Hanging with Iggy, London one year on.

Already we've been in the UK for four days not including Friday when we arrived in the evening. It's lovely to travel with Iggy and has been an absolute delight to see Oscar and Jasper in the flesh. The boys are so similar to my babies when they were small. Travelling with a teen is interesting. It's about this age that teens need social interaction with their peer group and Iggy is already missing this. He spent the entire day at a publishers office bored to death and sleepy, feeling quite lonely and out of it. 'I hate your work face' he tells me, furious at his wasted day as I drag him to the British museum in a huge taxi, little amuses him and London is not his favourite place. He's wrong, London's wild, he just doesn't know it yet. 

What he does know, now, is that mummy is good at her job, and she's bossy there 

as well as home; the British love to queue, like REALLY LOVE IT, and sometimes a castle is not really a castle, and a cave is not really a cave, no matter how much you pretend. 

He seems to adore the multitude of accents, and when the British are on THEY ARE ON, but they can be so rude, and you can say that of any group of people anywhere, and if your going to apply sweeping generalisations in an attempt to be an amateur anthropologist then keep them nice.