right then.
Lots of stuff on electrophysiology and cardiac mapping and re-entry circuits and the amusing story of the guy in the early 2oth century who was researching how to initiate cardiac conduction and VF in jellyfish and was found dead one day after trying out the electrodes on himself and successfully inducing VF and killed himself instantly. Funny in retrospect maybe.
Seeing as we’re in London it would seem rude not to meet up with a few of the folk we know. Though when you say you’re in London, it’s somewhat similar to saying you’re in Northern Ireland, it may still take as along as Antrim to Portadown to see them
I tend to let Gilly choose the restraunts and so on. He’s a bit of a London addict, and knows his way round pretty well. He took the three of us to china town to a restaurant that when he was in it last time he saw a mouse run out of the kitchen. I’m not sure how that was meant to endear it to us…
I first saw Les MIserables about 5 or 6 years ago, the last time I had a proper trip to London. And I was a bit blown away by it. The moment when the bishop hands him the rest of the silver – priceless. I forget very quickly how a live orchestra and a bunch of men in tights can move you so powerfully.
We’d got tickets for 25 quid – a bargain basement price – so much so that I figured we might actually be in the basement out of the place. So front row was a little bit of a surprise. Though it was so front row that we occasionally got spat upon by the singers when they were in full flow. They were so close Gilly felt obliged to offer them some Maltesers.
From there out into the centre of London on a friday night, with all the beutiful people in the world, out to live their lives and leave their mark. We sat in Starbucks and watched a young girl collapse from drinking too much (no doubt it’ll be “doctor my drink was spiked”, by the time she reaches A&E) – note we didn’t help we just sat drinking coffee, i figure we’re off-duty. That and waking down by the river watching the ignorant hoodied teenagers drinking “coke” out of bottles and smoking their dope on a bench in the rain. Can’t help thinking that some day they’ll wake up and think “so this is life then…” Your heart breaks for all the kids who think they have it all sorted. The adults too sometimes.
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