London
I got to London (where I was met with miserable weather, of course) on Thursday evening and made my way to my aunt Anna's swish apartment in the affluent Notting Hill, on the hip Portobello Rd, across the road from the famous Electric cinema, restaurant and bar. She and her boyfriend Eric took me out for a curry and a pint and then back to the apartment to drink (home being the only place you can drink in London after about 11pm). It was awesome catching up with Anna.
The next day the weather was, shockingly, fantastic, and would remain so till the day I left. Eric kicked my arse at chess and taught me some openings.
Anna had been offered four tickets, with a total value of £100, to a play called Vegemite Tales and generously offered two to Nick and I. It was pretty funny, and it's been very successful, which isn't surprising given the massive audience there is for a play about Australians living in London.
After the play finished Anna and Eric went home and Nick and I met up with Dhondy and Thush, both of whom it was awesome to see again. We got a couple of drinks somewhere, then London closed. We wandered around for a bit, contemplating lining up for one of the clubs that stay open till 3am, but eventually Nick, Dhondy and I decided to hop on a bus to Camden where we could get some bud. We chilled out by the canal for a while, and walked quite a distance through some parks, and chilled out some more.
On Saturday, Nick and I went to Camden market. This has to be one of the coolest places in the world. I wish I'd gone there before the end of my trip so that I could have afforded to buy some of the fucking sick goth, rock and rave clothes. A pair of New Rock boots would have been awesome. I did get a Thundercats t-shirt, though. And a hair cut. After over a year of living with my poorly cut mohawk, it's no longer embarrassingly thin at the back and unbearably so on my crown.
That night I went to the apartment that Kalan, Adrian and Andria were sharing, and where Nick was staying. Kalan was miserably sick with glandular fever. We smoked a joint and watched A Knight's Tale.
On Sunday we convened at Speaker's Corner, where every Sunday people will bring a soapbox and speak about the evils of capitalism or white people or muslims or black people, or about any damn thing they want to talk about, and other people will come to listen to and argue with them. It's such an awesome place, and we need something like it here. I listened to a guy talking about Marxism for a while. It was a fitting thing to do before Nick and I caught a train out to Ipswich, where we met Rory and Silvia (the couple we'd met in Barcelona). We thought we were going to visit the famous Weed Shack and talk about the revolution, but instead we were driven half an hour into the countryside to the birthday party of a guy we didn't know, held in garage that had obviously been painted by it's teenaged occupants during past parties, gatherings and band rehearsals. It you've ever seen Blair's room, it looks like that.
We had a really good night. We had no booze because we didn't know we were going to a party, but we were supplied with a few cans of Fosters (they're always surprised to learn that Australians don't drink it) and some vodka, and we had toots. Toots are like bongs, only they don't have a shotty or a cone piece... you just stuff it in the stem, and you either leave half the smoke in the chamber or suck so hard you get bongwater in your mouth. Kinda quaint.
The night ended with the birthday boy coming back to the party from bed, in his boxers (this had been predicted early in the night), still bearing the backwards "J" that had been shaved into his chest, to try and break a pretty solid piece of wood over his head. Around 4am Sylvia drove five of us back to her house, where we got to chill out in the weed shack a bit before bed. Nick and I got to sleep a cool little spare room in the loft above the kitchen. We hung out for a bit in the morning before heading back to London.
This was around the time my chest pains started: stabbing pains along the bottom of my ribcage. I blame the London air, which is blatantly some of the shittest, smoggiest, most poisonous air in the world. Also: cigarettes. Nick was starting to feel a bit sick too, and we were both very worried that we'd be sick on the plane and wrecked and useless by the time we got home, which would have put quite a dampener on our welcome home party (the Alice: Nightmares in Wonderland afterparty). The final night before Nick and I left for home we said our goodbyes to Kalan, Adrian, Andria, Laura and Thush. We went to the pub for an authentic british pub meal, which was actually pretty decent, and a bunch of beers. I would occasionally have to stop in the middle of sentences and wait for the pain to subside. Fortunately Kalan was feeling a bit better and had the energy be her evil self for a few hours.
The goodbyes were extremely emotional.
The next day the weather was, shockingly, fantastic, and would remain so till the day I left. Eric kicked my arse at chess and taught me some openings.
Anna had been offered four tickets, with a total value of £100, to a play called Vegemite Tales and generously offered two to Nick and I. It was pretty funny, and it's been very successful, which isn't surprising given the massive audience there is for a play about Australians living in London.
After the play finished Anna and Eric went home and Nick and I met up with Dhondy and Thush, both of whom it was awesome to see again. We got a couple of drinks somewhere, then London closed. We wandered around for a bit, contemplating lining up for one of the clubs that stay open till 3am, but eventually Nick, Dhondy and I decided to hop on a bus to Camden where we could get some bud. We chilled out by the canal for a while, and walked quite a distance through some parks, and chilled out some more.
On Saturday, Nick and I went to Camden market. This has to be one of the coolest places in the world. I wish I'd gone there before the end of my trip so that I could have afforded to buy some of the fucking sick goth, rock and rave clothes. A pair of New Rock boots would have been awesome. I did get a Thundercats t-shirt, though. And a hair cut. After over a year of living with my poorly cut mohawk, it's no longer embarrassingly thin at the back and unbearably so on my crown.
That night I went to the apartment that Kalan, Adrian and Andria were sharing, and where Nick was staying. Kalan was miserably sick with glandular fever. We smoked a joint and watched A Knight's Tale.
On Sunday we convened at Speaker's Corner, where every Sunday people will bring a soapbox and speak about the evils of capitalism or white people or muslims or black people, or about any damn thing they want to talk about, and other people will come to listen to and argue with them. It's such an awesome place, and we need something like it here. I listened to a guy talking about Marxism for a while. It was a fitting thing to do before Nick and I caught a train out to Ipswich, where we met Rory and Silvia (the couple we'd met in Barcelona). We thought we were going to visit the famous Weed Shack and talk about the revolution, but instead we were driven half an hour into the countryside to the birthday party of a guy we didn't know, held in garage that had obviously been painted by it's teenaged occupants during past parties, gatherings and band rehearsals. It you've ever seen Blair's room, it looks like that.
We had a really good night. We had no booze because we didn't know we were going to a party, but we were supplied with a few cans of Fosters (they're always surprised to learn that Australians don't drink it) and some vodka, and we had toots. Toots are like bongs, only they don't have a shotty or a cone piece... you just stuff it in the stem, and you either leave half the smoke in the chamber or suck so hard you get bongwater in your mouth. Kinda quaint.
The night ended with the birthday boy coming back to the party from bed, in his boxers (this had been predicted early in the night), still bearing the backwards "J" that had been shaved into his chest, to try and break a pretty solid piece of wood over his head. Around 4am Sylvia drove five of us back to her house, where we got to chill out in the weed shack a bit before bed. Nick and I got to sleep a cool little spare room in the loft above the kitchen. We hung out for a bit in the morning before heading back to London.
This was around the time my chest pains started: stabbing pains along the bottom of my ribcage. I blame the London air, which is blatantly some of the shittest, smoggiest, most poisonous air in the world. Also: cigarettes. Nick was starting to feel a bit sick too, and we were both very worried that we'd be sick on the plane and wrecked and useless by the time we got home, which would have put quite a dampener on our welcome home party (the Alice: Nightmares in Wonderland afterparty). The final night before Nick and I left for home we said our goodbyes to Kalan, Adrian, Andria, Laura and Thush. We went to the pub for an authentic british pub meal, which was actually pretty decent, and a bunch of beers. I would occasionally have to stop in the middle of sentences and wait for the pain to subside. Fortunately Kalan was feeling a bit better and had the energy be her evil self for a few hours.
The goodbyes were extremely emotional.
posted by Nick Tresco at 4:29 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home