On my way to see a flat I walk up Abbey Road, a totally nondescript suburb of nowhere. On a pishing wet Sunday there are literally queues of people on either side of the famous crossing, waiting to stand astride it and get photos. Local drivers honk horns and curse. People in wax jackets hang about nervously giggling, as though John Lennon might at any moment claw his elbows free of the asphalt and give them an autograph.
The walls near the studio itself are covered with tawdry ink missives. I heart beatles.
Later, I go to meet my cousin Jo in a nondescript pub on Columbia Road. Busy but atmospheric. Unruly hair. Scarves and chunky glasses. Gay guys in tight shirts. Ex-Eastenders actress and pals, unnoticed. The realisation comes that these are the same pubs that your TV heroes go to. Pegg, Ayoade, Lee, Herring, Mitchell, Webb. Exciting (given that you know the right places to go).
The next day, I committed that most heinous, schoolboy error: I came out into central London without my mini A-Z. At night. Among crowds of equally lost people. In the end I had to hire a rickshaw to get me to the cinema in time for Pan's Labyrinth.
The thing I miss having most is my toy compass. Useful in well-laid-out New York, absolutely vital in London's insane sprawl. I got the plastic gem – functional, amazingly – in exchange for ten (normally worthless) tickets at Coney Island, after playing Skee Ball with Caitlin. I wish I had ten more just like it.
01-Dec-06 at 12:07 am | Permalink
Celebs in pubs. Pubs in general:
The Wasington, Belsize Park (Next to Starbucks. Adorable place. Perfect for a first date..)
The Camden Lock Tavern, Camden Rd (Owned by Sara Cox’s Mister. One of the most rakishly cool bars i’ve ever visited. Relatively well-kept secret)
That Russian Cafe in Primrose Hill – You cant miss it.
Celeb mecca. All of em. Spied everyone from Angelina Jolie to Carl Barat, to Billie Piper (Actually V. Hot) and that Jeremy thingy with the dog from Hollyoaks. Ooh and Elton John, and Rhona Cameron, and and.. Celeb spotting is vacuous fun.
01-Dec-06 at 8:27 pm | Permalink
Oh no! what happened to the treasured compass? I think about it often, and now wish I had my own to help navigate me trough the streets of Brooklyn. This summer I will try to win hundreds of compasses before they close of Coney Island’s original Astroland.
01-Dec-06 at 9:17 pm | Permalink
> Celebs in pubs
This website used to be good.
01-Dec-06 at 9:59 pm | Permalink
> treasured compass
It’s safe at home in Edinburgh! I’m going home to pick it up (and some other less useful stuff) tomorrow : )
> website used to be good
Ha ha haaaaaaaaa
04-Dec-06 at 3:33 pm | Permalink
Celeb spotting – pah! I went ghost hunting this weekend – sadly found no ghosts. Richard from work is really into this stuff and we (technical guys + me from sales) decided he should initiate us to these pagan practices. So on Saturday night we all meet at the Goblin’Ha hotel in Gifford (40 minutes south of Edinburgh). Richard’s girlfriend doesn’t turn up because she’s had a premonition he would die. Nonetheless, armed with torches and all of us wearing stolen factory wellies, we go trundling through muddy forest pathways, across a river, up a mound and finally reach the ruins of Gifford castle. Richard tells me a magician cast a spell on the townsfolk, turned them into goblins and made them build the castle – I ask him what the official history book version is, but he claims there is none. We go through an archway, down a small passageway (I manage to add a genuine rip to my otherwise designer ripped jeans by getting caught on the gate) and out into a vault where we set up camp. Stayed there for about two hours, drinking tea, eating chocolate and intermittently calling out to ghosts to come make contact. Nothing happened, but I have a photograph of an orb, John and Stuart saw a shadow at the window, Richard saw a face at the window, and Mark possibly was a zombie in disguise as the electromagnetic thingamy could not detect any brain activity there. We then gave up, trundled back to the car, which was by far the scariest bit, and drove back to Gifford. Richard left us sceptics at this point, no doubt to go reassure his girlfriend and update his website on our nightly activities (www.tombdust.co.uk), while we all went for a pint at the local pub. An interesting night by all means.
05-Dec-06 at 1:42 am | Permalink
I went seeking out the dead this weekend myself. Your researche sounds more exciting though.
27-Apr-07 at 11:00 am | Permalink
This morning I had to drop off samples at our packaging designer whose office is on route to work via the A1. I got there with 30 minutes to kill as I’d been over pessimistic about traffic congestion on the bypass, so I went for a walk on the beach. It got me thinking that when I’m in London I can forget about the luxury of nipping down to the beach before the day’s work starts. And I can forget about being called a funny lass, and being told obscure Scottish sayings by my workmate John. By the way, today’s was “Don’t cast a clout, till May’s out” it’s not that obscure of course, but he said it in the broadest Border’s accent so it took me about 5 minutes to decipher.
I’m not having second thoughts, but I am going to miss Scotland.
08-Jun-07 at 11:57 am | Permalink
London tales continued by nat:
On Monday Scott and I made our way down from Edinburgh to London, and arrived tired and stiff but happy at my aunt Viv’s who was ready for us with G&T’s in hand. Viv, in reality is my godmother, however since I fell out with god i now call her my aunt. So anyway we arrived, were drunk on G&T’s within an hour, and copious amounts of food went down our throats before we were allowed to collapse into bed. Poor Scott had to get up at six to bring the van back and get to work, I did nothing all of Tuesday.
Wednesday, Viv asked if I’d be interested in volunteering at the Surbiton Trophy, which is really practicing grounds for grand slam players before Wimbledon. I have no interest whatsoever in tennis, but you know why not? I immediately regretted this on arrival, somehow I was hoping other volunteers would be young, rich, handsome tennis players – not so, the only people from Viv’s club who volunteer on such events are the above 60. It figures really, only the above 60 have nothing better to do on a Wednesday. Thankfully, I was able to escape after a few hours to meet Scott for drinks. You can’t imagine how glad I was to hear his Scottish accent, and to get another insight into London life. We met at Euston station, walked towards Embankment, stopped at Gordon’s wine bar, crossed the bridge, checked out the imax, walked along the river and ended up at Waga Mama’s near the Globe Theatre, famished.
I can’t seem to get used to people speaking in an English accent around me, it feels strange, i dinae like it. The water is incredibly hard too, there is this perpetual film on my tea, i dinae like that either. I find myself missing Scotland in bizarre ways, so I bought Scottish water, heather honey and oatcakes from Waitrose yesterday to make up for the loss.
I notice, no one has commented quite as much as I have on this post, nor to such lenghths. I feel quite stalkish…
09-Jun-07 at 2:50 pm | Permalink
>I can’t seem to get used to people speaking in an English accent around me, it feels strange, i dinae like it.
That’s funny, cos I don’t really notice the difference. I’m surrounded by English accents all of the time here (including yours while you were still here).
09-Jun-07 at 2:51 pm | Permalink
>I feel quite stalkish…
lol!!
10-Jun-07 at 11:46 am | Permalink
Gordon’s Wine Bar – That is BIZARRE! Gordon’s was my first London pub visit, long before I moved there. Bit of a hot date with a girl called Jenny who looked a lot like a moomin. Cute place. The lady who owns it couldn’t be more Eastenders if she tried. It made me smile.