Gambling for Tots

After a day battling crowds at Oxford Street (woo-hoo Topshop) and the national gallery, I decided nothing could be really be better than drunkenly hurling balls at far away targets. After Jim and Tessa returned from work we headed off to the neighborhood ten pin/American bowling alley (which apparently means that there are other, far more English, numbers of pins to be bowling with, but I digress). I am so shit-poor at bowling, and several pints of Strongbow, my new favorite thing in the whole wide world, seemed to do nothing to help the situation. However the night did elicit one of my favorite new British discoveries. Anyone can gamble on slot machines (calling all apple-cheeked children) as long as the machines are “low-stakes”. Apparently if there is only a quid or two on the line, slots are considered an all-ages affair. Color me incredulous, but this means that acceptable high school pursuits include gambling, screwing (the age of consent is 16 here), smoking (16 as well) as well as drinking, (18 but spottily enforced). Poor kids. Where would the fun be without all the sneaking around?