Today was an interesting day. My first adventure was to see my accountant at 10am. The website bus route told me it would take 30 minutes. I prefer the tube as I am getting familiar with it, but Ben and Tanya both insisted the bus was better, besides they piped, I could have one bus that would take me all the way to my destination. So I walk up to a bus stop and realize I need a ticket. My choices are one trip £2.00 or day pass £3.80 coins only. I don’t have £3.80 so I had to put in £2 and get my one way trip. After a few minutes of waiting, I realize that they drive on the “wrong” side of the road and I am waiting on the wrong side for the bus.

I finally get on the bus and find a seat beside this black lady whose name I found out was Liz. I say “Hello” and we have a brief chat. I ask her is this bus is going to “Sussex Gardens”, she stated that it was terminating at Paddington (we were on 436) but the bus in front of us #36 was going where I wanted to and she was going that way herself. I asked her how we were going to get on the bus in front of us and she assured me that there was another “#36” behind us. Then she asked me where I was from and we started a conversation about her cousin in Toronto and how she has visited Canada before. From this point on, I began to wonder. She took out a piece of paper and asked me for my phone number, so I thought, “What the heck humour her” and gave her my Sarnia home number. Then she proceeded to give me her work number and cell number. I found out she was a psychiatrist and helped people, which I told her I helped people to and told her a little bit about pastoring and the homeless shelter. She was starting to get excited. Turns out she was born in Nigeria and I told her I was in Cameroon and she was getting even more excited. She wanted to know that I reached my destination and wanted to call me later on to make sure that everything was okay and noticed my cell number and asked me for the number, so I gave it to her. At this point, I still needed her assistance.

Well we reached Paddington station and she asked me about my bus pass of which I explained the single pass, only £2 pound problem. She gave me a mini dissertation on how to always buy the day pass and took me to bowls of Paddington, where the tube is to purchase a £5.60 tube/bus day pass. On the way to the station, I saw a sign “Humped Zebra crossing” which I immediately scanned the terrain for immoral zebras doing potential luwd acts. Then I thought, she is black and I am white “mon” and maybe this was a warning but I dismissed it as coincidence and comic relief. We then proceeded to ascend out of the bowls, past all the crowds and go back to the bus which she took me to the opposite side where we got off. Very strange, I am now heading back. The next bus stopped and she asked the driver if this bus stopped at Sussex Gardens. The driver had this distracted look, like she was noticing some “humped zebras” or something and said “sure”. So this is where Liz and I parted company. She said to keep in touch and call her how I made out. So now going the wrong direction, I boarded the bus without Liz and headed south. I asked another passenger who said yes, this could take me to Sussex Gardens. After we rounded the corner, they pointed to a parallel street and said, “That was Sussex Gardens”. I wanted the “bus stop” Sussex Gardens and they pointed to the “street” Sussex Gardens. At this point I decided that Ben didn’t know what he was talking about with the “buses are better thing” and I was going with my original gut feeling, “take the tube” and proceeded to jump off the bus.

By this time I am late by 15 minutes and still have to get to my first appointment. I make a mad dash for the Bakerloo line and as luck had it, the train was waiting there for me so I jumped on. I waited...and waited and waited. Apparently they blew a fuse. Twenty minutes later the train starts up. So we are on our way and I can’t remember the exit to get off on. I remembered the last time, when I was with Janet not to take the Marylebone exit so I took the one before. In hindsight, I should have taken the one after. Oh well, I love to walk and I finally arrived an hour late.

My goal was to chat, pick up my new UK credit card and products for the show. I ended up arguing with the VAT inspector (equivalent to GST) on the phone and having a rushed chat with Melanie. I brought a small backpack and had to pack 15 bottles of calm, 100 brochures, and 500 samples. I forgot about the 500 samples, so they gave me an extra bag and I put the extra mail, some samples and my prized Arcteryx Theta mountain climbing hard shell (i.e. glorified rain coat) in the bag. My thought was, “You better not put that bag done somewhere”. Actually it wasn’t my thought but my wife’s voice I heard. Then I started dreaming about her and the night before we left...never mind. So off I go the “right” tube station...only to find out I was at the wrong tube. Up and out, down the road, down the four more flights of stairs to the wrong deck. Up, over and down, I am now on the right deck heading for Charing Cross. So I go for a 15 minute relaxing ride. Then a mad dash up and out the tube for my next appointment. I am now only 15 minutes late.


My next appointment is with my banker Tom. I come rushing in, slightly panting from taking 2 steps at a time, up 4 flights, with a 30 lb back pack. I definitely didn’t look like I was a business man type. The bank is right in front of Trafalgar Square, one of the areas where they had G12 demonstrations. Just the day before, they smashed the windows of the RBS bank down the road. Am I am in, you guessed it, an RBS bank, and what do I see...a policeman dressed in riot gear with some gadget in his hands. He walked past me back and forth several times giving me the “Don’t you dare” look. So there I am, in the bank getting entertained by a Bobby waiting for my banker who seems more late than I was.

We finally leave the bank for lunch and go to a back alley swank Italian joint where I ended up ordering smoked salmon on a blue cheese type pasta dish that was very good. The only problem was that the salmon looked more like a garnish than the main meal. But hey, RBS paid for my lunch so the Dutchman in me didn’t want to complain. In the mean time, I receive a phone call from my accountant. She forgot to give me my new credit card and drove back to her other office 2 hours away.

Tom is an interesting guy. We met him last August for the first time and I gave him some samples of Natural Calm. He is a marathon runner and very active. He is a card carrying sceptic but did believe enough in the samples that he decided to purchase a large bottle. A month after he received his bottle, he severed the end of his finger almost complete off. It healed so quickly that the doctors were amazed and the only thing he could attribute it to was the Natural Calm. The large bottle he purchased about 6 months ago and still has about ¼ of the bottle left. He graciously gave me the okay for a video testimony. So after lunch, we went to this quiet court yard and he gave us rave reviews, okay, it really wasn’t exactly raving, it was more like confessions of a sceptic, but it was raw and authentic and that is what I am after. So we left and I went to drop him off back at the bank and I snapped a picture of him with Trafalgar square in the background when I all of a sudden thought...where is my white bag? I won’t tell you what Janet said in my head...well it wasn’t really bad but I think I deserved to hear her words. So we bolted for the restaurant, only to hear the waitress say “I didn’t take it honest”. Then I had a flash, it is in the courtyard and sure enough, there it lies, all lone, rejected and hurt. Did you know it is not good to have thoughts like “Don’t leave your bag and lose your coat. “The Secret” people say you are speaking that into existence. I don’t believe it because I still have my bag and my coat.

Well I left Tom and went back home, via the tube this time and made sure I got off at Oval station. When I got out of the tube, I was disoriented and started heading in the wrong direction. I finally got out my little map and asked for directions (like a man) and figured out where I was.

I got home and started to do some cleaning up and my phone rang. You guessed it, it was Liz and she wanted to know how I made out with everything. I am not sure if she was genuinely interested in my welfare or in me as some psychiatric case study. I told her everything went well and thanked her for her help. She said, Keep in “touch” and then we ended the call.


I went back out on the system to get to my final destination, the Olympia where my show is going to be Saturday and Sunday. I didn’t want to be running around with my whole booth in my backpack. It took me 55 minutes to get there and 60 minutes to get home.

Later on that night, Ben decided he was going to meet some old hiking friends at a bar. He apparently belongs to this hiking club and hasn’t seen these people since the Halloween party. It didn’t sound like he was into hiking much but liked their parties. So we head out, trying to get there before 10pm to beat the cover charge.

We arrive in a major touristic night life section of town that reminded me of Time Square in New York City. It had one corner building all lit up like it was daytime, with lots of jumbo-tron adverts and a TKTS building selling Broadway type tickets. We walked around for about 20 minutes trying to find a bar that Ben was not sure the name was. He called a friend there but it was so noisy that the friend couldn’t talk. 10 minutes later we find the bar which was named On Anon and yep, they wanted a £10 note from each of us for a cover charge. We walked into this place and the decibel level is about 100db. And if that wasn’t loud enough, when you attempted any meaningful conversation, they shouting in your ear raised it another 10 db. This place was crazy; it has 3 floors, 9 bars and 3 different DJs. It also holds 1,500 people and probably had around 1,300 there that night.

All the girls came swooning over to me (...well okay...not all the girls, only about 6 or so) and we trying to communicate about nothing. Then this chic comes up to me and wants me to buy a shot off her. I politely decline. Then she persists, and persists, and gives me those “Puss n Boots” eyes and says, “Why not?” ‘Cause I don’t drink alcohol...why not...because I don’t...why not...because I don’t want to...please just for me...no...how come...because I work with alcoholics and run a shelter and I do it to support them. “Oh...will you buy me a shot then?” Sure, so out comes a £5 note in which I received £2 back. We toast my cranberry juice to her “shot”.

I left Ben with his friends for a while and cased the joint. It was pretty loud with a lot of dancing going on. I came back and we eventually left with our ears and livers still in tack. I think Ben was pleased that he could show me a night on the town, but I think he would have rather shown Denise the town than me. I like Ben but I would have rather been with Denise too.

So that was enough adventure for a Friday.