London, Camden Town. Revisted.
See the full set here .
Odd box: In Search of The Ewok Village
Trekking across London on a hang-over on a busy Saturday afternoon is both tiring and stressful. So much so that despite being hung-over I manage to re-discover my thirst by the time I get to the boozer. The bar lady serves up my pint and I scan the crowd for a familiar face. The pub is crammed with blokes - and the occasional lass - in Rugby jerseys. Ireland are playing England and the atmosphere is swirling with beer fumes and testosterone. Not the kind of place you would expect to find somewhere called the ‘Ewok Village’.
I check my phone inbox again and sure enough the message reads ‘We’re in the Ewok Village’. I try to call but no one picks up. Am I in the wrong pub I wonder? I walk outside and see that the pub that I’m in is called the Faltering Fullback. Ah – that explains the rugby. This is the correct pub but there is no obvious connection to The ‘Ewok Village’. It must be a colloquialism; a secret code known only to a select few.
iafrica.com: Trouble on the 143
Yesterday I had an encounter with that most evil of all living species: working class, white, English teenagers. OK, they were barely teenagers and about half my size, but that didn’t stop me from pushing one into a wall. Wait, hang on. Let me rewind a bit, so that you don’t think I’m some sort of bully.
It all started in bus. Not a typical English bus like the ones you see bouncing happily along the streets of central London. It was the #143, a garden-variety people carrier. I was sitting staring out the window, calm and peaceful like, when the driver stops to pick up commuters. The doors swing open, their hydraulic hinges aggressively forcing them apart.
iafrica.com: I need a hero!
Like a hawk following a field mouse scuttle through the undergrowth, I watch the bread as it moves towards me. It approaches, then suddenly darts right and is pounced upon by a couple near the entrance of the restaurant. The couple, in their early thirties, begin to tear into its sweet, delicious flesh.
The male predator is tall with longish hair and commands the conversation with self-assured, savvy confidence. His hand gestures are grandiose and flamboyant and his partner nods in agreement and adulation between nibbles. My stomach rumbles and my eye twitches. I curse our luck since I’m sure we ordered before them.
photo: a snow day
And on one day in February, it snowed. Boy did it snow. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” The angels sang as I opened my curtain and the saw thick piles of white stuff heaped over everything. No machine would be able to tackle this surely! Especially no machine used to take people to work such as cars or tubes or busses. I switched the radio on and they are advising people to stay at home. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” This time I am singing. These are pictures of me and my wife frolicking like excited children in West Ham park. It was a good day and the typical miserable residents of Stratford East London were for one day transformed into pleasant, giddy idiots.
iafrica.com: London Calling
“London calling to the faraway towns,
Now that war is declared,
And battle come down”
The Clash were playing on the radio this morning and the lyrics come back to haunt me as I walk the streets of London on a bright, blustery summer’s evening. Ambulances and police sirens wail throughout the city centre and shroud an entirely pleasant evening with a grim reality.
iafrica.com: Dating London Style
My new job starts on Monday. It’s shiny, new 2005 and as I sit and drink the last few sips of my proverbial pint, I begin to reflect upon my month-long holiday. Well, so much for Dostoevsky, museums and galleries. So much for PlayStation, reading, relaxing, going for walks and almost everything else I planned. Looking back through the days and nights which have weaved themselves into a seamless, colourful fabric - all I can really remember is… women.
iafrica.com: Night falls… but I like it!
Every year at about this time, the same thing happens; I get colder and confused. I end up sitting around trying to figure out for myself which way the clocks go. It gets lighter later so does that mean I set the clocks forward? And it gets darker earlier so that must mean I set the clocks backwards? Perhaps some of you got it instantly, but for me it can be like trying to understand time travel.
