You can take the boys out of the Gravel Pit but you can't take the Gravel Pit out of the boys. Raise a chop to Gymkhana, the kind of Indian fusion that helped propel London out of the fish and chips era and into the top echelon of global foodie cities. You know, just like Mr. India propelled Palmerston North out of the Fishtown era.
Daddy, I like it when the restaurant comes to my room. I could get used to this whole work travel thing.
Enjoy it while it lasts, come March next year there won't be any baristas left who know how to craft a milky silver fern.
Make sure you raise the drawbridge before all those French regulations come swarming across.
That's the Thames Daddy? I just kind of assumed it was the Volga.
Let me tell you son, the food in the Shard may be overpriced but it's still better than the Tower. It's hard to eat with no neck.
Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the roundest of them all?
Borough Market is where you go when you're feeling a wee bit peckish.
Sun? In London? Tariffs on German weather must be part of the Brexit package.
Mommy, does baby sister live in a gold plated house too?
The mighty London Eye, the original wheel that started the Big Wheel craze. Luckily the Staten Island Eye seems to be hold, because once that's up you might as well shut down your Instagram account and go hang out with the grannies on Facebook.
Mommy, do you think this big wheel came from a monster truck?
Sand on the Thames!
Time to get down and dirty in one of the world's great nightlife capitals. Don't worry, the tube basically shuts at Ryan's bedtime anyway.
Yeah tell me about it son, the Empire clearly didn't design the thigh armor with the Cahan physique in mind.
Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper? Sorry, just had to be said.
Daddy, which pieces are the midiclorians?
Fast trains? That's just insidious trickery from those Continental bureaucrats. Bring back Steam and Glory. Bring back the Fat Controller. Bring back the Empire! No not that Empire, the one where New Zealand is the outer rim not Tatooine.
You can tell you're in Shoreditch because everything is a false front designed purely for Instagram.
Albert "The Rock" Einstein. That's the new summer blockbuster where Dwayne Johnson plays a cyborg Einstein who terrorizes London with his lethal relativity rays. The hairdo is CGI-ied, just in case you were wondering.
Vintage transistor radios and pixelated Star Wars lightsaber battles on an abandoned parking garage. That's like why they invented hashtags.
A rooftop pool in London? What is the world coming to?
There's something cool about swimming in the shadow of The City. Soon to be a lot less shady after all those bankers clear out their offices and head to Frankfurt.
Ok, Shoreditch has officially crossed the graffiti-street art inflection point.
Party like it's 1999. Oh wait, that would involve hauling four computers and 20 meters of CAT5 to an all-night LAN party.
Best go back to chasing Lara Croft with your joysticks, this isn't really working.
Hmmm... Daddy looks a little tired this morning even though I was a good boy and slept all night. I wonder?
Dishoom serves up an exceptional Bombay-Iranian breakfast, which must irritate those Brexiteers no end. Where's the black pudding?
My thoughts exactly when contemplating the upcoming seven hours over the Atlantic.
Sorry kiddo, those days are long gone. Keep right on walking. And walking. And walking. Until you get to 47F.
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