oday, thanks to an adventurous Saturday evening, myself and Lis found ourselves in Wimbledon. Famous for tennis, poisonings and wombles. I saw none of each.
A curious place is Wimbledon, one of those areas of London I would describe as terrifyingly posh.
Waking up the suburban street of huge house and plush greenery and lots of small children with that nasty big American sitcom child basin cut, in their best GAP and Ralph Lauren clothes being forced to go to church. I could feel the looks as I walked through the town. Was this really only twenty minutes away from the London I know and love?
At one point about to cross a small road and instead of the normal car coming out, or even in this posh area a 4×4, but a fucking pony made itself known. A pony, this is not right.
The thing about Wimbledon is that it’s feels like it’s near a beach, I can’t explain why, but it’s so clean and sunny looking, that the sea must be nearby.
We went to Pizza Hut, must have been me wanting to show how unposh I was. I had the Ice cream factory, I now feel sick – when they say unlimited, they really don’t try to stop you. For this I am thankful.
I also stole a free kids toy, they were giving them out to all of the posh kids, who wouldn’t play with them, and yet there was me, desperate to see what the bit of blue plastic did and they wouldn’t give me one. So after the kids on the next table had gone, I stole it. It was a cheap tie-in to the movie Cody Banks 2, and it’s a magnifying glass, I love it like it’s my own.
Wimbledon is very tidy, but no wombles. It’s nice to see that even after all these years they still do their job and keep out of sight, and that fame hasn’t gotten to them (except Uncle Bulgaria who lives in a Opium Den in Thailand).
We had a discussion about how big they were, Lis thinking them to be rat sized, me remembering the 6ft ones on Top Of The Pops.