Posts tagged “london”
In 2000, a spotty kid in a tracksuit conned me out of my phone on a London train. I chased him down and got it back, but lost my faith in strangers. Last night, history seemed to repeat itself, until the kid handed the phone back. Faith restored.
London elected Boris Johnson as mayor while I was away. Mildly horrified, though it does mean fewer Schwarzenegger comparisons. At least Arnie ran a successful business.
Visiting London after 15 months away reminded me how much I love it, and how much I prefer California. Friends are thriving, I have an adorable new niece, and I'm no longer the family baby. But British weather, hair-frizzing humidity and sad water pressure sent me happily home to sunshine.
Visiting London for a week to see friends I haven't seen in 15 months, meet my new niece, and surprise a friend at their birthday party. Being back is weird. More on that later.
It's 3:30am after my leaving party, and London is finally sinking in. After nearly a decade, this city took a kid who makes things appear on screens and turned it into a life. Now I'm off to fool a whole new city. London's fingerprints are permanently under my skin.
Five things I plan to do by October 2007: fix this blog software, walk the Thames Path to Greenwich, visit the London Wetland Centre, see Evita and Chicago live, and have dinner at The Ivy. Also, I want a new job, but tomorrow would be preferable.
My housemate and I have been approved for a mortgage, and we're house-hunting between Clapham Common and Stockwell. We're knowingly paying more than rent for now, betting London property appreciation covers the difference. It's a gamble, and I got my data from housepricecrash.co.uk. But investments don't usually let you redecorate.
Walking down Old Compton Street gives me a rare, warm sense of belonging among people who share my sexuality and history. I wonder: is this what straight people feel everywhere, all the time? And if so, is one street's concentrated freedom worth being ghettoized everywhere else?
Wandered London, had pub lunch, played in the park, and took lots of photos -- many involving a can of Baked Beans.
Photographic treasure hunt in West London tomorrow, one spot left. Cute people get priority, sorry not sorry.
Power's out in central London. Hundreds of us sit here, useless without our machines. Browsing on borrowed wifi, twiddling thumbs, wondering if this counts as a valid reason to leave early.
I recognized my ex-housemate B from the bottom of a staircase at Leicester Square tube station, in the middle of a crowded platform. I recognized him by his ass. A skill I've apparently spent two years developing without realizing it.
Saw the Sultan's Elephant in London. It's here until Sunday, go see it. Also posted photos from my walk to work on Flickr.
The Tube is now officially unbearably hot. Summer has arrived.
A whale swam up the Thames. That was pretty cool. Then it died.
Too busy to blog, so here's an excerpt from an email describing our new flat: very 80s decor, pink bathroom, a carpet with a storied past, but good sized rooms, a dishwasher, and closer to the tube.
Found a flat with A on Albert Square -- cheap for zone 2 and near the tube. Downside: a 12-day gap between moving out and moving in means sofa surfing. Friends with spare space, speak up.
256 posts, two bombings, two vacations, one dream job at Yahoo, and a memory so bad I had to read my own blog to remember any of it. Net result: a pretty good year.
Went to the dentist and got three fillings, partly thanks to swapping booze for fizzy drinks. My teeth are a genetic disaster. Also: why isn't there a review site for doctors and dentists? Restaurants have them. Someone build this with me.
Jon Stewart is coming to London on the 11th. I've grabbed 4 tickets for the 7pm show, but they're all spoken for now. Call 0870 850 9176 to get your own.
A memorial night for Simon Hobart at Popstarz drew hundreds of people, celebrity DJs (Brett Anderson, Brian Molko, Siouxsie Sioux, Kele Okereke), walls of written tributes, free drinks, and nearly £10k raised for charity. Exactly how he would have wanted it.
Simon Hobart built spaces where people could be themselves, find community, and lose themselves in music and joy. That's not a small thing. The man who kept Popstarz open the night after 7/7, just because people needed somewhere to go, was genuinely great. He'll be missed.
My housemates T&J are DJing at Popstarz this Friday, 2-4am. Get there, bring everyone you know!
Only in London would there be a market for a company that holds your spare keys, because you don't trust your neighbours.
Saw an ad on the Piccadilly line: "New WKD Red. It's new and it's red. See what we did?" Refreshingly honest for an ad campaign. Reminds me of Matt. Also, loving my new camera.
Back in London, jet-lagged, with a dead computer. Turned out to be the power supply — fixed in 30 minutes by the local shop for an inflated price I'd happily pay again. An hour of my own jet-lagged poking around achieved nothing.
The birthday party was a success, leaving the house a wreck. Cleaning consumed my day. The highlight of some disobediently-brought presents: a gorgeous circa-1930 illustrated guide to London, satisfying my history, London, and book geekery simultaneously, complete with wonderful period photos and charmingly earnest advice on crossing busy streets.
Ken's new One London campaign has a great website and they actually encourage you to steal their logo. Love it.
Rough week has left me wanting to destroy things, so Friday night I'm putting on all my spiky black gear and moshing at the Mean Fiddler. Anyone in?
Fantastic Four is a super-fun summer movie with stupid plot holes, but it's myth, so roll with it. The Human Torch was hot even before his powers. Also: a clamped car trailing sparks being chased by police, jumpy Londoners, and a message to terrorists: you've only made me late for work.
Angry, not scared, after today's failed London bombing attempts. They were amateurs compared to last time, but they still had a plan and still panicked the city. My tube link to London is down again. Retreating into Harry Potter, where the villains are clear and defeat is guaranteed.
Tired but blogging anyway. Life's good: pizza, Harry Potter, free tickets, summer walks across London. That last item on my list didn't quite work out.
London's dark humor is returning after the bombings, and so am I. We're coping the only way we know how: taking the piss. And to those posting "We Are Not Afraid" from Nebraska: easy to say when you're not the one who's fucking terrified.
Today's attacks hit home in the most literal sense. The bombs went off meters from my desk, on the lines I ride every morning. I finally understand what it meant to be in Madrid or New York. London is my city, my home, and today someone hurt it. I'm writing this for me.
I'm okay, but all three of my routes to work were bombed this morning. Mobile networks are down. I walked home shaken. This was real, not panic or exaggeration. Reach me at work email for now.
Went from baking brownies to being ill again. London is a germfest, I'm a weakling, or both. Not going to the gym this time. Bright spot: a generous donor gave £30 to Gay Geeks, covering a chunk of hosting costs.
A quick list of life's recent highlights: iPod everywhere, new washing machine, dinner, cuddles, good flatmates, National Theatre plays (especially the gloriously self-referential ones), tea, and sleep.
Impromptu picnic in Hyde Park this Friday if the weather holds. Have my number? Grab strawberries and cream from M&S and give me a call.
Went clubbing in Shoreditch: survived a bongo-playing sadist, a skip fire, and a venue that was essentially a drug den with a dancefloor. The music made it worth it. Barely.
I weigh in on whether London lives up to its gay fantasy reputation. It's great for meeting people and building a social life, but lonely at first and expensive always. Your world is defined by your friends, not your city, and that takes effort anywhere.
Moved into my fabulous new house. Huge living room, a media room, trees outside, 10 minutes from Oxford Circus. I love it. No ADSL until Wednesday so blogging will be quiet -- read PlasticBag instead.
Won free Popstarz tickets again! Spending Friday moving house then heading out dancing regardless of how exhausted I am. Can't wait to finally find out how far Finsbury Park actually is.
Almost missed my daily blogging resolution! M came to cook tonight so I was off the internet all evening. Only news: I won free Popstarz entry for the one week I'm not planning to go. Anyone want to be me on Friday?
Off to Oxfordshire for a party. Popstarz last night was fun but exhausting. Also: I'm moving to Finsbury Park on February 11th! Zone 2, baby. Poor future housemate J got hit by a flying bottle and ended up in casualty. I need sleep. Or Lucozade.
Here are my holiday plans: London through December 30th, then tropics until January 13th. My first UK Christmas ever. People say cold weather makes it better, but warm fuzzy feelings seem easier when you're actually warm. I'll report back.
Saw a revived Noel Coward play this week with friends. Amusingly, we nearly walked out at the end of the second act thinking it was over. Mortified, we grabbed ice cream and returned for the actual finale, which was much better.
Living in Tooting means enduring near-constant fireworks from October through January, as residents celebrate every conceivable holiday. I'm begging you all to consolidate into one big display so I can sleep before 3am sometime before February.
On a deserted Friday night tube ride, I spotted a beautiful crying goth and spent several agonizing stops working up the nerve to hand her a note as I stepped off. It read "Don't cry. You're beautiful." Her smile in return was worth every second of anxiety.
I saw the Scissor Sisters at Brixton Academy on Halloween and had a great time -- once I fled the crushing crowd to the back of the room. I'm just not a gig person. I need room to move, not strangers' elbows and Essex girls shoving their way to the front.
Got my phone stolen in Leicester Square by a kid faking a disability to distract me while he lifted it off the table. I fell for the oldest tourist trap trick in the book. Lost all my contacts -- please email me your number.
London in September is effortlessly, quietly romantic. Crisp air, warm coffee, glinting cobblestones, busking jazz on the Thames. Paris gets the headlines, but London doesn't need them.
Brilliant birthday weekend despite zero planning: Popstarz, rain-soaked picnics, tickle-fights, music snobbery, and Ghetto. Exactly what I needed. Still unsettled about something big, but at least it's crystallised now. Bring on 24.
Been too busy living life to blog about it. Good weekend though: Popstarz with friends, a Green Park picnic, and The Bourne Supremacy (dull). Also added a music log to the site so you can judge my taste in shit.
Life's hectic but good. Parents are in town, work is crazy, and I'll be at Noise tonight. Come say hi!
Got into a homophobic confrontation on the night bus home from Popstarz. Four thugs hogging seats, making slurs. I switched seats to help a friend, got physically shoved off. Then, stupidly, mouthed off as I left the bus. Did I bring it on myself? Partly. But I refuse to apologize for existing.
London Underground's "Inspector Sands" announcement is a coded message to staff that a fire alarm has been triggered, designed to avoid panicking passengers. Large public venues use similar systems, though the exact meaning varies depending on your source.
London's Oyster card is convenient, cheap, and a badge of true Londoner status. But my favorite perk? Overland rail guards can't read them, so a confident wave gets you a free ride. God bless you, Oyster.
Manic week: saw the brilliant Ben Wishaw in Hamlet, attended the London blogger meetup, finally stalked Tom in person, caught a glimpse of Cory Doctorow, and watched Eternal Sunshine. Also something mysterious happened Monday. More soon, maybe.
Caught *200 American* at the London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival on standbys -- best seats in the house. Between that, a perfect steak, *Starsky and Hutch*, and clubbing at Popstarz, another unplanned but brilliant London week. The audience was 497 gay men and 3 women. That poster was doing its job.
A fun weekend with Mikey yields scattered observations: Popstarz good, O'Neill's not Irish, Tate Britain Turner-heavy but decent, Lord of the Rings would be shorter with mobile phones, Paycheck entertaining, London movie prices absurd, and Mary lives impossibly far from Central London.
Had a vivid dream about accidentally throwing a free bar for all of Oxford Street. Saturday was great: coffee with friends, a genuinely stunning Tate exhibition where strangers spontaneously made art in a giant ceiling mirror, Mystic River (well-acted but pointless), and a random night ending with a warm wait for buses.
A fantastic weekend: Popstarz, kebab life lessons, the camp movie CAMP, Danny's 21st, and the genuinely jaw-dropping ladies' loos at the Knights Templar. Also Heaven, giant ants, and an unexpected candlelit dinner with pole-dancing lesbian conversation. Highly recommend all of the above.
Saw Shakespeare's R&J last night and it's brilliant in ways no review quite captures. Four repressed Catholic schoolboys secretly act out Romeo and Juliet after lights-out, but their own feelings become tangled with the text. The acting is ferociously energetic, the dual plots stunning. Go see it.
London's new Oyster smartcards are finally here, replacing those flimsy paper tickets. Reusable, cancellable if lost, and they work without leaving your wallet. I've been waiting ages for these -- the readers have been sitting there unused for over a year. Inexplicably excited about this. Yes, I'm a geek.
After way too much stress, I've found a place in Tooting Bec: a big ground-floor room in a quiet cul-de-sac, shared with friendly guys my age. Moving in this weekend. Edinburgh next week. Anyone able to put me up for a few days?
Joined Friendster and finally discovered MoveFlat.com for London flatshares. Loot has been useless lately because everyone migrated there. Still searching for both a flat and cute single gay men.
Back after two weeks offline due to a broken PHP script, ironically timed with my new PHP job. Now I'm flat-hunting in a sweltering London, sweating through viewings of overpriced, cramped flats. I want Zone 2, near a tube, with a living room and minimal murder. Apparently £500 won't cut it.
I moved to London, went job hunting, and almost immediately landed my perfect gig: PHP/SQL dev work in central London with great people and a solid salary. Starting August 11th. Now I just need to figure out where to live before my overdraft kills me.
Visited London for a joint birthday party, and now face the Big Week: last performances, final results, goodbye meals, and on Saturday, the end of my university career. Also managed to leave my luggage on a train. Aaargh.
Had a fantastic birthday weekend in London. Thanks to everyone who came out, though let's be honest, it was mostly about me. As it always is. I may have a problem with that. I don't care.
Took Friday off and hit London: Popstarz (best club ever, designed exclusively for me), a Brazilian barbecue, failed Body Worlds visit, hotel room gossip, Regent's Park, and Covent Garden's underwhelming street theatre. A great weekend, even if returning to Winchester remains as depressing as ever.
Week 1 of term 2 done. Turned in my assignment on time and hit London for the January sales. Camden Market delivered, Oxford Street didn't. Also: Prolog scrambles your brain but writes tiny elegant programs, the new iMac is gorgeous, and Castle Transylvania is disappointingly now a tourist resort.
