I’ve been to the bit smoke, and observed the fickle face of fashion …
I’ve been a bit absent lately, again, but that would because nothing particularly interesting happened to me. I mean, I’ve only just come back from London, having found myself on the NUT float, chatted to the president, meet loads of new people, went snowboarding, fell over a lot, bought some really nice new clothes and started writing another novel. Came up with some great new ideas and started to put some of my novels into play form. So not much really. Oh, and I joined a gym.
So where to start? I made a few observations about London, especially since I visited a few areas that I haven’t been before. Back in the 90s, I lived in London - I went to university there and stayed for a few years afterwards. It’s funny, parts of have changed enormously and some never changes. It’s not as if the Tower of London is ever going to go away; which I would love to visit if it wasn’t for the £30 price tag.
After spending the morning on a float at the Pride festival, where I got a bit of a soaking on the open topped bus, helped my musical pal while she sang to the crowds and indulged in a bit of procession dancing, I went to meet a date on Leicester Square. Yes, another one. I said to meet outside of All Bar One, which I’ve been going to since I worked for a PR agency back in the late 90s. It even appears in The Ghost Hunters’ Club, when Linda has the disastrous date with Stewart. Which actually happened, fact fans. Imagine my chagrin when I arrived for the date on time, but the bar is a pile of rubble. What next, Buckingham chuffing Palace?
Well, my date arrived and I managed to find him in the crowds, and for once, he didn’t behave like a cretin and we had some great drinks out in Shoreditch and Hoxton. He told me he was going to London Zoo the next day but I made my own study of a species that inhabits this achingly trendy area of North East London. The hipster. Yes, the achingly hip skinny dude who walks around in a check shirt, skinny jeans with the obligatory facial hair. I felt so out of place, I did wonder if I should don a false beard myself. They of the artisan bread that costs nearly a fiver and who works in the media or creative arts industry. It’s the cocktails that made me laugh. In a jam jar. Yes, I know it’s so trendy to have a mojito in a glass jar that used to have marmalade in it, but please, can I have my cocktail in a proper glass, with sloped sides and a stem? I know it’s a bit 80s and I promise I do recycle, I just don’t need to drink my expensive alcohol/tea/diet coke from something that has a lip designed to make me spill my drink everywhere.
Fashions come and fashions go, but in the words of Samual Johnson, if a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. The city always manages to create something new and interesting for me, just like I can always think of a new story to write. This time, it’s a medieval road trip that’s got a working title of ‘Albright and Ingleby.’ More on that soon!