If you can look in the distance, you can see the Abbey, shrouded in damp drizzle. To get to it we have to traverse tat shops on this side of the valley, goth shops, trinketty shops and more tat shops on the other side (after crossing the harbour bridge) and then....
Up a, quite frankly, taking-the-piss amount of steps. It was the Pigeon Lady's idea to come up to the Abbey, but did she stop for five minutes and think of my little legs? No. I don't even have legs, just two feet on the bottom of my body. She didn't even offer me a ride in her pocket until i had a tantrum and pointed out that i was easy meat to a seagull. Easy meat, my friend!!
Got to the top of the steps, and sat down for a breather. It wasn't until I got my breath back that i realised that i was sitting on a gravestone, and that i would probably be cursed for using someones memorial as little more than a bench. Ooopsie. Didn't see any ghosts, which is probably for the best, as i don't think Victorian dead people would really be able to grasp what I'm about. They used to eat pigeon didn't they??? Victorian people, that is, not dead people.
Ah yes, finally reached the Abbey. The reason i look so shocked is because I had just seen a tourist wearing the most alarmingly coloured cagoule. Nothing to worry about. Then it was back down the steps and thankfully, to the chip shop!
Where is the food, where is the food where is it??? Warmed myself up with a nice cup of tea, and admired the salt and vinegar. After a while i went into a bit of a hunger induced trance, which accounts for the gazed look in my eye.