![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringA pleasant surprise yestermorn when I explained my mission to my roommates, preparing for their day of sightseeing.
“Yeah, we’ve done most of them.” Clark said. “Hey Mark, we’ve done, what, three quarters of the Monopoly streets?”
I listen with interest. These two youngsters are part of a group who play Monopoly. “We get out the game, have a few beers. It’s all very competitive.”
“High finance,” grins Clark. “Here, we’ve taken photographs.”
He pulls out his digital camera and scrolls through a tourist montage. Changing the Guard, Tower Bridge. And the odd street sign. Oxford Street. The Strand. Whitehall. “Here’s another, no, sorry, it’s just Downing Street.”
Prime Minister Tony Blair has just called a general election, but he takes second place to a board game. Fair enough. Monopoly belongs to the ages, and if Tony Blair is unlikely to be tossed out by the voters on his triple nickel election date, he cannot last for decades.
“Old Kent Road.” I say. “It’s the only one on the south side of the river.”
I show them my map and they point out the streets they have “done”.
“Look, there’s Fenchurch Street!” Mark exclaims. I get the feeling that I am not the only pilgrim in this city.
“Yeah, we’ve done most of them.” Clark said. “Hey Mark, we’ve done, what, three quarters of the Monopoly streets?”
I listen with interest. These two youngsters are part of a group who play Monopoly. “We get out the game, have a few beers. It’s all very competitive.”
“High finance,” grins Clark. “Here, we’ve taken photographs.”
He pulls out his digital camera and scrolls through a tourist montage. Changing the Guard, Tower Bridge. And the odd street sign. Oxford Street. The Strand. Whitehall. “Here’s another, no, sorry, it’s just Downing Street.”
Prime Minister Tony Blair has just called a general election, but he takes second place to a board game. Fair enough. Monopoly belongs to the ages, and if Tony Blair is unlikely to be tossed out by the voters on his triple nickel election date, he cannot last for decades.
“Old Kent Road.” I say. “It’s the only one on the south side of the river.”
I show them my map and they point out the streets they have “done”.
“Look, there’s Fenchurch Street!” Mark exclaims. I get the feeling that I am not the only pilgrim in this city.
