Today, Rosencrantz and I walked home. From the Strand. To Hampstead.



It all started when we couldn't decide to take the bus or tube. Tube was fast, but underground and the day was gorgeous; and the bus was tiresomely slow. So armed with a map, we walked.

Brilliant! Took about an hour and a half, which is virtually the same length as the bus would have. It didn't feel like a long time, though, and I didn't feel even remotely tired at the end. We went up Holborn, crossed Russel Square, had a very tense trip through the UCL territory, and finally traversed Regents Park.





Luckily, we brave KCl students did not run into any members of the rival UCL gang

The weather is just exciting at the moment, as are the flowers. I'm a happy-hippy. But Regents Park is lame. Just tired, and fed up. As parks go, quite appalling, especially one as famous as Regents Park. We were particularly scornful of the lake, at which Rosencrantz provided some impromptu Seuss:

I do not like this lake at all
I do not like in spring or fall



I do not like the lake I view
I do not like this lake, do you?

I may try the walk more often, because it is no slower than taking the bus, it's healthier, it allows me to enjoy the sun and the city, and I'm starting to become more of a health freak anyway.

We're about to go off for tea in Ping Pong, then watch Blade Runner at the IMAX. I can't define, in parent-friendly words, how...how...it's going to be.

Finally, Percy Bysse Shelley stated his reasons for becoming a vegetarian was he never wanted to involve himself in anything he coulnd't write a beautiful poem about. It's positively the most inspiring motive for life I've heard in quite some time. Ignoring the fact I can't write a beautifuul poem about anything, I am going to adopt it.