It was probably my own fault. No it was definitely my own fault. I should have known better than to head home through Soho on the Saturday night before St. Patrick's Day and after some rugby match involving Ireland and England. The streets of Soho crowded and lively and boisterous and rowdy.
I've never wondered where the expression piss drunk comes from, and after Saturday I never will. Set up along the street were - how to describe them? - stand-up stalls. Not the portable loos you see near construction sites or at big events in the park. Imagine a corner, a ninety degree angle. Now imagine that four of these are arranged together around a central post, to form a single unit. Now imagine four men pissing into these corners, naturally with no door and you'll laugh at my even mentioning it but no way to wash your hands. Now imagine several of these horror machines set up in a row on the street.
I thought of taking a picture, but I'm glad I didn't. This is one memory that I'm hoping will fade.
In recovery,
BB
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3 comments:
Phew, glad I missed that rather pleasant sight!
they're supposed to stop them pissing in the street/on people. the worst time to walk through soho is on a saturday/sunday morning at about 8am. I don't even want to describe the overpowering smell but it's a mixture of all the bodily fluids/waste products and rotten old food...
PH / LIB - Indeed! Humanity can invent sewers and indoor plumbing, but not the will to use it! This w/e I'm staying away from Soho! BB
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