It felt like I had died and gone to gay hell as I stepped off the train at London Bridge. It was like a sceene from Shaguluf in the height of the school holidays.
Shellsuits and leg warmers like in the height of the era of Fame. Everywhere I looked there were hooped earings, signet rimgs, poodle perms that were more of a hair dont than a hair do. Everywhere there were prams. Prams with screaming bratz, prams of shopping, empty prams and prams that seemed to do nothing more than support fat people. There is nothing I could think could spoil a holiday than a resort full of children. Worse still a resort full of teenagers that didnt want to be there.
I decided to take the tube to escape the tourists. Maybe the gym will revive me?
Reminded me of why we choose to stay somewhere adult only or gay only when we went on holiday. Thus the reason we dont travel between the six weeks of the summer holidays and the reason I have never been on a package tour since I turned 18.
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