We've got a bleeder

It seems to be an unlucky week in TheLondonHouse. Tonight, during an act of congress, I sustained an injury. Without going into too much detail, TheBlonde and I were standing in a passionate clinch. I ignored the slight nip of a fingernail as my undergarments were cast aside but was distracted half a minute later when I heard a dripping sound.

Since I expected TheBlonde's unusually extreme level of excitement to be the cause, imagine my surprise when I looked down to find a small pool of blood. Imagine the sheer horror when I noticed the source of the said pool was TheLittleLondonGuy himself.

Luckily, I managed to stop the bleeding fairly quickly with some bogroll but it looks like I'll be out of action for a few days until everything heals. We woulnd't want to take any chances, would we?

(P.S. - I'd like to just point out that even after my brush with death, I was gentleman enough not to leave The Blonde wanting for anything)

Somebody get me out of here...

My procrastination has really hit an all time high. I have SO much to do here it's unreal but instead, I've spent the day watching the Paramount Comedy Channel and reading other people's Blogs.

If I had done things at 9 o'clock this morning when I got up, I'd be able to go out tonight and have something to write about here.

On the up side, this site got 20 visits yesterday. An all-time record. I owe this in part to referrals from Daga. I've been reading her Blog of late and I posted a comment there, so she put a link to my site. For those of you who haven't arrived here via Daga's blog, you should follow this link and pay her a visit.

My Florence Nightingale efforts have been paying off with some serious cuddles from The Blonde. Yesterday, she managed to hobble up to the cafe to get out of my way for a while (bless her) and returned all fresh-faced from her outdoor adventure.

I used the time alone wisely and took a book into the bathroom without fear of interruption. It was heaven, I tell you.

I haven't forgotten about my pact with myself to get out more. Yesterday afternoon saw an impromptu (but long overdue) visit to Postmans Park. This is a small area of land dedicated to ordinary people who have given their lives to save others. You can read the story about it here, so I won't go on about it too much other than to say that it's a very uplifting experience.

My only concern is that there are no recent plaques there. Does this mean that people stopped helping each other or just stopped being recognised for it?

Since it's Wednesday, I've decided it's time to start planning a weekend adventure. It's going to be a bit difficult with The Blonde still out of action. Any ideas or suggestions would be more than welcome.

Busy Weekend

Well, what a weekend. Where do I start? Let's try Friday...

I've decided to ease myself into my new life gradually. There's no sense in risking any muscle injuries after all. It's lucky, therefore, that I live within walking distance of Graze.

I haven't been in there since it re-opened and, although I wasn't too keen on its previous incarnation, Otto, I threw on a shirt, grabbed The Blonde and headed for the bar.

There was a live Soul band playing a little too loudly in the bar, so we didn't really get a chance to talk much but it was a decent enough night. The cocktail menu was pretty standard and my mojito had far too much sugar and not enough rum. The wine list wasn't up to much either but we settled on the house rose and by the end of the night we were dancing like maniacs.

After a lazy morning, we decided to go for a run along the canal before lunch. Despite being a member of various gyms for most of my adult life, I'm probably one of the most unfit people of my age-group. After 20 minutes I was finished and watched in awe as The Blonde disappeared into the distance. Loyalty obviously has no place in fitness.

Perhaps it was poetic justice then when, at around midnight on Saturday during a friend's birthday party in a pub in Marylebone, The Blonde decided that walking just wasn't her type of thing and fell over her own feet on the way to the toilet.

And so, Sunday afternoon was spent in the A&E ward at St Mary's. Luckily the x-rays didn't come up with anything but she does have to rest for a week. This gives me the chance to play Florence Nightingale for a week and rack up some serious Brownie points.

The Plan

Now, it would be all too easy to go at this without too much thought. I could visit bars willy-nilly without making too much progress and where would that get us? What we need is a plan.

For those who haven't quite grasped what I'm doing here, it can be boiled down to this; I want to feel that I'm getting the most out of London. It's an expensive place to live but it's the most amazing city in the world. But what's the point of living in (and paying for) the most amazing city in the world if I stay in and watch TV every night? I might as well half my rent and move to Birmingham.

You know the feeling you get when you've just seen a brilliant concert, art exhibition, attraction or sporting event? That's what I want. You don't get that from the sofa, from the internet or even from a newspaper. So I need to go out and get it.

Now here's the catch. I want to do it without breaking the bank. Actually, I NEED to do it without breaking the bank. As I've said before, I'm in this incredible place and I'm going to enjoy it. The problem is that London has a habit of sucking the cash straight out of your pocket as soon as you leave the house.

I'm starting out with a copy of TimeOut. My first challenge is to find an event for the weekend. I'll let you know how I get on...

My first post

You're going to have to bare with me for a while. I've never done anything like this before and I'm afraid that my grasp of the English language might not be anywhere near as comprehensive as I believe it to be, let alone as humourous.

By way of a brief introduction, let me tell you what's on my mind...

I've lived in London now for about 5 years. I love the place. As soon as I arrived here, I wondered why the hell I'd been wasting my time in all those other places.

But London doesn't give you anything for free. You have to work at it. And I mean work. When you do work, though, the rewards are plentiful.

My problem at the moment is that I stopped working. I stopped going to the bars, talking to the bartenders and generally lost my place in the Soho bar scene. There was a time where I was known by most of the decent bartenders and doormen in the area but then I found The Blonde and settled into a pizza-and-DVD groove that's starting to drive me mental.

Don't get me wrong, I love her to pieces but I do need to get out a bit more.

So, this is where I chronical my adventures. Maybe people will watch, maybe they'll even take part. Maybe I'll just be sending my thoughts out into the void. Only time will tell.