Londonium, part two

For those of you wondering what I'm doing posting two days in a row, it's got to do with Austin having his laptop and paying for two hours of wireless login per session- I decided that the blog was a good place to record my comings and goings before another glass of Strongbows makes me forget everything I've done.
Today we started off and the V & A Museum as planned, but due to a wicked barometer headache, I only managed the fashion exhibit, which included the 60s clothes, before begging for a change of scenery. The skies were spitting rain, so we dashed into the Museum of Natural History across the road and took a tour of the mammals and dinosaurs, which featured a hilarious robotic T-Rex making children scream all around me. Not much help for the headache there, but a lot of cranky and cross parents shouting at their children.
I took a break in the afternoon to use the hotel swimming pool and stretch the jetlagged body, as I tend to suffer from what I refer to as Economy Class Neck Syndrome. Then we dashed off to Kensal Green. I have a certain fondness for foreign cemeteries to begin with, but I have some scenes in my novel sequel which involve KG and I needed to do a bit of research at the site to make things more realistic. Not as pretty as Brompton's, and I recognised the crematorium from Freddie Mercury's cremation service there, but I managed to get the pictures and visual information I needed. As well, it was a lovely walk around the grounds under sunny, warmer skies.
We met up with blogger Marietta at the Tea Clipper pub in Knightsbridge for some World Cup action after that. She is a lovely, fun person, and I'll be seeing her again tomorrow night for blogger dinner, or blinner for short. Despite the outcome, it was a fantastic, competitive game with excitement at both ends, and after Zidane's disgraceful conduct, my heart sank a bit and I just had a feeling France was done for. The Italian fans spilled out on the Brompton road afterwards in cars and motorbikes, waving flags and honking up a storm. It was great to watch their pride and happiness, though it must have been mayhem back home in Toronto, which boasts the largest Italian population of any city outside the old country. I also had to laugh- a friend of mine in Toronto text-messaged me. One word: crap. I didn't recognise the number, and asked who it was. We've been out of touch for months, and it made him laugh to find out he was sending a message to London. Hard life, he replied. Yeah, isn't it?