Burbank and I spent the next couple hours wandering the mall. I bought a t-shirt at the French Connection that says FCUK on the front. Burbank rolled his eyes at me, but I can’t help think it’s funny—I’m American.
We took a walk along the canal. Burbank practically fell it in at one point when a bicyclist whizzed by him. They should really require bikers to have bells. Anyway, Burbank’s trouser leg only got wet up to the calf. I do hope he didn’t get any parasites from that water. It looks awfully chowdery.
We met up with Lenore at 5 p.m. at the Oxford Circus Pizza Express. This is not the sort of pizza I’m used to in America. I ordered the ham/asparagus/egg pizza thinking I’d get pizza with squares of ham, slices of asparagus, and bits of scrambled egg evenly strewn over a bed of cheese and sauce. The cheese and sauce was right anyway. What I got instead was four stalks of asparagus making a square around a fried egg on a slab of raw pork. When Burbank saw my expression, he laughed so hard, he had tears streaming down his face. I think it was the highlight of his day.
Dude that actually looks really good.
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