Hello and welcome back to Mortgage Advisor on FIRE.
This is the delayed post that should have gone live on August 13th. It’s a lengthy one.
London
We had a very early start on Friday morning as we had a coach at 07:45. The pick-up point is only a few minutes walk from our apartment, and as we didn’t have a lot of luggage, we decided to walk rather than get a cab. We don’t generally like travelling on the coach but rail travel in this country is unreasonably expensive. Return tickets on the train were costing around £200, whereas the coach was approximately £40. Anyway, it was an uneventful journey to London for the most part. The best bit was when we stopped for a comfort break at some service station and saw a couple of HGV drivers having a proper feast under their truck.
We stopped at a Portuguese restaurant called Casa do Frango when we arrived in London. The starters were very good; Iberico pork croquettes, grilled chorizo with black olive mayo, chargrilled hispi cabbage, sourdough bread with olives, beans, carrots, and butter. For the main, we had piri-piri chicken with fries. The main was gross and we hardly touched it. The waiter asked if there was anything wrong with the food, and we just mentioned that it wasn’t to our taste. We enjoyed the starters but the main just didn’t taste good for us. The guy then went on a long-winded explanation of how the chicken was brought from South Africa, and how the piri sauce was brought from Portugal, and I didn’t care. I mean, what did he think was going to happen? Was I suddenly going to state it actually tasted good because of where it came from? I didn’t want money off or anything; it just wasn’t to our taste.
One thing I hate when dining out is paying the bill, or more specifically waiting for the bill. We asked for our bill and waited ten minutes. No one seemed to want to bring the bill over, so we asked again and waited some more. When the bill was eventually brought out, it was wrong. So, we had to get their attention again and ask for the bill to be corrected, and we waited some more. Eventually, we stood up and started walking to the exit, thinking it would help speed things up. It didn’t. The correct bill was brought out, and I can only assume the bill was also brought from South Africa with how long it took. We paid and left.
We took the underground to the hotel and dropped off our luggage. The hotel was not good. It was smelly and filthy. However, we were hardly going to be spending any time there, so it wasn’t a big deal. At this point, my foot was in constant pain. A few days prior the fourth toe on my left foot started hurting, and I think it was infected. It had been gradually getting more painful. By this point it was agony. I hobbled along, but was seriously worried about how the concert the next day would go.
We left the hotel and went to Leicester Square to see the Lego shop. On the way we stopped at Donutelier by Roladin, where I had a Yuzu Concorde with raspberry mint jam, chantilly cream, Yuzu lemon ganache, and toasted meringue. It was good, but probably not worth the £6.50 price.
The Lego shop had a long queue to get in, and we were both really thirsty. We decided to get a milkshake from McDonald’s (I hate McDonald’s but needs must…). We ordered a vanilla one each but we were given banana milkshakes. I went back inside with the drinks and the conversation went like this;
Me: Hi, we ordered vanilla milkshakes but these are banana.
McD: These are vanilla.
Me: They taste like banana.
McD: These are vanilla.
Me: … they taste like banana.
McD: These are vanilla.
Me: ……….. they taste like banana.
McD: These are…
Me: Yes, you think they’re vanilla but you’re welcome to taste them if you don’t believe me.
At this point, a manager came over who explained all the milkshakes come from the same machine and that some of the previous milkshakes could be served in the next one.
Gross.
We were given new drinks. Mine still tasted like banana and was binned. This is why I don’t go to McDonald’s.
I was excited to see the Lego shop in Leicester Square, as it’s recently undergone an extensive refurb. I’m not going to lie, it was a little disappointing. I would have liked to see more models on display and for it to feel less, well, tacky. We had a browse and picked up a gift for someone, and then left.
By this point, my foot was in considerable pain, and we were both feeling a little tired and grumpy. We made our way to Kensington Gardens and saw the Prince Albert Memorial, which is impressive in person. We sat for a little whilst deciding what to do, and then made our way to the nearest underground station before arriving in Piccadilly. We were hungry and stopped at an Italian restaurant, Cicchetti, where we had an amazing meal. We both agreed it was some of the best Italian food we’ve had outside of Italy. They serve food in a tapas style, with small plates being served as they’re ready, rather than a traditional style of starter, main, and dessert. We were so impressed that we booked for lunch on Sunday before we left.
We had a brief walk around the Tower Bridge area before heading back to the hotel for the night. I was seriously worried about not being able to go to the Kygo concert the following day as I was in so much pain, and I decided I’d try and find a Minor Injuries Unit or something in the morning.
Saturday
Oana went out to get coffee and croissants whilst I got ready. I’d found a walk-in medical centre online, but it was a lengthy journey across London. I was fearing a long wait in a crowded room but when I arrived, the clinic was empty. I had a short wait before being called in to see a nurse. She examined my foot but didn’t seem to pay much attention to what I was saying. She was insistent it was not infected and prescribed some sort of cream. I was sent on my way.
Across the courtyard from the clinic was a small pharmacy, and when I showed the prescription to the pharmacist (a lovely woman; the most competent and thorough pharmacist I’ve dealt with) she asked me some additional questions, like whether I’m diabetic, as well as asking to see my foot herself. She sent me back to the clinic with instructions to tell the nurse to give me something that would actually address the problem.
The receptionist at the clinic stated they would get someone else to see me, and I was soon called in by a different nurse. She agreed with the pharmacist that my toe was infected and that there was almost certainly some overgranulation, all of which was contributing to the pain I was in. Back to the pharmacy, I went.
The pharmacy, as I mentioned, was small. As I was walking towards the door I could hear raised voices inside. An older woman was having a full-on argument with one of the pharmacy workers. It was clear that the customer was just being an asshole, so I stood back and watched as the worker got increasingly pissed off, and then just went “nope” and walked in the back. The long and short of it; the customer wanted some prescription drugs without a prescription. That’s not going to happen. I had a nice chat with the pharmacist and the workers, and we all had a laugh together.
It was a relief to get sorted at the health centre even though it would take some time for the meds to kick in. I was given some advice about how to best protect the injury, and I wore different trainers for the rest of the day which helped.
Food
We didn’t have much joy with food on Saturday. We stopped by a vegetarian Indian restaurant which had good reviews. The food was not good. For those who don’t know, Oana and I were in India in 2020, just before Covid got serious. The food there was unrelentingly awful; just overcooked vegetable mush. This restaurant took me back there, and I wasn’t happy. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some amazing Indian food and it’s one of my favourite cuisines. That particular trip was awful though, and this food seemed to come out of the same recipe book.
We left that restaurant and stumbled across a pancake place. I like pancakes. I wanted pancakes. We stopped for pancakes. We sat at an empty table and scanned the QR code for the menu, and although it recognised our table it would not let us order. Eventually, a waiter came over and took our order; a simple pancake with vanilla ice cream for Oana, and two pancakes with strawberries, lemon zest, and house cream for me.
The food was vile. Imagine the pancake I’ve described, but that it’s been made with a strong blue cheese. No, I’m not kidding. The taste got right up in your sinuses just like a strong horse radish. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so gross, where the presentation (it was a pretty-looking plate of food) was so at odds with the taste. We spoke with the staff and explained what was wrong. They didn’t charge us anything, which is only fair as we had exactly one bite of each plate. It must be something in how they made their pancakes because both Oana’s and mine tasted the same.
My third attempt at having some lunch was at a Turkish place, and although it wasn’t anything flash it was tasty and comforting.
Kygo
Oh man, this was a long afternoon and evening for reasons that will become clear.
The concert was at Gunnersbury Park, which is about an hour or so from Tower Bridge. Fortunately, it’s just a single underground line that can take you most of the way, and then a fifteen-minute walk to the park. The event started at 2pm and there was a 10:30pm curfew, and with there being three support acts we figured we’d get there for 5pm/6pm-ish. There was a bit of faff getting into the event; the tickets were electronic and, because they were moving images, you couldn’t do a screenshot. You needed to be online to get them, but the internet was down in that area, and this caused a backlog as people scrambled to use Wi-Fi hotspots to try and get the tickets up to be scanned. Once we were in we found somewhere to stand as close to the stage as possible as MK was starting his set.
Kygo came on around 8:30pm and his set was fantastic. He does a lot of piano work and had various people coming out to sing or play violin, cello, and whatnot. It was a great time and a great atmosphere. The music isn’t my favourite type, and is probably not what I’d just listen to at home. However, the whole show, the staging, lighting, pyro, and atmosphere all came together for something special.
When the event finished at 10:30pm we made our first mistake.
Mistake #1 – Leaving via a different route to how we entered.
It ended up taking over half an hour to get back to the underground station. When we got there, we found out that the underground line we arrived on was no longer running, so we’d have to take an overground service and change along the way. We jumped on the first train and I started looking on Google Maps for the best route back to the hotel.
Mistake #2 – Trusting Google Maps
The app told us to leave the overground train at the next stop (I can’t remember which one), and so we did, as did many other passengers. However, once we got off the train it became clear this station was completely closed, the underground entrance was closed off, and there was nothing we could do. So, we jumped on another overground service and Google Maps told us to get off at West Brompton, where we could get another service taking us closer to Tower Bridge.
Mistake #3 – Missing West Brompton
We were so engrossed in planning our journey, that we missed West Brompton, only realising we were there as the train started pulling out of the station. So, we jumped off at the next stop, Chelsea Harbour. At this point, we were tired, cold, and grumpy. The words, “fuck it, let’s get an Uber” were uttered. So we tried booking an Uber, and a driver accepted the job, then pissed around a bit, and then cancelled the job. We’d waited over ten minutes for him to do this, and the double standards from Uber pisses me off. If we request an Uber and cancel, we get charged. What consequences are there for a driver doing the same?
Mistake #4 – Trusting Google Maps – Part 2
The app told us we could get off at West Brompton and get the District Line all the way to Tower Bridge. The District Line was not running. What now?
Mistake #5 – Trusting Uber Again
We tried to get another Uber but despite there being loads of drivers in the area, none were taking our request. We wasted another ten minutes trying to secure a cab before deciding to walk on a bit to see if any opportunities presented themselves. An underground worker told us that we could walk to Earl’s Court and get the Circle (I think) line closer to where we needed to be. The entrance to Earl’s Court station was closed when we arrived.
It was well after midnight, we were freezing (we’d gone to the concert in shorts and t-shirts not wanting to be burdened down with too much clothing), and hungry. We’d not eaten anything since before 3pm on Saturday, and it was now the early hours of Sunday morning. We were also in a lot of pain from standing, walking, dancing, and so on for hours. Our backs hurt, our knees hurt, and our feet hurt, and my infected wound was really painful.
As we stood around thinking about what to do, we noticed a small, handwritten sign stating there was another entrance to Earl’s Court station. It directed us to the left, and then to take the next right, and the next right again, so basically a loop around the block. It was a slow, painful, hobble around the block and we saw the bright, shining lights of a KFC that was still open. We had possibly the worst KFC we’ve ever had, but it was food we sorely needed. Then, we dragged ourselves to the station and found a running underground service.
From this point, the journey back was fairly simple. The underground took us to Tower Bridge, and then we had a fifteen-minute walk back to the hotel. Or, it would have been a fifteen-minute walk under normal circumstances.
We got back to the hotel and it was after 2am Sunday morning and I’d still not finished my blog for the week; hence my post stating it would be delayed. After hearing about my weekend, I hope you can understand why it was simply not possible for me to get the post done in time.
On Sunday we had booked to go to the Civilization exhibit at the Saatchi Gallery. I was excited about this, but it didn’t quite live up to expectations. First of all, the gallery was extremely hot. There was a thermostat in one of the rooms which showed the temperature was 26 degrees. It was hot, close, and gave me a bit of a headache. The exhibit itself was good, but not great. I felt like there could have been more positive images. The whole exhibit seemed very negative, and it was difficult to enjoy it. Maybe that was the point. Thinking about it, I’m now wondering if the temperature was a deliberate act for the exhibit; part of the experience?
Whilst we are on the subject of awful travel experiences, let me tell you briefly about our coach journey from London to Sheffield. We had a direct coach booked that would leave London at 16:00 and arrive in Sheffield at 20:00, before continuing to its final destination in Hull. However, as we were boarding the coach we were informed there was a change of plan. Due to driver illness, we would be taken to Milton Keynes before changing to a different coach for Sheffield. Fair enough, these things happen. We were told that someone would be waiting at Milton Keynes to help us when we arrived.
As the coach left London the guy sat behind me was constantly putting his hand on the top of my headrest. It was annoying. He would also use my headrest to pull himself up, causing my chair to be yanked back. I quickly grew tired of this and had a bit of a go at him. He apologised and did not touch my seat for the rest of the journey. It’s not fucking difficult to understand that you don’t fuck around with someone else’s seat whilst they are sitting in it.
Anyway, we got to Milton Keynes and we were instructed to leave the coach. There was no one around to tell us what was happening. Just as I was pulling up the phone number for National Express, the driver of the coach we just left told us all to get back on as he was now taking us to Leicester; a stop that was never part of the itinerary.
We boarded the coach again and made our way to Leicester, before leaving the coach and trying to work out what the hell we were supposed to do next. Someone came over and said that everyone for Sheffield and Hull should get on a different coach, and then the people for Hull would have to change again in Sheffield.
I get that illness happens. I’m not annoyed by that. I’m not even annoyed at having to change coaches. I’m annoyed that there was zero communication as this was all happening, and we were left to fend for ourselves. Oh, and I almost forgot the best bit; the replacement coaches didn’t have enough seats for all the passengers.
I sent a tweet to National Express, and to their credit they held their hands up and admitted that the organisation was extremely poor. They’ve since sent over a couple of voucher codes for free journeys, which is fine. Mistakes happen, and they’ve quickly owned their mistake and attempted to resolve it. Many companies could learn from this.
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2023 Goals
Click here to see my 2023 progress (opens a new tab).
What Am I Doing?
TV: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds
Audiobook: Very Bad People by Patrick Alley.
Financial Update
Assets
Premium Bonds: £10,300.00 (no change).
Stocks and Shares ISA: £58,432.25 (+£553.43).
Fuck It Fund: £6,000.00 (+£262.69).
Pensions: £61,359.73 (-£463.48).
Residential Property Value: £229,653.00 (no change).
BTL Property Value: £148,195.00 (no change).
Total Assets: £513,939.98 (+£352.64).
Debts
Credit Card: £0.00 (no change).
Loans: £0.00 (no change).
Residential Mortgage: £175,959.41 (no change).
BTL Mortgage: £104,967.51 (no change).
Total Debts: £280,926.92 (no change).
Total Wealth: £233,013.06 (+£352.64).
Investment Income in 2023: £4,993.14 (target £8,500).
I had planned on discussing a conversation I had around trading shares, but that can wait for the next post, so check back for that on Sunday as my blog returns to a normal schedule.
Disclaimer
The views and opinions in this blog are my own, and do not represent the views or opinions of my employer, nor should they be considered advice.
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