I am currently embarked on a  journey to Paris where I hope to work in the English language bookshop Shakespeare and Company. Although there are perfectly good flights that would get me there in no time at all, I have decided to travel through the UK visiting old friends who have since moved away. The following is an assortment of excerpts from my travel journal.

…The layby wasn’t the perfect hitching location… …got a lift… Bracknel… …train to Waterloo…

later, Trafalgar Square.

On arriving at a payphone I discovered that I did not have Laura’s number. I then walked to Trafalgar Square to an internet cafe. Not only did I get Laura’s number, I also discovered that Paige was on her lunch break and working very near by in the National Portrait Gallery. We met for a vegetarian Indian style of lunch before a minor potter through Covent Garden where a busker was singing oppera. Can’t compete with that…

later still, London Bridge Station.

I’m sitting outside M&S waiting for Laura… …absolutely knackered and in desperate need of a wash… The phone boxes stink of piss…

Wed 24th October 2012

After writing the above at London Bridge station I was joined by a stranger who sat down and struck up a conversation. Her name was Livia (“as in the wife of Augustus.”) She was waiting on some friends and had noticed me, brightly dressed and scribbling in my journal. She produced one of her own and said that she was writing a book about her travels and the people she met. It would appear there are a few more out there like me…

Laura is as small, Irish and chatty as ever. We nattered away the journey to Beckenham, and on arrival I was able to have a much needed shower… …Chris arrived and cooked an excelent dinner of pasta, olives, sheeps cheese, basil, garlic and mushrooms…

Yesterday I got lost in Beckenham, wandered all over the place before I eventualy found the house again. I went into town and had a minni look around the Brittish Museum, gloated over the Elgin Marbles and sent Jonners a birthday postcard…

Friday 26th October 2012

I met Paige at Nelson’s Collumn, and the two of us got the bus to Putney. Paige had bought wine, cheese and pork belly, so I knew we’d be doing our usual foody thing. Once the pork was in the oven we went to the pub for a couple of beers before walking in the park by the river…

…Yesterday Paige had managed the day off work, so we went on an adventure. We started by taking the tube to baker Street and visiting the Sherlock Holmes Museum at number 221b. Inside it was all Victoriana, cases and cabinets of “artifacts” relating to Mr Holmes as well as his bedroom and study. Alas, we forgot to bring a camera….

…once in Camden we made for a diner and had beer and excelent burgers. Tasty drippy blue cheesey numnums…

…we hunted round the market… …taking in the sheer variety… …books, coats, hats, boots, teacups, teashades, joss sticks, herbs (misc), places to eat, street food, tea&cake, a shisha bar, and vinyl I was very sad I couldn’t buy because I had no way of transporting it…

…a little old man on one stall stopped Paige to tell her how posh her coat was, and that he recognised the pattern and styling. He said nothing about the ripped and tatty eight year old leather left clining to my back…

…an antiquated spectral part of the Underground, where dim glass globes hang from the ceiling like deceptive sprites… …ariving at the Brittish Museum. I couldn’t help but laugh, all that was in my mind was the Not The Nine O’clock News sketch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Th6ts_O7Jno

…North America, South America, Eskimos and Aztecs, or as I have been repeatedly corrected “Inuit” and “Mayans.” In one hall there was a massive tapestry of all the drugs the avarage man and woman might take over the course of their lives and a coffin shaped like a camera.

Africa was downstairs with a tree of life made from decomissioned guns, a tapestry from foil bottle tops, and some more traditional carnival ware, with videos showing it being used. The hippo’s agressive irrational style looked the most fun.

We then popped across to the National Portrait Gallery (Paige’s work) where each Thurday they stay open late, run a bar and give talks. Paige gave me a selected highlights tour over a glass of white wine, but we skipped the talk as the subject, “DEATH”, didn’t seem quite so significant as dinner…

…swung by a Waitrose on the way back… …goats cheese and rocket salad followed by muscles in white wine and garlic butter. We then proceeded to drink a bottle of cava whilst watching “the Trip.”

More instalments at irregular intervals soon, later, or not at all.