Game of Thrones-esque wildlife

So. You're sitting in St James's Park, enjoying your ice cream and telling yourself that it doesn't break your diet rules because ice cream is, after all, mostly ice, and reading a novel of doubtful intellectual value.

Life is bliss.

UNTIL THE GIANT CROW COMES.

'Excuse me,' you splutter politely, 'is that a euphemism?'

Absolutely not, you disgusting elfling. It most certainly isn't.

You've been watching far too much Game of Thrones.

But anyway, if giant crows are your kind of thing, and you want to do what Bran Stark does without all the polar trekking, then go to St James's Park this instant, because with visitor number soaring due to the warm (in Britain, warm means anything above freezing point) means that there are plenty of tourists and lunchers merrily feeding these giant birds of doom.

You have been warned.

Till next time,

Elf Dryadalis

London's burning, London's burning......

 Ah, yea fellow elves, we are in mortal peril.

Last week, Kingsway (no, not a drunk monarch, the busy road in Central London) caught fire. Literally. There was a gas main underneath the road, which ignited when an electrical spark decided to escape.

Businesses were shut, libraries evacuated, and we saw some pretty cool fire engines out on the roads, looking butch.

The roads were full of official-looking people in bright jackets, either as a safety measure or a fashion statement.

So what did Londoners do whilst their lives were in potential peril?

They stood around and watched.

And took pictures (like your good elf here did).

And moved closer to the fire to check it out like it was the hottest thing since the last pavement fire.

The smoke was blowing all over the very centre of London - this is the view from outside the Royal Courts of Justice. It isn't fog, and those aren't all clouds.

The smell was like sulphur mixed with Uncle Elfard's farts. I was about to put a knitted scarf over my face to keep out the fumes before realising that I myself am knitted.

So convenient!

Oh, and by the way, the road's still closed.

Enjoy your journey.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

London's Heathrow Airport

I hate airports.

They're the places you go when your winged unicorn is sick, or your broomstick's broken, or your magic carpet's got holes.

When all these conventional methods of transportation are denied you, you go to the airport.

The airport is a sign of FAILURE.

And here I am, at London's Heathrow Airport, Terminal 5, since my unicorn went on strike for better working conditions and more glitter.

I've just gone through customs, which is a rather unpleasant experience. Basically, your human dumps their bag, coat and electronics, as well as you, into a plastic box, a bit like a school dinner tray with evil intentions, and shoves the whole thing through an x-ray machine.

So now some staff at Heathrow presumably know that I ate lembas for breakfast, am not carrying any weapons, and have a head full of wool.

And now I can chill out with my best gangsta pose by the shops. They sell an odd assortment of products, these shops. You can get a multipack of Kitkats, so you can stuff yourself throughout the flight, or a designer bag, in which to sleep in during the flight (so long as you're elf-sized).

There's free wi-fi, but it doesn't work. I wiggled my ears left, right and centre to try and pick up the signals, but no. Apparently the wi-fi is incompatible with elves.

And now for the ultimate indignity.

To get to some of the gates (mine was in section C), you have to get there via a transit train, a bit like a London Underground train with a very short track.

It was kind of busy, and my human was worried about me falling though the gap, so she picked me up.

She picked me up.

SHE PICKED ME UP!!!

No one tosses a dwarf, and no one picks up an elf.

The picture above is testimony to my suffering.

And finally, onto the plane. I travel economy. Now, everyone complains about the lack of legroom in economy, but quite frankly, I don't see what they're complaining about. As you can see, there is plenty of space to run around, play football and race a horse.

Once I went first class, and got lost somewhere between the armrest and the oxygen mask.

And the food included lobster, which is a type of gigantic monster twice the size of the average elf.

Oh no. Economy is great.

At this point during the flight, I decided it was high time for a skydive. Just look at those clouds! It would be like the ultimate trampoline.

But alas, I couldn't open the window. I should put in a complaint.

Anyway, when I get to my destination I think I might write a special series of posts from Abroad. Keep your eyes peeled, your seatbelts fastened and that bungee rope steady.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

Chinese New Year in Chinatown 2015

Happy Chinese New Year!

Oh, you're not Chinese?

Well, Happy Chinese New Year anyway! It means lots of food, celebrations and general well-mannered revelry.

You can't turn that down.

'Elf', you say quizzically, 'where is your beautiful face to adorn this blog post? Where were you in Chinatown?'

I was here. 5th row back, amongst the crowd.

Can you see me?

No?

How could you not?

Anyway. I think I have successfully made the point that Chinese New Year celebrations are extremely crowded.

Keep an eye on your elflings.

Or they might get eaten by these psychedelic fish.

Fish are associated in Chinese culture with wealth, so they're popular motifs even though it's not actually year of the fish or anything.

It's Year of the Sheep.

So here we have a giant duck.

And a phoenix.

And a dragon.

And some children.

Ah, here we go, a sheep!

'That's a ram,' you say, refering to your zoology textbooks in a haste, 'it can't be Year of the Sheep'.

Well let me tell you, o humans, that the basic word for sheep, ram and goat is the same in Chinese. So take your pick.

And if the argument gets too heated, here's the Fire Brigade station in Soho opening up its doors.

Ahh. A rest under the pagoda. Nice and shaded.

That's what the pagoda looks like from the outside, in case you were wondering. You weren't? Oh well. Indulge, my friends, indulge.

And when you're walking down the street, keep an eye out for the traditional lion dances - it's believed that they bring good fortune to businesses they visit. Businesses used to dangle a red envelope and lettuce (hey, veganism is the rage, even for lions, didn't you know), and the lion would shred it. I didn't see any businesses doing that this year though, since it's probably counted as littering now. That's a shame. You should see the mess elves make during our annual festivals of starlight. But anyway...............

A bonus picture - lion heads.

Not made from real lions.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

Forbidden Planet: not actually a planet.

So. It's way too early in the morning, and I'm standing outside a shop. Voluntarily.


Now, what are the likely reasons for such strange behaviour? Please choose the likely answer from below.

1. Kim Kardashian is inside, filming her latest attempt to break the internet.
2. It's raining outside, and inside looks dry.
3. Kim Kardashian is outside, filming her latest attempt to break the internet, and inside looks safe.
4. There's merchandise inside I want to buy.

Now, if it's 1. or 3. you selected, you have spent too long on the internet. Your cat needs feeding. Go to her now.

If it's 2. you selected, you have spent too long in London. Go home. Oh, London is your home? That's awkward.

If it's 4. you selected, you have spent too long on this blog. I love you. Please, never change.

So, this is Forbidden Planet on Shaftesbury Avenue, in Central London. It sells all kinds of movie merchandise, comic merchandise, TV merchandise..........you get the idea.

And their window displays entice you closer - but what I like is that they actually put the prices in the window display. Most shops don't. It's only until you walk in and realise that you have to sell your cat to afford anything (well, you never feed her anyway, you horrible specimen of Mordor) that you take a step back in horror and become all Gollum-like - 'We wants it, yessss, my preccccccccciiiiiiiiiiiiiouuuuuuuuuuuuussssssssss'. Most unfair.

With the prices in the window, you can do that outside.

And return after the sale of Mr Tibbles........

TO BUY ALL OF THIS.

So, I've always wanted a pet human, and I got one, and he's called Jaime Lannister. We're the same height! Isn't that great? I suggest that all elves get a pet human. The ones from Forbidden Planet tend to have difficulty thinking/getting outside the box for some reason, but you can't have everything!

The sword is to defend my homeland, conquer other peoples' homelands, and to, umm, open letters.

I even got a pack of cards. They say 'You win or you die' which I think is an excellent intimidation strategy against my opponent in Snap. The cards have the Jacks, Queens, Kings, Aces and Jokers emblazoned with pictures of the main characters. I love how Cersei is on both the Baratheon and Lannister cards, in a valiant attempt to avoid giving away spoilers.

Oh, and she's quite fit too. Don't tell Jaime I said that.

And finally, in case Jaime does find out and I have to make my escape, I have a travel pass holder to help me travel in style.

And in the worst case scenario, I can jump inside the sturdy plastic bag my purchases came in.

He'll never find me there.

See you later,

Elf Dryadalis

British Museum Part 1: Really Ancient Human Stuff

 If you were a dog, you'd be delighted.

'Why?' you ask, ears pricked up and tongue sticking out slightly.

Because, my four-legged friend, there are eight columns forming the main facade of the British Museum.

'So what does that mean?', you ask, tail now wagging in anticipation.

Well, you get so much choice as to which column to pee against!!!

Joy!!!

And with that, I welcome you to the British Museum.

PUT THAT DOWN. IT'S NOT A CHEW TOY.

These rather abstract, Henry Moore-esque figurines are not a new means to make playtimes more fun.

They're actually ancient - in fact, so ancient that the Powers That Be have seen fit to stick them behind a glass screen, just in case they see fit to walk out of the Museum, Freedom Passes in hand, and go on a 'Coffin Dodgers' Rampage'.

Talking of coffin dodgers, these figurines may well have lain in graves.

Or been decorations.

Or gifts.

Or offerings.

Or............well, the general explanation is that they are 'ritual objects', which is code for, 'I don't have a flaming clue'.

Elf's theory is that these are actually life-size models of elves, made when humans first discovered us.

Meanwhile, these rather imposing vases were made 3 million years ago, formed from star dust when the alien species Homo Sapiens crash-landed on the planet and took over.

Sort of.

Anyway, the point is, they're really old (this might be a theme in the British Museum..........) and have undergone restoration. You see the one to my left (your right, woof), which has an intricate pattern broken up by large plain areas?

The plain bits are because the original patterned sections have broken away and been lost. The excuse the restorers give is that a restorers shouldn't try to hide that an object has been restored, and besides, how the hell are they going to spend 13794 hours drawing in the patterns again?

Elf knows better. The plain areas actually had money-off coupons glued to them, which archaeologists cut out to save themselves money at the Cash 'n' C'Agora.

See what I did there? Don't all die of laughter at once, for my sake, please.

This dude has blatantly nicked my hairstyle.

I contacted lawyers, but they just laughed (and billed me for it).

So I took matters into my own hands.

Don't mess with Elf.

See you later,

Elf Dryadalis

Boxing Day Sales 2014

I'm sorry if I haven't been posting for rather a long time. I'm still recovering from the Boxing Day sales.

Uh-huh.

They were that exhausting.

If you're visiting my blog from abroad, firstly, welcome, and secondly, you might be wondering what on earth these 'Boxing Day sales' entail if they mean a three-week recovery period.

That, my friends, is what Boxing Day is about.

SALE.

Prices fall, shops discount their Christmas ranges (so you look at the gift set you got for Auntie Elfia and feel like you've been ripped off, and decide to get her present for next Christmas today), and shoppers crowd into spaces you didn't even know shoppers could crowd into.

Bluewater Shopping Centre in Kent was the destination of choice for thousands of humans and one elf.

Oh, and one seagull swooping in on the action.

And several ducks, a couple of swans............

PRACTICALLY EVERYONE.

Anyway. Back to the shopping.

With Accessorize selling, um, accessories at half price, I couldn't resist going in. Only to realise, of course, that what they sell as 'handbags' are for me, 'sleeping bags'.

If you're planning to go this year, make sure you get there early, since there are so many people jostling around. Otherwise it kind of turns into Game of Thrones.

Look, see? Houses Baratheon and Stark have already put up their banners.

*shudders*

I'm getting out of here.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis