The Solo Tourist.

I can't believe I've been living and breathing London for over a week already.

It's been amazing having Jason off work since Christmas; making up five months of conversations, giggles and hugs is hard work, you know. But the luxury ended today, since he started work - leaving me five days of freedom before I start my own new teaching job. (I'm pretending it doesn't exist right now because I'm a trifle nervous.)

Instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I threw myself in the deep end again and decided to put on my 'solo tourist' hat and go for another wander around the town. I managed to get my way around locally, but this time it was all about the city.

(Looking back, Big Ben seems to be suspiciously lurking in a lot of today's pictures, I think I was being stalked by a huge ancient clock. Look for yourself!)

Today was a typically damp and dreary day, and I only saw the sun a few times. I started in Trafalgar Square, which looked decidely miserable today: construction workers everywhere, empty water fountains and a sad looking Christmas tree. There was hardly anyone there, which was a completely different experience to the last time I visited.

After wandering around aimlessly for a few minutes taking pictures, I decided to head towards Buckingham Palace. I love St James Park, it is very peaceful there despite the hundreds of people ambling around. Plus, it is home to chipmunky squirrel creatures!

Despite having been here before, I still got rather excited standing in front of Buckingham Palace. It's just one of those landmarks that you have got to experience. Being there makes me all giddy. And then puffed, because the road to get there? Is the longest road in the world, or at least it feels that way. (Yes, I am unfit.)

Being a solo traveller = being double jointed and taking one's own photographs.

(I told you it was grey and miserable!) I was in St James Park at the perfect time, it seemed. The changing of the guard was taking place as I was walking innocently along, so that's what all the people were hanging around for. Right! I knew that, of course.

After watching the guards for a short while, I decided to keep on walking around on foot rather than head back to the tube. I ended up at the beautiful Westminster Abbey.

And right across the street, my favourite building. Look kids, Big Ben! Parliament!

When I had finished snapping my obligatory tourist photos and was deciding where to go next, a guy bumped into me while standing at a pedestrian crossing. He apologised, and then asked if I was Danish. I shook my head and mumbled something incoherent, and he then proceeded to tell me that I looked like I was Danish, and did I have any Danish relatives? I said I was Australian as the lights changed and began to cross the road; the guy followed me, telling me he was French, lived in London and was heading to work. As I approached the tube station and went to walk down the stairs, he stopped me and asked if I would like to meet up for drinks later - to which I thanked him, but mentioned I was seeing someone. I then scurried to the station, and jumped onto a train.

Don't ask me why I was so weirded out by the casual invitiation: the guy was sweet about it all. It's just that I've not once, ever in my entire life, been asked out by anyone randomly before; let alone on a sidewalk. I suppose there is a first time for everything.

I just wasn't sure what to say: and I hope I ended the conversation the right way. What is the proper etiquette for declining a drinks invitation? Help!

Anyway, I ended up at Bond Street, where I grabbed a coffee and wandered around the street for a while. I walked for a bit and eventually realised I was standing on Oxford Street - again, that explains the crowds! Right! (I'm the worst tourist in the world.) I bought a couple of cheap shirts, and decided I was done for the day.

A little more wandering around Canary Wharf, a couple of grocery bags on the way home, and here I am sitting all squishy in my pink dressing gown/robe.

I still can't believe I'm really here, or that I'm brave enough to traipse around a foreign country on my own. One of my resolutions for 2008 was to stop worrying, and I think I'm making a bit of headway on that already. So what if I miss the tube? I can always just get on the next one. I'm here, I'm happy, and I'm damn proud of myself.