Mapping Union Jack (part 3)

It was suffocating. People were swarming at every nook and cranny. It was as if one-tenth population of every country cramped into one city. Space, which I’m desperate for, is a luxury I can’t afford in London. (Am I claustrophobic or just that I can’t stand too many people? Do they have phobia for that. Crowdphobia? I don’t know). Perhaps I was more attuned to cities like Christchurch, New Zealand, where I spent my 3 years cursing and been cursed by neighbors for walking on their football-pitch-size lawn. They could even afford to keep lawn-mowing tractors in the porch. Or perhaps it could be the culture. NZ has more outdoor-oriented society and ski-fields, mountains, beaches are just stone-throw away. Unlike London which is smacked in the middle of nowhere.

Ever heard of subliminal messages? How messages are relayed with utmost subtlety into your mind without you noticing it. It’s like watching porn and remembering which nipple of Britney69 is pierced - after gotten high on Jack Daniel's. Anyway, Londoners suffer from this (now I made it sounds like a disease). Ask any lady, they’d be able to spell out all the shops along Queen St and Bond St – in alphabetical and “affordability” order. Amazing. Yet, they still guide you to the wrong London Bridge. Honestly, too many shophaholic zombies make me dizzy.

England is as boring as its cricket, played in slow motion, over a span of 3 days. They should thank the Scots and the Welch for their kilts and their amazing God-given landscape. At least, they could offer the world a bit of culture and tongue-twisted slangs. Jeremy Clarkson once, had his kid asked him,”What makes us English?”. He was speechless. The Concorde was French, Harrods are Arabs and now, the Range Rover has gone Indian. It could be a matter of time before they lose the Queen to the Arabs. Diana almost did. Who knows.