Constructive criticism.

On Friday night as Mitch and I were cutting through Marble Arch subway (not the underground) where we passed two jakeys (hobos for my American readership) sharing a bottle of vodka and a bottle of lemonade discussing the issues of the day. As we walked past one remarked to the other: "My darling, what are you doing with him? What is she doing with him? Makes me sick. I mean, come on! What a waste!" in perhaps the finest cockney accent this side of Dick Van Dyke. At first I thought he was talking to somebody else, until it dawned on me that it was us he was referring to us! It hadn't occured to me until Mitch started laughing before then going through the various other stages of grief- anger, denial, depression. Thankfully she stopped short of acceptance, otherwise I'd have been in trouble. She was all for going back and giving the gentleman in question a sermon (the other grief stage of bargaining if you will) on why she was with me, but I managed to convince her otherwise. I found it very entertaining though. It's not often I get my physical appearance assessed so brutally by jakeys. I think with that level of constructive criticism London will be good for me right?