Irrefutable proof that London is not Logan, UT

In support of the title, I submit to you this photograph from a recent burlesque performance held at the Southbank Center. These two strapping young fellows are nearing the end of their lively stage show - one of several variously themed anti-clothing extravaganzas let loose upon my pulsating occulatoriums. Held for free, mind you, in an open theatre where any impressionable soul could happen upon said event.



This, I assure you, would not happen in Logan, UT. It was great.

In other news, we are growing into acceptance of our crap flat. We found an excellent Kona Smoke commuter bike for SB for £150 (including two locks - each of which is worth a downpayment on an aircraft carrier). Yesterday (Saturday) I dragged SB all over London by bicycle. We hit the Tate Britain for about 20 minutes before it closed and caught sight of the bizarre running event being held inside the museum as a performance art piece. We then rode through south London and back up to the Barbican Arts Center, which has the most unbelievable 70s style: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbican_Arts_Centre#History_and_Design.

All in all it was a good day but it was a bit much for SB's first ride in a long time.

Otherwise things are fairly good. I caught SB's wicked cold for a couple of days, work continues to be interesting, I went on a club ride last week where I seriously got trounced but had a good time nonetheless. SB wrote on this in her blog but last Saturday we went to Borough Market and had the most unspeakably delicious grilled cheese sandwich - a truly ambrosial delectation sent from above, or least from a giant steel griddle staffed by swarthy Scando-maids.