Well, I’m not going to be getting my name on a plaque at the yoga studio. Although it’s only Day 12, I missed a class yesterday and it really wasn’t one hundred percent my fault. And not just because I was unable to fully stand. Let me explain.

Friday morning, brother David and (fake?) cousin Rachel came to Londontown for a 48 hour whirlwind tour of the city. After meeting at Momo’s we decided to hit the town and get in a 4 1/2 minute tour of the major sites of the last several centuries. I should have known I was in for a rough day, when my first step led me to fall down the stairs, Jamaican bobsled style. In the shortest sightseeing tour of all time, Rachel somehow was able to take pictures of the main attractions without stopping; and she managed to not run into things/fall down staircases. Needless to say, I was impressed.

As the four of us were rather hungry after the excruciatingly tiresome walk, we stopped in  our first of many pubs for the day to grab some lunch. I believe someone made a remark about mod-er-a-tion, but I’d venture a guess that it was more tongue-in-cheek than a Squid-like diatribe. After several hours at various pubs and playing rounds of ‘fruties’, I realized it was definitely tongue-in-cheek. We lasted for quite a while, semi-culminating in drinking cider in Leadenhall Market. I still can’t say with certainty I know what cider is. And I’m definitely not sure what semi-culminating could be, but suffice to say we ended up going for a curry/sleeping through curry, before heading back to Tooting.

Somewhere along the line (more specifically Elephant and Castle) I left David, Matt, Rachel and Momo, and went back to my dorm, throwing in a trip to Chelsea due to my poor circumnavigational skills. Unfortunately, this was only to learn that you cannot buy peanut butter after a certain hour.

After making it home, I curled up, and listening to the gentle sounds of Yvaine whingeing in Stardust, I fell asleep. This was only to wake up three hours later to go to yoga class. Mind you, there was no way I’d be doing any sort of one-legged stands, and a back-bend would lead to certain death, but I wanted that plaque. Unfortunately, since I live in the ghetto, Transport for London (TFL) is happy to cut off my line on the weekends, and I found my tube station was closed. So I sprinted over to Elephant and Castle and discovered an unheard of hour-long delay on the Northern line, so I figured it was a sign from God that I was doomed to miss the class.

Not quite thinking straight, I walked to get coffee, and decided to cut my losses and head back to Tooting, only to find that my companions had raged on, and were in a far less excitable state than I. So we watched the Inbetweeners and then went back to the city to recreate the day before with relative success. It was a great time, and we met up with a bunch of Matt and Momo’s friends for a really fun night out. But at the end of the day we all went back to Tooting, got pizza, and fell asleep to Stardust. And in the morning? We watched Stardust. If only they gave out a plaque for that. I’d have already had the thirty days in the bag.

Location: Bus bench somewhere in Chelsea