so, having spent $900 on a one night stay in what could best be described as a hotel that had seen its heyday at around the same time as Cyndi Lauper had seen hers I've now moved to another hotel so far north of the office it comes with its own sled and team of huskies.
My, isn't London expensive?
And yet it's packed with Bentleys - you can't move for them - each looking for all the world like a Chrysler 300 - but with more fake looking wood. I'm amazed at the number of people here who seem to be rolling in dough - and it's not just the Russians and their 'model girlfriends'... it is (it seems) everybody but me.
I watched a while this morning as a group of young guys set about sweeping the leaves from the street outside a row of expensive houses. Moving carefully between the tonnes and tonnes of expensive German sheet metal they barely seemed to cast a glance upward. Which made me wonder - where are the riots? where is the class war? why haven't the Prosche drivers been garrotted.
At least in the US we have the good sense to place the disenfranchised well away from the people with money. In places like New Orleans. And where proximity is forced (LA for example) we build large electric fences and have them patrolled by trigger happy young men with something to prove. This, it seems to me, is entirely sensible and neccessary.
Yet the Brits seem to work on their own particular caste system - on people knowing their place and believing that what they have is what they ought to have. There's a satisfaction here that amazes me - a carefully balanced social system too delicate even to be examined.
I'll stop meandering and try to get to a point - if you want me I'll be out keying Mercs
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