Who would have believed that another year has passed and that Aude is another year older? Although she likes to remind me that she’s still in her twenties, I like to remind her that she’s on borrowed time, and that before long, we’ll need to introduce ourselves as a couple in our thirties.

To celebrate the occasion, we had a party at Fusion, the new bar around the corner. We got really lucky and had the bar more or less to ourselves — and with the clocks going back this weekend, we got an extra hour of partying time!

Matthew smoking a shisha

We’re not smoking marijuana. Honestly. Aude just gets excited very easily.

Gino making a grand entrance

Jiri

Anne Marie, Jiri’s girlfriend

You’ve got to keep a close eye on Aude. Lose your concentration for one second and another man is kissing her…

Vinka

Clearly a very happy girl, despite her advancing years. This sort of giddiness is characteristic of old age senility

More old age senility. Neil, at his great age, is already further down the path than the rest of us.

Neil and Anne-Laure looking very “Sex in the City”

A face for radio…

Aude and Darren

Aude, Jerome and Ivano

Lina

Matthew has a bit of a reputation with his camera. This is the reaction it normally provokes. What you can’t hear is Lina saying “would you please put that f*cking camera away?”

Alcohol + salsa lessons = who leads whom?

Our gatecrasher. This guy came in, ordered a full bottle of champagne for himself, and drank it in the middle of our otherwise private room. A particularly stylish touch was his shirt and tie, cut from exactly the same material. I’ve seen this look twice this week — I pray to God this isn’t the new fashion!

We had a great time at the party, but the reality of old age hit us hard this morning. We all had the heads that we deserved — including Aude, which was a real surprise!

Anyone who has ever travelled on the Tube will know that the British famously travel in silence. Never mind the fact that the Tube train is absolutely full, you’d be able to hear a pin drop over the soft rustle of the newspapers and hushed shuffling of feet.

Travelling on the train is much the same – the vast majority of people on the train are regular commuters, reading their newspapers, working on documents, or checking their e-mail on their Blackberries. Those who travel together may chat quietly, but they’re always aware of those around them. Occasionally mobile phones ring, met with a roll of the eyes from other passengers, but generally callers have moved beyond shouting “I’M ON THE TRAIN…THE TRAIN!” and keep their conversations quiet and short.

I say “generally” because there’s always an exception to every rule. Avid readers of my blog will have already been introduced to Ms Squeaky, the woman who loves to chat on her mobile phone for the entire commute each day. For those who are interested, it appears that she’s now back with her boyfriend, though they’re on shaky ground. But that’s not important – what’s important is that this woman breaks the unspoken rules of silent travel, day after day.

An Englishman is characterised by his endless patience and his stiff upper lip. He’s raised on a lifetime of “mustn’t grumble” and silently and stoically endures the worst that life throws at him.

But every man, even an Englishman, has his breaking point. And when one of his inviolable rules has been broken, he lashes out.

And so it was on my train this morning.

The tension has been building up for several days. One passenger has been exchanging frustrated glances with another. Comments muttered under one’s breath. A collective sigh of relief as we all stepped off the train.

This morning, though, one of our number snapped. After Ms Squeaky made her third phone call of the morning, the gent sitting next to her pointed out just how inconsiderate her phoning was. This was met with cheers from the other passengers. Backed into a corner, Ms Squeaky became defensive and proceeded to assert her “rights” to telephone, and began to call our chap all manner of colourful names. She threatened to make a complaint to the railways authority. She demanded that he stop taking her seat on the train. And she demanded that he stop taking the train all together, as he was too annoying to bear.

It all got ugly very quickly.

I, on the other hand, reverted to that other stalwart of Englishness. I spent the next 40 minutes studying a Powerpoint slide and avoiding eye contact with anyone else.

I’m no fool. The safest place in any battle is beneath the parapet!

I had some time to kill in the evening before dinner, so I took the opportunity to take a couple of photos of the area around my office. Many of the buildings here are part of the Norman Foster-designed More London complex. Here is the official website.

A view of Tower Bridge and London’s City Hall at sunset

The Ernst & Young headquarters building on More London Place

Ernst & Young headquarters building, as seen from the embankment

London’s City Hall

The Tower of London, as seen from the South Bank

Buildings on More London Place

Buildings on More London Place

Tower Bridge at sunset

I’ve got a training course tomorrow morning that they’ve insisted on starting at 8:30am, which is too early for the first train. It’s a mixed blessing, though — it means I can grab a drink with Jerome tonight, and it means that I get a chance to stay in the brand new Hilton next to my office which just opened this week.

My first impressions are that it’s a great property — very well located, with a modern interior style that feels a little like a ‘W’ without the pretention. If you’ve ever stayed at the Hilton Trafalgar, you’d feel right at home here. They’re very much cut from the same cloth, and I think that my sentiment is shifting: I think that Hilton have created a better “mass boutique” hotel than Starwood.

The Hilton opens onto both Tooley Street and More London Place. This is the Tooley Street entrance.

The More London Place entrance

My room on the 8th floor

Main lobby and bar area

More private lounge area off the main lounge

I think the hotel looks great inside — they’ve got the decor just right, and it feels modern without feeling overdesigned. But then I would say that — apparently, I’m one of a whole generation that spends too much time in hotels, therefore idealising the principles of design and recreating them at home. The Invasion of the Suites maintains that relentless business travel has turned hotel chic into an ideal, says The Times.

A few more pictures of Canterbury:

The Blind Dog pub, one of our local haunts in Canterbury

Sitting in front of the pub, could this actually be the Blind Dog? He was certainly the Deaf Dog, as he seemed to take no notice of me snapping his picture.

Apparently, loose women are nothing new to Canterbury.

Always the sign of a good neighbourhood.

Another excuse to take my new lens out for a test drive — a walk around Canterbury to take photos of some of the buildings around here. At least it will give everyone a feel for where I live, if you haven’t been here yourself.