London was quite fun, indeed. After just one day, we got used to the smell and the litter on the streets. The stupid water taps took a little bit longer. The Smart Hostel Camden seemed like a joke when we first got there and, yes, their Continental breakfast was an insult to the Continent (white bread, skim milk, strawberry jam, cornflakes in a small, dirty kitchen). I suppose we could have gotten something better for 15 £/night and if we couldn't have, I gladly would have paid “a few quids“ more for a proper hotel. Camden seemed nice, although full of goths, tourist traps and pot dealers. But as little as I saw, I liked it. Something made you feel very welcome.
We happened to catch Mystery Jets playing in a record store in Soho. E & K liked them, but I don't know. Them Camden again and a pub called Dublin Castle (which at least Suggs from Madness seemed to have liked). I went back to the hostel to sleep, since I am very responsible, sensitive to fatigue and dull.
Only a slight majority of us got up in timely fashion the next day (you see?). We went to Soho Square and I was ready for my ritual at the memorial bench of Kirsty MacColl. Nice. (“Soho Square“ is my absolute favourite song this autumn).
The thoughts of Ida W, mediated through her brother Oski, made us aware of a veggie fast food restaurant called Red Veg. It was great.
Then Oxford street, which was boring and crowded, but that was really no surprise was it? We met up with Johnny in Picadilly and he was looking for some shoes, so we went for a somewhat confused search for some Fred Perry dealers (I followed Johnny with the words “They see him here, they see him there/In Regent Street and Leicester Square/Everywhere the Carnabetian army marches on/Each one a dedicated follower of fashion“). Kenneth told me to step down from my high horses or something like that.
We waited for an hour at Covent garden, in which the photograph is taken. Then, when Ekin and Pisa finally arrived from Camden, we decided we had to get back there. Then, we started our journey to Rochester, where Johnny lived.
The house was cosy and I immediately felt like I wouldn't mind living in such a house.
The following day we visited Kjell in Maidstone. Their house was nice too. I made the mistake of buying Linda McCartney's Veggie Sausages wrapped in pastry, which were absolutely horrifying in taste, nevermind the look.
We attended a house party where Kjell's sig. o., Stine, lives. There I met the Aspiring Fashion Photographer, Champion of the Vulgar. Dear God.
Next day, after some initial troubles, we were on our way home. What we thought was thunderclouds was of course smoke from the explosion. A picture of it, taken from the train window, can be found here: http://www.abo.fi/~mbjorkas/askmoln.jpg
Okay, I'm done now.
written by Mattias