A Journey to the Heart of the Millenium Dream
Chapter 4 - Theres No Place like Dome
We crawled our way back out of the stygian abyss, with the help of an escalator, and exited at Greenwich. Maybe another ten people went from the station to the entrance to the dome. We did not belong among these families taking a break from the seaside holidays of past years. Keep smiling, maybe they won't notice.
The entrance area was either horribly, horribly over-specified or else, as seems more likely, it was designed to intimidate and disorientate hapless visitors. Waving my Temple ov thee Lemur Gold Card above my head as a consumerist talisman we attempted to find booths 27 to 32, non-cash sales. Keep smiling.
A little sweet-talking on our parts convinced the bored guardian that we were in fact mentally disabled students the combined discount reducing the twenty pound entry fee to a mere, affordable sixteen pounds and fifty pence. Keep smiling.
We make it inside. On every side is thinnly veiled marketing snapping at our forelobes, trying to disguise itself as family fun. We look for the bar.
"You sure there's a bar?" my consultant has no faith in humanity.
"Of course there's a damn bar. The website promised a great day out with many places to eat and drink. I clearly remember it talking of Bars. Plural."
A brief misunderstanding at a Salad Bar - it seems that they do not sell salad and beer but organic salad, organic sandwiches, organic orange juice and possibly organic mineral water.
We find a licenced vendor who sells 275ml bottles of dubious forign beer for more than a days wage in Estonia. We buy a carrot cake with each bottle to disuade the chap on the till from thinking that we're undesirables. Keep smiling and they won't suspect a thing.
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