Today, Marco and I got up late and went to Borough Market to eat bacon bubble battys. (Batties? I don't know the appropriate plural form of the English slang for "ciabatta.") We met our friends to engage in the exceedingly yuppie activity of wine tasting. I've never been to a wine tasting before. I learned many things. First of all, after ten or twelve single sips from glasses of different wines, I understood why experienced tasters spit the stuff out. I lost my inhibitions about lunging for the rubbish bins full of sawdust rather quickly after that. Secondly, wine tastings attract alcoholics of all ages, shapes and sizes. Particularly entertaining are the dowagers with their glasses carefully slung around their necks in special cradles. They are the aristocracy, the Grand Duchesses among winos.
They never, ever spit.
Thirdly, even if you do spit, your palate will be torn to shreds after four of five tastes of shiraz. Fourthly, when all the wine starts to taste the same, it's time to start drinking in earnest. Fifthly, hm, fifthly. Maybe I had a fifth point, but it's probably gone off for a swim in one of the tracts of drowned neurons.
Anyway, what's really important is that I rode the Jubilee line of the Underground for the first time today. It's the newest underground line, first opened in 1979. It services many older stations, but a lot of those were revamped to accommodate the new line. We rode from London Bridge to Westminster. I think I'm in love.