - it's surprising how good reggae sounds in the City by the river in the sun.

Animal Girl is so called in this blog because she's obsessed with animals. She owns a rabbit named Tim (kudos for the human name) and two Dumbo rats who are very friendly and also have excellent people names. I'd told her about the rodents on the Tube tracks and we kept a keen eye out when we waited at the Tube station.

KiteBoy: "There's one!"

Animal Girl, getting extremely excited: "THERE'S ONE! A MOUSE, A MOUSE!!!"

I fell about laughing at the glee in her eyes and watched as lots of European tourists craned their necks to catch a glimpse of a London Tube mouse. She created quite a stir on the platform.

We wandered down on Southbank in the evening light, watching the neon carousel and listening to Big Ben chime across the water at 6pm, laughing at the amount of people queueing to go on the London Eye. We also stood puzzled at a street entertainer (I use the term very very loosely) who had a queue of excited idiots waiting to be bent into poses by him, to have a photograph taken. I tried to understand it. I really did. But it was just crap. And a dubious way for some guy dressed like he was in The Matrix to touch children.

By this point, we were dehydrated, hungry, frozen and still really hanging. An evening of cooking, eating and relaxing beckoned. KiteBoy was hardcore enough to get back on the beers. Me and Animal Girl stuck to water and tea and had an early night.

Daily Photo

St Paul's at night. Magical.