The Voice of London Episode XVI

As I write this I'm sheltering myself in a little corner outside the London Aquarium. The rain has picked up a bit, but the wind keeps this corner relatively dry. I'm damp anyway because I was walking around earlier when the rain was coming down harder. I'm more or less determined to suffer through it so I have good position to film the fireworks. I hope everyone's appreciative of it because with hardly anyone replying with requests for gifts/souvenirs it's probably going to be all they get. Well, even if they're not it can't make much difference to me. I'll have suffered either way.
Earlier this evening I stopped to check out the Maple Leaf Pub because it was on my way down to the river. I had a pint of Sleeman's Honey Brown, which is the first Canadian beer I've had in over three months. It was a little pricey but worth it. Hockey Night in Canada was on the telly (obviously not live, but still) and I caught the third period of the Vancouver-Edmonton game. I also saw the recap of Ottawa's overtime win against Toronto. Not a high scoring game but it looked like it was pretty exciting. I had a pint of Greene King and then took off. Hockey was over and it was getting crowded. I grabbed a slice of pizza up near Leicester Square and headed south.
I spent a lot of time waiting for the fireworks. At nine o'clock they closed off the south bank of the river to the public. I moved myself to Westminster Bridge and took up a position about the midway point, against the rail. And I waited. Stood there for three bloody hours. By the end my knees were killing me. It was, however, all worth it to obtain the fifteen minutes of footage of the most impressive pyrotechnics display that I've had the privilege to witness. And it's really in the witnessing that the spectacle can truly be appreciated. Watching a recorded playback does give some sense of the grandiosity, but it can only pale in comparison to firsthand experience. I can't say (especially after hearing of the lacklustre celebrations evidently typifying Winnipeg's transition into the new year) that I regret being here rather than there. Of course, the companionship of old friends would undoubtedly have made the festivities that much better and was sorely missed.
However, I was cheered somewhat today by the arrival of a postcard from Brad in which he referred to me as "beer drinking, wise-cracking, [and] Simpsons watching." I don't think ever been described as "wise-cracking" but I duly accept the characterization.

Wise-crackingly yours,
Matthew Hawkins