This post will tell you a little about my first visit to London and how it became a part of me, how i have never left it behind, how the numerous visits in the meantime have made me feel home, even though i have lived in Cheshire for my short 21 years. How when i look at London i dont just see the 'multi cultural', 'diverse' and 'bustling' (The very finest use of buzz words) rush of the noughties, i see the streets that Ronald and Reginald Kray once walked, where as you sleep the world carries on beneath you, where ol' cotney geezers used to parade the streets in flat-caps with horse's and cart's, where women would scrub their front door, blissfully un-aware that they would be immortalised through photographs and stories of hard work, toil and sweat. The fond memories of yesteryear, when you knew your neighbourgh. I digress, lets crack on with the task in hand shall we?Well, as this is my very first post i felt i should make it a little serious, as opposed to a soundboard for me to complain about how peole find 'Fink' perfectly acceptable.
Id not long split up with a girl, who i wasnt exactly in a relationship with. A sort of 'We are together, but not officially' relationship. The weeks were passing by and for some peculiar reason i discovered that sitting around moping and feeling sorry for myself didnt seem to change anything? How getting home from work, showering and getting in bed didnt feel like the 'Best years of your life' you cant wait for in your teenage years. For some time now, girls and relationships aside i felt a void inside of me that can only be described as a 'Where do i belong?'. Im quite sure im not alone in this feeling. After some deep pondering, or day dreaming at work (choose for yourself ) i decided i need a change, and a change i was going to have!
After days of trawling through the best google had to offer of 'Cheap hotels in Rome' 'Rome flights for £9.99!' and likewise sites i was in a sad state of confusion (with a hint of still feeling sorry for myself). I eventually found a package to Rome that seemed to suit me nicely for around £380, brilliant, now all i need to do is save the remaining £370! So that was that, at 20 years old Danny was going to Rome alone to 'find himself' My apologies on the use of such an awful expression.
After a few weeks saving i had accumulated a hard earned £350 and was chomping at the bit on payday to get home and book book book! This was all going to plan as i collected my wage packet, said Ciao to my family i work with and made my way through the mundane, thursday night bore-athon that is traffic. I arrived at my Nans' where i was planning on using her laptop to book my Italian adventure, quickly checking my hotmail as i do everytime i log on. 'Hotels in London' The subject read. Pfft, why would i want to see London when im going to Rome?! London is in England, i live in England, its not going to be that different down there i ignorantly chuckled to myself. Go on then, il see your 'amazing offers' Marlin Apartments (How they got my email address still baffles me, fate?) Canary wharf and Docklands apartment specials. "Oh how convenient, they have special offers on" i thought. Actually, thats quite a good offer......
Now my mind is upside down. The vision of Rome being the mighty, majestic, beautiful city, full of stylish people and fascinating landmarks has been on my mind for some time now, but the history of the Isle of Dogs, of the British Monarchy and the landmarks in Britain actually look 'Alright'. Never one to crash in to things i was a little apprehensive as i spent the immediate next ten minutes selecting, booking and paying for my first trip away on my own, my first trip, to London.
The days leading up to London are now a blur of paranoia and excitement. Am i going to be mugged in this big bad city? I cant wait to see big ben! Is it going to be crammed? Will i get bored?. The train arrives for my journey at Crewe train station at 12:39 on Friday, i need to get there making a short stop at Sandbach for around 20 past 12, so because im the organised type i will get there early. 12:32 exactly reads the clock on my phone as im stood, at Sandbach train station. In the space of half an hour i had smoked through 6 cigarettes and called myself a stupid fool (in maybe more choice words) more times than i care to remember. With a sense of bravado i told the girl i was texting (my partner now) via text message, ah whatever love, im not fussed, il get there somehow! its all good. A few 'stupid sods' and cigarettes later the train arrives. I vividly remember the Conductors face, his smug 'missed your train havent you' look, as i boarded and paid the ticket inspector for the Sandbach to Crewe ticket id misplaced. What a start, ive missed my train, im sweating and looking flustered and ive got bits of paper and maps everywhere, not quite the cool casual window open train journey i originally envisaged. I walked in to the Virgin trains office at Crewe with my pride swallowed a long time ago, to meet a smiling blonde lady with heavy red lipstick and an infectious smile, could this be the start of things looking up? "Dont worry lovey, happens all the time, usually its the business men and women though" The nice lady laughed, the next train was in 10 minutes and unbeknown to me id booked an open travel ticket for the day. Thank you god, allah, Ja, jesus, superman, whoever it was that day that saved me, thank you. After carefully slatting my bag in the holding area i was sat down and with a mix of nerves and excitement, i was on my way, to London. Finally. By now I had pre-arranged to meet up with a friend i knew from my area, who moved back down south a few months previous on the Saturday at Victoria station for a few hours and we were gonna hang and wander around London for a while, maybe visiting the Absolute ice bar.
I arrived at London Euston around 3:45 on the Friday afternoon and was immediately enthralled by the business, for something i thought would be a problem i was suprised how suitcases, briefcases and coat tails danced around the floor in a blur as i stood, grounded, not knowing where to turn. I looked at the tube and being a newbie decided against it, il just nip outside for a cigarette and go from there. Seeing the buses rolling in and out i thought brilliant! Just like where i live it will be a simple 'Here to Westminster please driver!', oh how wrong i was. All of a sudden im not greeted with the familiar 'Northwich - Crewe every ten past the hour' im used to, im met with diagrams, numbers, times and posts and not the slightest clue of where i need to go. Brilliant. Standing outside Euston station at 20 years old, with the buildings and people around me seemingly dwarfing me (im practically 6 foot) i realise the true insignificance i carry through my life, how i really am an incredibly small fish in a big pond, perhaps even a tadpole.
After paying for my £2 bus ticket i asked a driver who had parked up for a minute, 'scuse me bud, where do i go for Oxford street please?' Over there. Oh, thats that then, short and un-sweet. When i reach Oxford street i jump off case in hand and immediately check my belongings, to make sure the invisible pick pockets around hadnt half inched my phone, wallet or most importantly cigarettes. I see the different faces, each carrying a different story, some scowling, some smiling, some glum, some happy. I also saw a few gormless young un's like myself wandering around. After five or ten minutes im off, im braving it, my first ride on the tube. I find myself a quiet machine and select 'adult single to Zone 1 and 2' and pay my money, that was surprisingly easy, wheres the catch going to be on this jobby? i thought. I checked the board and found my way to Westminster, from where i caught the Jubilee line carriage to the Canary Wharf. Wow. I was shocked at how easy the tube system works, for such a complex system, it seems so consumer friendly. Very well done TFL. However, being from 'oop North', sitting on a carriage and not smiling/speaking to people felt very strange, or maybe im too friendly. When i get on the escalator i check my phone, it is Friday afternoon, 5:05pm, in the business district. I have never before seen so many different types of people, Fat, thin, tall, small, white, black, asian, young and old all in suits. It was like being at the biggest wedding i could imagine as i walked up to Canary wharf water feature for want of a better word, looking up amazed at the size of the buildings, the business kids chewing the weeks fat over cigarettes and bottles of Budweiser, looking across to the Gherkin i felt good, really good. I made my way to a shop near the City Pride pub and bought myself 8 cans of Carlsberg, 40 Lambert and butler silver, a packet of smoky bacon crisps and a bottle of Moet and Chandon. A car crash of a shopping bag! however class had long gone out of the window, its only 5:30 and im surrounded by fresh faced smart dressed people whilst im scruffy as you like even in my nice clothes looking bothered and flustered, whilst inside immensely relaxed. Sod it, im going to stand on my Balcony and toast my new found happiness with a glass of Champagne. I arrived at Marlin Apartments at about 5:45 and was greeted by the receptionist, unfourtanately in my utter ignorance i had interrupted her facebook conversation, so she wasnt very happy. She gave me a room card (I was still ancient mindedly waiting for a key) Told me she needed a deposit of £200 which wouldnt leave my account (it did) and had me sign my life away. At long last, i am in my room, i am relaxing with a cold beer, i am in London, i am happy. Happy beyond belief. I jumped in the shower and felt the hard water droplets hitting my back like a cement mixer firing out little liquid drops of gravel. Not the nicest feeling, however, when i donning my dressing gown and put my feet up, id never felt cleaner. I felt so new, it was unreal.
As i sat, drinking my beer watching the simpsons it dawned on me, i have worked hard and saved my money to do what id essentially be doing at home, watching the Simpsons on channel 4+1 and drinking a can of beer. No i thought, ive got a new thirst for life. Which i later realised was just a thirst, a thirst for beer. I put on my gladrags and walked down to the city pride pub, just down the road from the aparthotel i was staying in. On the way i noticed looking over towards the Gherkin and the city was a red sky and a sun shining brigfhtly on the Thames, After a few moments taking it in and a few pictures im off, in the pub, pint in hand and loving every minute of it.
Saturday morning and i awake, fully clothed and dry mouthed on the bed. Why oh why do i do this to myself? I feel rough as a dogs and i was planning a day out in the City, thats gone down the pan. I walked into the kitchen/lounge and clicked the kettle on. I walked out of the already open patio door and stood on my balcony having my routine cigarette and tea i have when i awake each morning. Around my feet was an array of empty cans, in the fridge i found id very responsibly shoved half a bottle of champagne in there, bleurgh. This is not the saturday morning plan i had in my head, plans are something which i usually follow quite anally. Id had my third brew and maybe 5th cigarette (I was up until 106 days ago a very heavy smoker) and decided time was time, it was 9 30 and this hangover wasnt shifting, i was showered dressed and groomed by quarter to and off i went on my first full day in London, walking past the city pride after a mere 18 hours or so i felt an overwhelming sense of adulthood, a sense of pride that yes i had done it, i was here alone and the big bad things i originally envisaged had disappeared. I felt like a Londoner, looking at passing cars and doing that thing you do when your familiar with somewhere of walking and seeing everything as everyday life, this is me, this is who i am. I got near one canada square and after a bit more pondering spotted a Hackney cab. How beautifully English, i must ride to London via cab, regardless of the fact i needed a tube ticket that day and the fact i was 100% competent and felt so casual using the tube. I asked the cabbie how much to Westminster? It was a glorious sunny day so i thought id take in a few sites and travel in the cliche of London transport and see what was around me. The cabbie said roughly £13/14 so in i hopped thinking whatever, ive got a few hundred pound saved and its all disposable. When he dropped me off opposite the south bank i thought that will do nicely, its not been a long journey, il give him £15 and he can keep the £2. This plan was again foiled when he told me how he took a way thats actually cost more, but could of been great. A great fact had his cab been a Delorean.I jumped out and the rumbles of my stomach and the headache that was being made worse by the amazing sunshine told me i needed something to eat and what better in London, hungover, than a fry up. Lovely. I had my sausage bacon and salmonella and my sugary tea, for some reason talking to the guy behind the counter about my job (gas man) he ignored my request for 2 sugars and gave me the 'tradesmens 5'. A rare treat but nonetheless it was nice to interact with somebody so humble and friendly, a real down to earth geezer if you will.
After traipsing around for a few hours and marvelling at the beauty of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, the grandeur of Westminster Abbey and the charm of smiling asian tourists happily snapping away, i noticed that the groggy hungover feeling had disappeared, i was no longer hungover? I wouldnt put it down to the tea or fry up, i think the excitement had taken over i was in my element, this continued happiness in comparison from the previous weeks of depression and stress was one of the most relieving feelings i have ever experienced, only one thing could make it better, football. Shit! The football! in my hazed mind i was having too much fun not thinking about the fact it was nearly half past one and my beloved team were playing in the Manchester derby, i scurried down the tube station and jumped on board to Victoria planning on finding a pub nearby whilst i wait for my friend. As it happened i spotted a sports bar up some steps at Victoria station, however being a big derby match on a Saturday afternoon the place was packed. Id made my way to the bar and before i knew it half time was upon us. Id fired a text message to my friend which revealed that around 5 minutes after time her train would be in. Five minutes after, this all seemed to good to be true. Injury time came around and it was 0-0 with not much really happening, until the 93rd minute, Patrice Evra flew down the left flank, as the ball left his feet i knew something was about to happen, but when Paul Scholes leaped his body up, an smashed home a glorius header, that, i did not expect. Amid the boo's and the dismay without realising i jumped, i screamed and i shouted. Boy i shouted. It was around this time i noticed all the Chelsea fans stood not 3 metres away 10 maybe 15 of them, cue my exit to go and meet my friend.
Looking at the old walls of Victoria station as i met Kim (the friend) i saw through the diesel smoke, the pigeons and spikes and the dust and saw stories, the stories that are forever held in those walls of generations of people old and young meeting and greeting, how many years two lovers will of been locked in one an others arms saying their final tearful goodbyes, i find these places very strange how they can be so warming and comforting yet so depressing and painful. We made our way to Oxford street and went for a stroll around, stopping at a little pub and chatting for half an hour. 2 pints later and im starting to realise, 2 in the pub, 2 at Victoria, its only about 4 30 and im tipsy, smooth move brains. We decide on visiting the Absolute ice bar which we had highly anticipated, i believe it was in Mayfair. We arrive at the bar and queue up and pay the £12 entry fee, which includes a 'complimentary' vodka based drink. After putting on the big purple gown thats supposed to shield some of the cold we make our way down the stairs into the cramped little ice bar where me are met by an arrogant idiot of a waiter asking us 'What drink you want?' erm, what is there?! A little menu would work wonders, but lets not make things too simple. The contrast between the sub zero bar and the scorching sun we found outside was incredible, also testament to the fact we were quite tipsy now, time for some food.
At TGI Fridays i order a pint of beer and sit at the table pondering Burger and chips or something exotic, like Hawaiian pizza. Looking up at the picture of Jimmy Hendrix i remind myself how he lived and died in this city, the Who drumset that gave me fond memories of Quadrophenia i had the sudden thought where you first realise you are a bit drunk. Brilliant. I choose to go with the burger and chips and sink another few pints and for good measure, a few cocktails. After stuffing our faces we come outside to the bright lights of Picadilly circus, the Cola sign in all its beauty shining like a neon photograph. We hit a whetherspoons in Soho then end up in a bar in a hidden away side street near a peculiar little roundabout in 'main London' i was surprised at how quiet this place really was. Sat down inside i overheard a couple chatting to each other about my home county of Cheshire and drunkenly friendly enquire as to where they live, i then proceed to find out round the corner from where i lived nearly all my life and my family are good friends with them! It reminds you just how small the world really is. Later in the evening leaving Soho etc we come across a pub and go inside, maybe an hour later theyve set up a rope outside and opened the downstairs which turned out to be a nightclub, i was very shocked to see how many of these sort of places were around in London, but with property prices in the capital being what they are you need to utilise every inch of space. The rest of that night to me is gone, all i recall is dancing like an idiot through a drunken haze of aftershock, lazers and loud music, one of the best nights ive had out and all on spontaneity, brilliant. After Kim missing her train home, us spending a fortune and drinking far too much the night come to a close, the only slight proof of it happening is the little memories that come back to me now and again and the photographs on my camera, so Sunday morning, the 18th of April i awake, in my clothes, on the bed. Swine. I wander in the front room to see Kim sat dazed still half a sleep, laughing at how the night went so off the rails. A quick shower and a brew later and were off, we traipsed through to the tube station and jumped on towards Westminster, a somewhat silent journey however due to us both being incredibly hung over and with banging heads. We arrive at Westminster and i need the Northern Line, Kim needs the Victoria line. We share a quick hug and go our seperate ways, what a weekend. After what seemed an eternity of tube journeys and train journeys im daydreaming away when i hit Crewe. Remarkable. I call a friend who comes to grab me from the station and im off home, looking forward to bed, shower, then maybe a beer for good times sake.
Im dizzy, but not from being hungover, through the buzz that is London, the most beautifully dirty place where i feel at home, the place where i want to eventually move with my current girlfriend Leanne, and the place ive been numerous times since the first time around, as a matter of fact, im booking for New Years eve now.
Im tired, im broke and im hungover like hell, but i dont care, one of the best weekends of my life has come to an end and i feel a completely new, different and happy person. Thank you London, for the good times ive had and the memories ive made but mainly, mainly just for being London.
