Today we got up and decided to make the mission to Camden. I’ve been to the market a number of times but in recent years I haven’t been able to find any punks – what Camden used to be most famous for! So we jumped on a bus and jumped on a tube and made our way to the manic marketplace. Last time we were in London it wasn’t a Saturday and I assumed that was why there were no punks, but it seems not. No punks today either 🙁 When I lived in London they always used to hang out on the Camden lock bridge in full costume, nothing today. So we just walked around and took in the general mad ambience and variety of products for sale, everything from leather bound diaries to corsets.
After missioning around Camden we did the mad thing and went to Primark in Marble Arch. Imagine Adderley street on new year’s eve, except every Saturday at Primark. It’s always NUTS there! It’s absolute mayhem but the clothes are so cheap – even in Rand. I do feel a bit guilty though because I’ve heard these horror stories about Primark workers sowing help notes into the labels of the clothing because they work in sweat shops and can’t get out! So that’s a bit awkward when you have the Rand and can’t help buying the slave made clothes, eek! Anyone else heard horror stories like this?! Well…they also have really funny items of clothing like…butt pads…
After we had spent some time in Primark we ventured out to meet an old friend for lunch. We found a pub that shared the same name as an apartment block we know so we thought it might be a sign. I had a good ol’English roast, which was very tasty! We had a pint or two, caught up with our friend and eventually head back to Oxford Street.
Unfortunately, after turning a corner I suddenly felt a rumble in my tummy. Eh oh. This isn’t like home where you can jump in your car and rush home for privacy. You’re in London with minimal public toilets, about 40 minutes away from your hotel room, what are you gonna do?!
Well I decided to go back to the pub because there was no way I was going to be able to mission around. NO women likes to use the loo in public but these truly were unusual circumstances. So I returned to the pub to discover the loo was like a cupboard under the stairs, a single toileted room. GREAT! NO privacy and an awkward situation. So I figured, I’ll just QUICKLY go. Like, a little drop off and quickly flush and rush away. I mean, there’s no need to read a magazine and have a field day about it!
So I sat down, cringing all the way and minded my own business. I’d seen the handle for the loo as a red ring next to the toilet. So I quickly did my business and flushed instantly. All of sudden a huge, loud siren started going off. OH MY GOD!!! What’s happening?! And, more importantly, why hasn’t the toilet flushed?! The panic sets in.
I quickly look around, under the thumping sounds of people rushing down the stairwell above and realised I’ve pulled the disabled toilet help chain!!! I start a panic combination between yelling,”I’m fine! I’m fine!” through the toilet door and manically trying to find how to flush the toilet. Luckily the flush was a push in button hidden under the toilet paper on top of the loo which I frantically pushed amid the sirens and feet thumping.
Then the best past, walking out into a full restaurant DYING. It’s the one time I was really grateful I didn’t know anyone in London. I ran home in shame.
