Let The Wild Rumpus Begin!

I wish I could say that we have all taken our turn embarrassing the group, but it seems that none of us possesses much of a sense of propriety.

I knew the trip was going to be interesting when Mom was seated on the plane next to a charming (but married) gentleman with the darling English accent, causing no small amount of blushing and eyelash batting. When breakfast was served (it was a red-eye flight, pervert!) she even helped him open his bag of dried fruit - with her teeth.

Tart!

After a stop at Alex's apartment to catch our breath, we headed to the local market for lunch (sourdough pizza, y'all!!!) and then headed for Trafalgar Square. As soon as we emerged from the tube station I heard the strains of a lone bagpipe and had to find the source so I could share it with Greg, my wannabe Scotsman. Can't seem to share it here, though.

There were quite a few people up on top of the monument, having their picture taken

with the lions, and while I am not exactly a nimble minx, I have the tenacity of an orangutan reaching for the last piece of ripe fruit at the end of a limb. And all the grace....









But determination has its rewards.

After a little wandering we ran across a lovely Italian restaurant, Fumo, that Alex hadn't tried yet, so...well the wine bottles in the window were so enticing...

We had to wait 1/2 hour for a table, but as we were adding our name to the list, a well dressed gentleman came out and said "well worth the wait!", so we were all in.

Turns out this was an Italian tapas restaurant. And it was, absolutely, worth the wait!

Gnocchi with gorgonzola and cream sauce, scallops, mussels with arrabiata sauce, mixed olives, lobster risotto, accompanied by a glass of Montepulciano d'abruzzo - molto bene!

And then came the moment when Alex announced that the ceiling light fixtures reminded her of buttholes.

Yeah, we're all pretty well matched, I'd say.