Where better to start than the capital, London? Well, many places probably (see Devon and Cornwall for instance) but this is where I started and it was a short but sweet visit. Having lived here for five years, there is once again that familiarity but also a sense of the exotic: you revisit the same things and old places but there is that little change here and there. Finchley and that cute looking tapas bar on the corner of Long Lane. Parliament, but with a new bunch of oiks in charge. The Evening Standard still littering the tube but now free of charge (and, finally, now worth every penny).
My 24 hours in London commenced with more familiarity, catching the Northern Line again to Finchley again for a dinner of paprika chicken again with Melita and Geoff again. I could eat that meal again and again. Next morning, it was Australia revisited, as the sun emerged and temperatures warmed for a trip into the city with Caroline, a friend of a friend who I first met in a distant backwater called Sydney, Australia. Perusing the rather fine produce at Borough Market was followed by a half pint of warm beer in some historic pub, reminding me how I miss both warm beer and proper boozers, plus drinking at 11:30 in the morning. Then there was a catch up with Sadia and Susie, ex work colleagues and current friends and fellow despairers of all things work...very cathartic. And then time for a rest in the star studded surrounds of Primrose Hill, where the temperatures topping twenty degrees brought out the bikinis.
The warmth continued into a balmy evening taking in some pasta and a beer outside Euston station, scene of Northerners escaping the heat by heading north, a pilgrimage which
I gatecrashed. From the capital to the glamour capital – Blackpool – in a few hours. Here for more intensive catch ups and g’days and celebrations of two of my bestest friends who I lived with in that town down south called London. The sun sparkled, so did the happy couple and Blackpool won the play offs. If only Holloway had stayed at Argyle. Who says it is grim up north? Next time, I’ll stay longer.
My 24 hours in London commenced with more familiarity, catching the Northern Line again to Finchley again for a dinner of paprika chicken again with Melita and Geoff again. I could eat that meal again and again. Next morning, it was Australia revisited, as the sun emerged and temperatures warmed for a trip into the city with Caroline, a friend of a friend who I first met in a distant backwater called Sydney, Australia. Perusing the rather fine produce at Borough Market was followed by a half pint of warm beer in some historic pub, reminding me how I miss both warm beer and proper boozers, plus drinking at 11:30 in the morning. Then there was a catch up with Sadia and Susie, ex work colleagues and current friends and fellow despairers of all things work...very cathartic. And then time for a rest in the star studded surrounds of Primrose Hill, where the temperatures topping twenty degrees brought out the bikinis.
The warmth continued into a balmy evening taking in some pasta and a beer outside Euston station, scene of Northerners escaping the heat by heading north, a pilgrimage which
I gatecrashed. From the capital to the glamour capital – Blackpool – in a few hours. Here for more intensive catch ups and g’days and celebrations of two of my bestest friends who I lived with in that town down south called London. The sun sparkled, so did the happy couple and Blackpool won the play offs. If only Holloway had stayed at Argyle. Who says it is grim up north? Next time, I’ll stay longer. 
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