Travelling in London is like a game of russian roulette. You never know what you're in for when you step out the door. You might die on the subway, get your pocket picked, or meet a famous person. Drunk and homeless people assault you with their fragrant personality, very tall black models puff on suspicious smelling sticks, rats run up your leg.

Maybe I am speaking as a Sanitized Singaporean, but sometimes, I just wanna be home.

One encounter of note:

'Happy Belated birthday!'
*nods dumbly*
'Could you make this out to Victoria?'
'How do you spell that?'
' I wasn't aware there was an alternative way to spell Victoria'
'You'd be surprised, the Jennifers spelt J-E-N-I-F-F-E-R, the Daves spelt D-A-E-V, the Amys with an E..'
'I suppose it takes all sorts...'
'Yes... where are you from?'
'Singapore, you were meant to be there but didn't go?'
'Yes, Dave McKean and I had an important meeting for MirrorMask.. but I really want to go there... I hear the food is amazing'
'Yes! My sister was so disappointed'
'I'll be sure to go when I have a chance'
*hands my endless nights back*
'Thank you!'

Now that kinda makes it all worth it.