subway & mustafa

The trans-continental, and I would even venture to say universal, sameness of the odor of Subway sandwich shops should raise suspicions of alien-produced plastic 'food' product (either that, or a government experimental conspiracy). It is an assault on the senses and makes my stomach turn every time I walk past. You try to hold your breathe, but the olfactory reach of those baking molecules is pretty pervasive to at least 1000 feet either side of the shop (because of course the wind changes as soon as you walk past to allow the smell to follow you). Helene is the only other person in my acquaintance who shares my disgust for the wafting smell. Am quite disappointed in British culture at large for allowing this travesty to thrive.

Additionally, it would be great if random people from Turkey or Afghanistan or Saudi Arabia would stop requesting me to be their authorised friend on Skype. I am not a character from The Lion King, and so do not wish to talk to people who are.

Bird flu is approaching.

On a positive note: am going to Denmark in three and a half weeks! Hoorah! Am quite proud of travel search skills. (Now begins the three-week stretch where constant worry about missing busses and planes takes over my psyche and causes me to grind my teeth in my sleep.)