Chopped Liver – Bus Stop

Family Day Out today – have to say it got off to a bad start – I wont say why – except to say that B has a major thing about people smoking outside at restaurants – but in my view – she took it just one step too far – oops, I said why. Now I’ll be in trouble. Well she can start her own blog if she wants – call it maybe “Slapped Face”.

Anyway, we went to the British Museum – with Weedy of course – why else would one go to a museum – HA!

Got off at Tot Ct Rd station, as you do, then started walking round in circles trying to find the way – thing about Central London which I have never noticed before is that it has brilliantly detailed maps of the immediate location on every other lamppost – but of course smartarse Weedy (who is still only 5 yrs old remember) went up to one of them worked out where we were and which direction we needed to go – eh, that’ll be the direction of the massive yellow box with the words “British Museum” on it.

Had a great day – he made a bird that was put on display in the foyer. Nachas. We went to the African-themed story time event – and wow what an amazing storyteller – the best I have ever heard – got us all (children and adults alike) to attire ourselves with multicoloured African gear and engage in the most fun and active audience participation imaginable. Finally. Yes finally, this enabled me to come out of my mood!

At the end of the day – or what should have been the end of the day – B went off to do her thang (shant embarrass her further by saying what that was!). (Unless you get me drunk – which, given my situation, is not too likely). And Weedy and I decide to continue our discovery of the sights and sounds of Central London. Given his obsession with all things London and all things Transport – a first ever stroll down Oxford Street was the ideal choice. Boy did this open his eyes. Loved the endless procession of buses and taxis. Loved the detour into Selfridges where we checked out the FoodHall – and its friendly selection of gaping-mouthed fish.

And then finally (after the biggest pizza I have ever seen a 5 yr old consume) it was time to go home. Portland St. That’s where we get the 113 bus. No Dad, Marble Arch. No, Portland St, son. Def Marble Arch dad. The thing is, I do not wisely take on my son in an argument about London Buses – he is invariably right – and I have to say, he did look totally dejected when I pointed out the error of his ways – but only after walking him down to Marble Arch itself to prove it. And what did we see when we got there? The 113 bus! See, Dad – Told You!!!!!!

Not so fast, boy. It’s Alight Only! HA! HA! and Triple HA!


I really shouldn’t be so competitive with my boy!

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