A London Walks Zinger

Date post added: 20th June 2022

Mostly we don’t – we try to keep to the straight and narrow of formal, business-like, etc. – but just occasionally we show our true colours. Happened this morning. In the following reply. Happened, I think, because we’re run so ragged at the moment I went over the edge. Just so you know, we have been known to reply to our customers in the following register:

Dear Fred,

I’m the 4 o’clock “area orientation” guide. My cell is 07595 xxx xxx. But I assure you – barring a world catastrophe – I will be there in plenty of time. Am going down a couple of hours early to block it out, figure out what of a two hour walk I can squeeze into a 60 minute window that includes a return to your hotel. And you’ll have to work flat out hard to miss me (it has happened, some people have been so desperate to avoid me they’ve burrowed in under skirt boards, cowered behind curtains, hidden under receptionists’ desks, dove for any convenient cover. But I almost always, in best Canadian Royal Mounties fashion, “get my man”). I’m Texas size and will be topped to the north with a seriously big Fedora (cheer up, it could be worse – could be a Bicorne or a Capotain – must stop now, I’m giving myself ideas, always dangerous, that).

See ya later.



David Tucker

David Tucker

David – the Seigneur of this favoured realm – broods over words, breeds enthusiasms and is “unmanageable.”* He’s a balterer, literary historian, university lecturer, journalist, logophile and lifelong thanatophobe. For good measure, he’s the doyen of London guides.

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