London Hotels
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*******THE LONDON BUMPER ISSUE*******
Entry 114 of 115 | show all | print this entry |
There is nothing quite as bizarre as being thrust in the thick of a fresh city in a completely different country, heading straight to the pub from the airport, drinking all night and waking up the next afternoon with limited comprehension about where it is you actually exist. I felt weird, weird, weird this arvo, but was comforted to know that i'd once again found meself on safe ground in Belsize Park, that familiar, leafy, money end of North London, and relished in the fact that i'd made it back, my last pitstop before jumping on a place back home to Melbourne. Crazy!
Thanks to some craftily juggled budgeting, my downward spiralling stockpile of cash had held up right to the last breath, though i now found myself on a serious shoestring in the 12 days leading up to the flight out of Heathrow. But with accomodation all sorted thanks to the wonderful Sarah, Johnny and Ben, i would be home and hosed on this home stretch, in thrifty 'chill' mode until that looming date of the 15th August.
At this precise moment in space-time, i'm lying on the couch at Sarah's apartment in Belsize Park, watching yet another dose of BBC Terror reporting on what i can and can't take with me on the plane tomorrow. I've just learned that the status of alert has been downgraded from 'Critical' to 'Severe', and consequently i'll be allowed to take both my Ipod and my book with me on board. The concept of being stuck at Kuala Lumpur airport for seven hours without these two items seemed most undesirable, and it couldn't have been better timing on the part of the British Air Authority. Anyway, being my final stretch of time, the days between the 3rd August and the 15th mostly encompassed a great deal of winding down, sitting about, writing songs and reading books - hardly decent enough material to match the thrilling, white-knuckle reads that you folk have no doubt become accustomed to over the past 110 blog entries. In light of this, and a desire to go out on a high note, i present to you the limited edition end of trip LONDON BUMPER ISSUE - a day by day digest of the last fortnight in London Town. Enjoy.
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Thurs 3rd Aug
As I mentioned, I was in cognitive disarray upon waking this afternoon, after arriving back from a Yuri night at the wee hours of the morning. Pottered around the apartment, got reacquainted with the cushy confines and the leafy digs, and bummed around in a semi-hungover daze. Rocked back over to Shebu and was struck by how different the place seemed in daylight and sobriety, before marching on to the 'Empire' - an enormous, lavish theatre and band room on par with the majesty of Melbourne's 'Forum'. Hung out with Yuri and his bandmates from the 'Ross Irwin Soul Special' and met up again with the feline imperialists from the 'Cat Empire'. Yuri initially ushered me into the backstage area under the guise of 'Tour Manager and Band Spiritual Advisor', but my role of enlightenment was pragmatically downgraded to 'Camera Dude'. The show was a rocker, and I enjoyed roaming backstage with a few beers on the house as I undertook my duties with video and digital cameras in hand. Met up again with Yuri's mate Erin and another Aussie named Damon, and after the gig, frequented the highly shady 'Walkabout' nightspot next door to the Empire. Think sports bar-cum-meat market-cum shady bogan pub just outside Kalgoorlie.
The Walkabout's specialty poison was the notorious 'Snakebite' - a vile concoction of half beer, half cider and a smattering of red cordial that is guaranteed to send you loopy and make the bird you're trying to pick up pass out in no time whatsoever. Not healthy. Somehow, the 'Walkabout' pretty much summed up everything that was wrong with 'Shebu', and though Yuri and Erin decided to continue on for another consecutive night with no sleep, I was still knackered and opted for the last tube train back north to Belsize, arriving back at the far more respectable hour of 1am.
Fri 4th Aug
'Twas the usual regime of pottering about on this fine day, and little more. I woke up late, somewhat adjusting and getting used to the idea that I was back in London yet again, and made myself at home in the apartment. Was thrilled to see that London was once again yielding some fantastic, sunny weather. Yuri was supporting Cat Empire again tonight at the SheBu Empire, and I managed to once again schmooze through for free, scoring a free double pass on the door, this time minus the requirement that I shoot pictures and take film of the band. Parked myself up the front and took in the entire show, and I gotta say I really enjoyed every last minute of it. I've always had a love hate relationship with the Cat Empire, always conceding without doubt that they were a superior band, but secretly somewhat envious at their accelerating upwards success. However, tonight I finally got over my jealousy, and lapped up the awesome show, particularly their cover to Paul Kelly's 'Dumb Things', which got me in a reflective, cheesy grin mood as I stood and daydreamed about my impending return to Oz in a matter of weeks. Hooked up with Yuri post-show and hit up a pub around the corner, which was light years of class ahead of the shady 'Walkabout', though it did contain the world's worst cover band. Drank some pints with Yuri and his mate Rob, and called an early one come midnight, traipsing the familiar line back to Shebu station, with a small part of me contemplating the real possibility that I could get mugged at any impending juncture. Back to Belsize, home and hosed.
Sat 5th Aug
The day was bright and glorious, and the hangovers non-existent, and what better way to seize the weekend, than by getting' down to 'Fruitstock', a well-patronized free festival down at Regent Park put on by a the 'Innocent' juice smoothie company on par with 'nudie juice' back home. Every man and his dog had come down for the good vibes and good times, and despite the claustrophobia, Sarah and I drank pints, ate fine foods, watched bands on the enormous stage rig, and baked ourselves in the sun. After two pints, I was feeling decidedly knackered from effects of the sun, and we left the sardined crowds behind come 5 o'clock, trekking back up the hills to Belsize Park for an arvo nana nap. Spruced up after the brief kip, tuned into some Back to the Future 2 action on cable, the bit where Doc and Marty try to thwart Biff Tannen back in the 1950's by leading him full pelt into that roadside trailer of manure, then headed around the corner to Sarah's mate Claire's joint and shared a meal and a few bevvoirs with Claire, another Aussie couple Davo and Renee, and Claire's workmate Rochelle. The night was thoroughly stimulating and choc to the brim with sparkling repartee, hanging out on Claire's rooftop terrace with a sterling vista of the London city skyline, and an imposing pink and amber sunset coming down behind us. Frequented the trendy 'Washington', the corner pub on the same road and enjoyed another couple of rounds, before calling a relatively early one, hightailing back 5 minutes away to the apartment, and taking in the last half hour of 'Lake Placid', a film whose title should probably be reworked and called 'Lake Shite'. A fine night indeedy.
Sun 6th Aug
Bugger me if the last number of days haven't blended into one extended blob of memory. I regret to inform the good reader that I have slim to no recollection of what occurred on this Sunday, which leads me to suggest that not much occurred at all. Most likely it would have been a late wake up, a little brekky, a little bit o' conversation, maybe even a brief trundle up to the Primrose Hill lookout point. But to be honest, I don't know, and I can't remember, and it's probably not that important anyway. I could make something up for you if you like.
Ahem.
Took a day trip to Paris, by way of Latvia. Hung 'round the Balkans for a number of hours, before hitting up Copenhagen, Oslo, a brief stint of skydiving over Interlaken, before swimming the length of the Channel and up the guts of the Thames via Canary Wharf, and stopping for a pint at every pub on the way back up to North London.
There you go.
Mon 7th Aug
Ahhh man. Monday. Yup.....
Probably going to have to make something else up. I do recall that I was ultra pleased to be able to just hang out, chill, do my own thing and proceed with the winding down process. Got stuck into my book at some point, went down to the Internet Café and pumped out a blog entry, and....NO....wait, I just checked my wallet and found evidence of a bus ticket purchased on the 7/8/06. Today, I figured I should see London properly, on the upper deck of a double decker red bus, so I took the route from Belsize Park all the way through the guts of the city in the direction of Old Kent Rd, getting off right before Waterloo. Singing a brief chorus of ABBA's 'Waterloo' quietly to myself, I trundled along London Southbank, once again to the London Eye area, the gothic as buggery Houses of parliament by the Thames, and eventually, past Big Tone's digs at Downing number 10 and the Queen's Bucking huge abode down at the end of the Mall. I was revisiting covered ground, but I kinda enjoyed this area 4 months ago with Rev and Brooks, and felt that it deserved at least another look. Hung out by the Strand and Trafalgar square, and saw that there was absolutely no room to build any houses, let along a bloody hotel, and that Monopoly was totally full of wind. I was glad, however, that I got off before Old Kent Rd, because, well, let's face it....it's the useless purple territory that no one wants.
Last time I was here I made a fair ruckus about the hilarious names of the London tube stations. Cockfosters was always a highlight for me, but I recently noticed another few which caught my eye - Kentish Town (not quite Kent, but....y'know....Kent-ish), Tooting Bec, Wapping (Whopping!), and the terribly elegant 'Mudchute'. Go London!
Tues 8th Aug
Last night I stayed up relatively late and fell asleep to some extent on the couch watching educational episodes of the BBC 'Planets' documentary series. I can now tell you how many moons Jupiter has, why Saturn has its' eerie belt of rings, and have gotten over my childish humour regarding the planet Uranus. Sarah was off to Barcelona today on business duties, and I pretty much just held the fort back home, chilling out in the glorious sunny London sun, hanging out up at Primrose Hill reading me book and writing some stuff, and probably further outlining depressions of my bum-groove in the lounge room couch. Watched a Bill Hicks DVD with Ben and chuckled over a few glasses of red, marveling at how accurate and relevant Hicks truly is, and how furiously raged at the world the bloke would be if he was still alive today. Called it a relatively early night tonight as I recall, and little more to say.
Wed 9th Aug
The day was spent in the now customary fashion of ultimate laziness and creativity, though I did indulge in a lengthy run around the surrounding neighbourhood, a run which would have been much shorter and less taxing had I kept track of where I was going and not got completely lost. But it was worth it. Trundled down to the ol' favourite shady pub 'The Steeles' and met Sarah for an after work dinner and drinks, and was joined by Claire who joined us for a chat and a bit of quality time. Threw down another round at the Washington, then hit up the apartment once more, staying up till the wee hours learning more about the trajectory and heliocentric orbits of the planets, before hitting the hay in the early morning
Thurs 10th Aug
The London weather has been starting to move back into its' old trademark bleakness, and I fear that the sunny times are over for now, which is a bit of shame. Still, it's probably a good thing that I re-adjust to some ugly weather now so that I won't be completely shellshocked when I walked through those sliding doors at Tullamarine and cop a nasty case of the brass monkeys. Whipped up some dinner tonight, possibly went for another jog at some juncture, and hung out with Sarah and Johnny a little later in the evening. Bought some bottles of Stella Artois, or 'Wifebeater', as they crudely call it over here in London, and sat on the couch, watched 'Rushmore' on DVD and knocked back the wifebeater in happiness.
Fri 11th Aug
I went a little too far with the fitness this morning, conducting an excessive jog along the canal to Camden lock, and feeling borderline knackered and wheezychested during the hours post-endorphins. It was a real bummer that I was beginning to feel sheizer, because I'd planned to sort out my costume today for Sarah's workmate's Hen's night tonight. The theme was 'C-grade Celebrities', and though countless invitees were allegedly dressing up as the king of C-grade, the 'Hoff, I'd conjured up the brilliant idea to buy a mullet wig and go as Richard Dean Anderson, aka Macgyver. Ahh, it would have been great, but alas, despite locating a suitable wig, I ended up wigging out of the gig and opting to have a quiet one to kick the onset of sickness. Drank a bottle of Hoegaarden to keep myself occupied, and chilled on the couch watching various DVDs from Johnny's extensive collection, before have a great chat and sharing some more wifebeater with the J-man upon his return back home in the later hours of the night.
I've noticed in the last day or so just how painfully repetitive and frustrating the BBC news stations are, what with the continual barrage of windbag analysis on the 'foiled terror plot' that Uk authorities managed to avert. Being the harsh skeptic that I am of the old 'terror' chestnut, I this story struck me as being a bit of public-mind-shaping shite sandwich to say the least, and was just happy that I wasn't traveling home yesterday, or in the next couple of days for that matter.
Sat 12th Aug
The old, grimy London weather is back for good it seems, which is a bit of a shame, because my tan is wearing off and I had high hopes that I'd go back home gleaming amongst a crew of pasty, natural light deficient Melbournites. Sarah arrived back at the apartment at around 2 in the arvo, claiming a highly successful night at the C-Grade Hen's do. Sarah sensibly went as Danni Minogue. Feeling a tad shite in the lungs and head still, I relegated myself to the couch and dining table, writing, reading, watching and lazing about. Johnny rocked back a little later in the evening and we shared a few Guinness Stouts, ice cream and enjoyed 'Kingpin' on DVD.
Sun 13th Aug
Hit up a quaint, charming, full o' character little pub in Camden called the 'Crown and Goose', and enjoyed a full roast lunch and Yorkshire Pudding with Johnny, and a round of Guinness for good measure. Hung out with the J-man for the better part of the afternoon and enjoyed each other's company, bussing it up through Kentish Town to Hampstead, and eventually checking out big Karl Marx's grave up at the Hampstead cemetery. It was pretty cool. The sun come out for us, which was a nice change, and we bussed it again back down to Camden for another pint, before he went off on his date, and I moseyed back up the hill to the apartment. It was another low key night, to say the least, and though the pints went down quite well at the time, I was again feeling considerably crapola.
Mon 14th Aug
My last full day in London town! Woke up still feeling a little bit shady, but generally back on the upwards swing. Found myself on the tube heading back into the Westminster area again today, on my one last attempt to grab some souvenirs and cheap gifts for the crew back home. Returned via Camden Town and the goth-heavy marketplace, then head back up to the apartment and got my gear in order. Only now has reality really hit me with force - tomorrow I head home, after four long months of amazingness. Wow.
Leapt back on the tube around 7, and hooked up with Sarah at a pub called the Phoenix not far from Victoria station. We met up with Loan and her workmates Ros, Ava, Lexi and Megan, and once again, to top off the trip, I found myself drinking with 6 women. What can I say? Story of my traveling life.
Well, the night elapsed, we drink till the pub kicked us out, and I walked back to the Victoria tube with Loan, as light rain came down from above. I looked up ahead at the 'London Victoria Station' sign, and again felt that sparkling, tingly feeling of wonder and amazement at where in the world I was, just I had done on those first few days this time four months ago. In a terribly reminiscing mood, I did my best to take everything in, one last time, the streets, the vibe, the tube and the stations. I'd gotten so used to this place, and now it was time to bid it all farewell, head back home, and plan my next move. Somehow, I just might be back here in good time. We shall see.
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