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

Street decorations in London

 'You haven't posted in ages,' you say accusingly.

YEAH I KNOW.

You see, this time of year is when elves like myself are traditionally overworked, while that fat lump of a Santa Claus gets all the credit.

So I'm going on strike until the New Year, to buck the trend.

Anyway. Here are the best street decorations around London. The one above is South Molton Street, which kind of looks like it's a Christmas tree as well as an archway into shameless consumerism. Cool.

 Meanwhile, New Bond Street thinks it's a peacock. Awesome.

And finally, Regent Street screams, 'Yes, we're sponsored. No, we don't even intend to watch the film, but they offered to pay for our lights, so, whatever.............'

Merry Christmas!

Elf Dryadalis

Christmas Trees of London 2014

It's time for another countdown. This time, of the Christmas Trees of London (oh, you already worked that out from the post title? Well, aren't you smart.). We start off, as ever, with the most visually offensive, aesthetically shocking and plain revolting, before gliding upwards to levels of sublime bliss. Sort of.

4. Fenwick

What. Is. This.

I mean, what is it?

It's like what happens when you feed a flock of pigeons a mixture of glitter and laxatives, then let them loose on a tree.

Tinsel overload, people. I appreciate the 45,673 hours it took to hang up all those little balls of Christmas spirit, but sometimes, when it comes to white baubles, less is more.

3. Trafalgar Square

Umm, okay, when I advocated 'Less is more', I didn't mean to more or less leave the tree plain! Honestly. You just can't win.

This homage to lights in straight lines looks utterly underwhelming, until you put it in context next to the National Gallery and the rest of the Square. Like this.

Ahh. That's cuter. And it looks even better at night.

Don't hate the blur, people. That's just enthusiastic camera shake. And trying not to get run over whilst taking the photo.

2. The British Library

It twinkles. It sparkles. It's so dark you can't even see the tree.

This is why fairy lights were invented. So you don't walk into a 10ft concoction of pine needles on your way to find the perfect book.

Here we have a lovely show of what happens when you carefully place fairy lights, but don't make it too obvious that you've stressed for half a year over precisely how to display the darn things. So it looks almost random, like you haven't stressed for half a year.

But people will know you've stressed for half a year. Because it doesn't look like you've stressed...........oh, you get what I mean.

1. Fortnum & Masons

'You filthy hypocrite', you cry, fingers pointed accusingly at the Fenwick/Fortnum tree similarities, 'This one looks like the pigeons have been smoking something illegal'.

Ah, yes. There are white baubles, fairy lights and a very fat tree. But alas, dear readers, notice the difference. This tree looks so inviting. The baubles are well-spaced out, so it doesn't look messy, and the fairy lights light up the background so the whole monstrosity, sorry, display, looks like a postcard picture.

The tree is inside Fornum and Masons, and it's free to look at. I emphasise this, because if you do go inside, thinking you'll look at the tree and then maybe pick up a gift or two, FORGET IT.

Unless, of course, you are a multi-millionaire, in which case donations are gladly accepted, with Elf's deepest gratitude. (If you don't wish to donate, please list your reasons for not doing so on the back of a £50 note and send it to me. I'll be sure to read each one very carefully).

Because everything here costs about a zillion pounds, even the chocolates. And the baubles aren't exactly cheap either.

At least it's free to look.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis