Londonward

It seems that my right foot and I do not get along too well this year. I managed to knock it on the sofa, cracking my toe nastily in the process. Just as the foot began to feel reasonably normal and I’ve dared to actually run with it I whack it again and swell up my toe. I can’t put my weight on it, and It looks quite horrible. If this doesn’t look any better soon, I may have to go and show it to a doctor. I don’t get it - why the right foot over and over again?

If I believed in premonition, the dream I had the night before could have been a warning. In it, my upper right front tooth chipped somehow, and I ran around looking for a place to get it fixed. Everyone was closed or told me that it was just cosmetic and that they wouldn’t fix it for me. I eventually woke up frustrated and clenching my jaws. Three hours later I stood up to go to the kitchen, cracked my toe and doubled over in pain. I can walk all right, though, especially with shoes on.

The new flatmate moved in yesterday, and I can’t help but feel a little apprehensive. There really isn’t any reason to - I’ve heard that she’s a nice person and everything. It just feels a little strange to have a new person just barge in and start putting her stuff in the cupboards and bathroom. First impressions are really important, and my first impressions were of her complaining about various aspects of the flat. Sure, the water boiler system needs looking at, and it really sucks that there are mice behind the kitchen cupboards, but is it really necessary to loudly complain about the place being on the ground floor (and consequently “horribly damp, cold and infested”) immediately? She’s not a newcomer to London, so she must know not to expect luxury.

Besides, she wasn’t here to look for the place. It was for her sake that we pushed down the price bracket, knowing that she would be looking for a place to stay on a tight budget. In my mind, we got a pretty good deal for our efforts. Geography-wise the place is in a great location and the street is quiet. We pushed the landlord’s initial asking price way down - for her. The other flatmates are paying slightly more than her in comparison. Why is she complaining?

Not too long from when I’m writing this I’ll be sitting in the final exam for this year. It’s the core module for my course, Environmental Change and Sustainable Development. I’ve studied a fair bit, and seem to have a hang of the material, but I’m still worried. Once that is all over and done with (after what I hope is 3 hours of frantic writing and not frustrated scribbling) I can be found down at the pub. Either I’ll be celebrating the beginning of summer and the end of exams or drowning my sorrow. Probably the former.

I can’t believe it’s over. Starting from September, these eight months have gone by incredibly fast. I still remember exactly what I felt like when I first dragged my suitcase through the gates at Brixton station (apprehensive, tired and irritable). Yesterday I closed the door to the old smelly flat for the last time, recalling how strange it was to sleep in that room, with the noise of the main road, planes flying overhead every two minutes, and the high ceiling staring back at me. It feels like yesterday that I walked aimlessly around the LSE campus, not knowing anyone or anything. I remember starting studies on overdrive, loosening up and realizing at the end how much work there still was to be done.

I’ve made some great friends here in London, and have gotten in touch with others that I hadn’t seen in a decade. Everyone seems to end up or at least pass by London, and it’s great to be here right now. I know how good it is to know people from all around the world, and I hope they feel the same way about me.

It feels like my time. In the past six months, issues directly relating to my course have been gaining ground in the news. Awareness of the issues we’re dealing with is increasing, as are (hopefully) my future job prospects. The future looks pretty good right now. I have a job for the summer, annoying though retail can be, and a part-time job at the University for next year. The courses don’t look half bad either.

Starting tonight, I have a fair bit of free time. Finally I’ll be able to do things that interest me, and go around on a whim. Rock n’ Roll. So, what’s cool in London?

Moved into the new flat, for the most part at least. The massive boiler sucks up so much electricity that we’ve been loath to keep it on while being there only part-time, so there is no hot water. That means we still take showers in the old place. Oh well, by the end of this week we’ll be out of this place and in the new one full-time. The old landlord called us today saying that he’s rented the place out to the next tenant, but they want it from Friday the 25th. Our contract runs until the 30th, which means he owes us a week’s rent (or thereabouts) and the deposit back. We’ll see what kind of a fight he’ll manage out of that.

Ran into our friendly neighbourhood dealer the other night. We were all walking to the shops and for some chinese takeaway when we passed a car with its engine running. The guy leaning toward the car had something in his hand which he deftly hid from our view as we passed. Once past them, we heard the car speed off away from us rather quickly. No dilly-dallying with the weed-buying.

In fact, I also saw the police rather nicely thwart a selling attempt in Brixton last night. They ran toward the bus stop shelter a guy was sitting under, interrupting a sale. The kid protested that he had nothing, and the officer proceeded to kick out a little black plastic bag from under the guy’s feet. I guess he had nothing to say to that. Didn’t stay to look.

What do you show a 14-year old in London? That’s been my problem. We’ve taken a river cruise on the Thames to Greenwich, seen the Prime Meridian and the Observatory, hiked all the way to Greenwich station to take the DLR (look mom, no driver!) to Tower Gateway and then the number 15 bus to Trafalgar Square. Maybe I’m gearing the sightseeing more toward the older or younger end of the market, but I could imagine a teenager getting excited about going around London, seeing a shedload in a day.

Instead, he’s been moaning how bored he is and refuses to do anything but slouch and drag his feet when we’re walking. I know he’s excited about the Imperial War Museum (as any boy would be) but nothing else seems to work. He kept saying how much he just wants to go back to the hotel room to watch TV. I guess I can understand that, I must have been difficult as a teenager as well - it must be part of going through that age. But being in London with people that actually know something about the place and just moaning? I don’t get it.

I know they’re going to the Tower tomorrow, on Monday. Maybe the crowds won’t be as massive on a Monday morning. What else is there for a teenager to do, except for the Star Wars exhibition at the ExCel? It’s strange, I need to keep telling myself that he’s not yet of the age when you can just go and hit some pubs for fun.

Being a teen must suck.