Sojourn I: London Calling to the Faraway Towns

Big Ben from the London eye, Prij, 2012

It's been a long time since I've gone away on holiday. Four whole years. When in May the opportunity arose to travel down to London for a few days in the near future I figured I should take it. After all, I end up sleeping through most of my time off work when I'd really like to be doing something. Plus it gives me something to write about and travel writing seems to be quite popular with whoever reads this blog. For some as yet undiscovered reason my outbound travelogue from 2006 is the most popular post on this blog with well over a hundred hits from South Korea. Personally I prefer the inbound post, but either way travel writing is something I enjoy doing in the vein of Round Ireland with a Fridge and if a post about me making eyes with a girl in an airport cafe can be the most popular post, then let me witter on for an easy few thousand.

I'll admit to being nervous about travelling again, though it may have been stuffing my face the night before that made me feel ill at four in the morning. After an expensive taxi ride to the airport I wasn't looking forward to being forced to partake in security theatre for the first time in years. It might have been because it was off-season or a Monday morning, but the traversing of security wasn't as irritating without a massive queue snaking toward the X-ray machines and metal detectors. Still, I was fairly peeved when having to remove my iPod from my pocket made one of the bits of rubber from the earphones fall off and roll under part of the machinery. A far cry from the seething irritation that usually marks the opening of my travelogues, but I think I've moved on from the shouting and raving literary style. The sound you can hear is my 17 year old self shouting 'fascist' from the other side of the decade.

A nice difference from the usual fare was breakfast in the British Airways lounge, which, as with the taxi expense, was a perk of the trip being being paid for by someone else. The major upside of this trip being a domestic flight was the comparatively short flight time, as in my previous travels, mostly to the Canary Islands, I've had to endure five hour flights. In fact it felt like no sooner than we were at altitude we were coming down again. There's about 400 miles between Glasgow and London and the pilot announced we were descending from 140 miles away, so we really were ascending for twenty minutes, cruising for twenty, and landing for twenty. No sooner had we finished equalising our ears and ate the in-flight meal than we were popping them all over again. I can just imagine how much of a pain that'll be when sub-orbital flights have vastly reduced continental travel times.

As we approached the metropolis I began to see just how huge it was compared to Glasgow. From horizon to horizon it was almost completely urban. We landed in London City Airport, which I had understood to be close to the city centre. It's as far from the centre as Glasgow Airport is to Central Station, but the difference is that London is that much larger that it may as well be in the centre. Now on the ground of the capital, we were 11km from Westminster. Here I saw the integrated transport system in action - something to behold. I find the tube map less confusing now that I've been on the Docklands Light Railway and the underground - which I suppose is true of any journey, but bear in mind I once stepped out of Paisley Gilmour holding my hand-drawn map completely unaware that I wasn't facing South and ended up halfway to Glasgow Airport before I turned around. When we finally alighted three stories under London we ascended a series of escalators that could well have been a stairway to heaven if we hadn't started so far down. The structural design of the station was familiar, probably due to all that research on subways I did when playing SimCity four years ago. Eventually we exited into the noon day sun - though I was completely oblivious as to where we were until my mother pulled me to the side and told me to look up - Big Ben. Nonchalantly I said, 'Yes, we're in London'. Surrounded by tourists, you could hear virtually any language - I spotted Spanish, Russian and Japanese within seconds. Funny how I can identify them but I can only speak English.

Imperial War Museum entrance, Prij, 2012

Although our residency was a 15 minute walk away at most, a cab was hailed that took us the few streets to the apartment block. After unpacking and sitting down for a bit my mother and I decided to walk down the road to the Imperial War Museum. I was greatly offended to see a map of spies captured during the Second World War had the positions of Glasgow and Gourock the wrong way round. Just one more reason for independence. In the main hall the museum has a large collection of artillery guns, tanks, and aircraft suspended from the ceiling. I don't doubt the authenticity of the exhibits, but up close they seem more plasticine than metal due to the paintwork. I suppose it's like seeing an orange from a distance as smooth and then seeing it up close. I might be confusing that analogy with an explanation of the extra dimensions of string theory. Maybe they just lather on the paint.

That evening we had a booking at a restaurant. Before the meal we had to pass through building security and wait for our escort in a large and busy foyer. It was right around 6pm and as the place was awash with interns and researchers I had to remark to myself, '¡Ay, caramba!' - I hadn't seen that many young women in years. I had long since been aware my particular line of work is a total sausage fest, so excuse me if you think the above is misogynistic, but working at Royal Mail is a bit like being in the navy in the nineteenth century. It's not the kind of workplace in which you can meet women. Anyway, the centrepiece of the evening was a meal in an undisclosed exclusive riverside location - suffice to say, I saw someone of moderate fame whilst dining. When we returned to the flat around quarter to nine I decided to lie down and attempt to write what you're reading now. I wrote the title and the date and then fell asleep. I slept almost straight through to the next morning which was convenient as I had a tour of Parliament in the morning. Anyone who has taken the tour surely notes just how small the House of Commons chamber is compared to its depiction on television. The cameras are mounted above the entrance to the debating chamber and likely use a wide angle lens. A nice little detail is the damaged woodwork on the chamber doors where Black Rod strikes his staff three times. When the tour finished I was watching the internal television displaying the commons' afternoon schedule. Directly across the courtyard Big Ben chimed eleven and the on-screen clock changed. I'd liked to have heard the famous thirteen chimes just as in an episode of Captain Scarlet, but I had no idea where I'd be able to hear it from. Looking online it seems I could have heard it just beyond the Imperial War Museum. Whilst I was there I was shown something off the beaten track. I'd seen a few of my Westminster colleagues working around the Parliament and I was introduced to some of them in the basement sorting office. I had meant to ask them about Moya's informative visit last year but I didn't get a chance as a senior union representative dropped in at the same time.

On Wednesday afternoon we decided to visit the local tourist trap, the London Eye. I think I could have bought a gold bar from a Swiss bank for the entry price. Nevertheless, I was surprised at the high attraction-to-queue ratio as I'd assumed more of the day would be spent waiting to get to the ticket desk than actually on the bloody thing. Good views, though, from 120 metres up. Looking at the photos I can see just how little of London I actually got to see during the trip. On the way back from the Eye we were walking along when a Diplomatic Police van lit up, did a U-turn and stopped in front of a small Italian restaurant called Cotto followed by a Met squad car and a large police van. No idea what that was about, but I was used to seeing and hearing police cars at all hours as the local station was just down the road. We ventured the furthest from the flat on Wednesday night. We headed out to Trafalgar Square to see the stage play of Yes, Prime Minister. I was certainly aware of the show, but I think the only time I ever saw it was in politics class in college. On the way there I stood out as provincial when I scanned my Oyster card when getting off the bus. On the train journeys you scan into the station and out again at your destination, so I figured the same on the buses by analogy. Apparently not, as the bus fare is at a flat rate no matter how far you go so I paid twice. The oyster card definitely speeds up travel times as exchanging cash wastes time like nothing else. I'm quite confident we'd still be on that bus crammed like sardines if everyone who got on had to pay in cash.

Alas, my insistence on not spending an entire week of my holiday down South meant it was already time to leave when I woke up on Thursday lunchtime. As we rode the public transport back to the airport I had a better sense of where we were in relation to the landmarks of the capital. As we checked in I noticed a young woman in an orange jumper at the next check-in desk. I had a feeling she'd be on the same flight. We made our way to the departure lounge where I elected not to browse the duty free shops. It brings to mind the phrase 'exit through the gift shop' except the way the departure gates actually flow through the shops makes me think it's a microcosm for Western life - more 'live in the gift shop'. I had to go to the toilets after drinking too much earlier. When I stepped in and turned I had to make a quick etiquette decision: there were four urinals. Urinals two and four were in use leaving one and three available. As three would put me between two men I immediately opted for one since that was the least gay option. Unfortunately I then flashed back to using the toilets in Prestwick six and a half years ago. I'd never had a problem using urinals but that time I was so desperate I couldn't relax. Now thrown off by that memory, it was happening again. I stood there an eternal ten seconds until the two other guys left and I dived into the unoccupied cubicle. Doubtless this is how it begins.

As we filtered into the tiny departure gate I was trying to avoid eye contact with the people sitting directly opposite, but there was only so many ways I could stare at the wall above their heads and pretend I was casually looking anywhere but straight ahead. Lo and behold the woman in the orange jumper occupied the single free seat almost right in front of me. Now my eyes were continually being draw to her and I couldn't help but wonder if this is the kind of crap that made that post from 2006 so popular in South Korea. All the elements were there: a woman I'd never met or known anything about in the slightest and was now the subject of my romantic comedy style fantasies. She was seated further back in the plane and I was tempted to make my way to the bathroom just to drop a scrap of paper with my phone number in her lap. I don't actually have a phone aside from the house landline, but I figured scribbling an email address just wouldn't be right. If you know me well enough you should already have figured out I didn't do anything. I saw her in the distance further down the arrivals gate and that was all that was.

Being on a domestic business class flight once again had its advantages. Firstly, there was none of that moronic applause you get on landing as if the pilot needs your approval to know he didn't get us killed. Secondly, no need for passport control. I've never forgiven them for what happened six years ago. All the better because I think the photo for my passport still depicts me with long hair which singled me out for questioning that time. And that was my trip. Would I go again? Yes, I think I would. From a purely touristic perspective there's plenty I didn't see that was within a short distance. There's also other reasons I feel attracted to the big city, but I've written enough here already, so standby.

Would you look at that, I've finished writing and it's 0540.

[2274 ; 4.00]