Capital!

One nice thing about the uneven currency exchange rate is that I get even more excited than usual about finding dropped coins. For the effort of picking up one pence, I effectively pick up two pennies. It's not just the usual joy of money for nothing - it's twice as much money for the same amount of nothing. I found a five pence piece last weekend, oh my god the excitement. I perk up unreasonably every time I hear the sound of metal tinkling against pavement.

Less fun are the coin-sized blisters speckled across the bottoms of my feet. After a great deal of experimentation, I have found that my cowboy boots are the only footwear rigorous enough to withstand the amount of walking I do - easily two hours a day. Good thing I like cowboy boots. Good thing I own cowboy boots.

In a surprise twist to my unsurprising campaign to find the best pasty shop in London, the current forerunner is a small stand in Kings Charing Cross railway station, next to the McDonald's Burger King. Nicely saucy filling, lots of black pepper, crust the right balance of flaky and chewy. While I am pleased by this early return on my investigative rigor, which leaves no stone (or pasty shop) unturned, further examination and testing is necessary. Perhaps I merely caught this pasty shop on a good day. Perhaps there is a yet better pasty shop just around the corner. The pursuit of truth must continue.

I have discovered today that LFS, prior to becoming LFS, was not a paper warehouse. It was a banana warehouse. [Insert loads of exclamation points.] This is highly symbolic, and the announcement came just after my lecture yesterday about the fate of the Gros Michel. Significant glances passed between me and my lunchmates.