musings on das kapital

And by that I mean London, not the infamous book by Karl (Marx, not Kennedy. And btw when playing the quizzer the other night I embarrassingly answered that Richard Marx wrote that. I saw "Marx" and acted hastily. Shouldn't be allowed to play)...

I have just returned from spending a couple of days in London Town. I have been many times of course and used to spend a lot of time in South London, but I still get very excited at the prospect of going. Well, usually. This time I could have done with a couple of days to relax, but it was all alright in the end.

When I used to spend my Summers in the City I used to marvel at how many people there must be in the world to fill such a grand, cramped place. I put that down to having grown up in a field. But now I am more accustomed to its incredible scale (even though the tube map is so disproportionate. When are they going to rectify that I wonder?) and I revel in feeling insignificant amongst it. However with each visit the more I discover myself turning into one of those people I used to despise, who would see the world through Londoncentric specs*, and everything else provincial had no worth. Upon returning to Leeds (although I'm hardly its biggest fan, granted) I thought it looked pretty pants. It only has about 4 streets of beautiful buildings. London has endless square miles of buildings that might make me consider studying architecture to be OK.

This particular visit did see some achievements in my London view of things:
(1) I did not visit Camden. I always visit Camden and it's always the same. There is just no need anymore. Plus it's too gothy nowadays anyway.
(2) I have finally built up the courage to still run for the tube even though I can hear the "door are a-closing" beeps. I've always been in awe of these people in the past. What bravery! After my first attempt (when my bag got caught in the door) I almost perfected the move and managed to look pretty damned cool a couple of times, if I do say so myself. If only the tubular sweats hadn't been so obvious. It's underground, for fuck's sake. Can't they get air con?

When meeting Tombola (of Tombolablog fame) I saw a pie stall that advertised how it did not accept Scottish notes. Now I have heard the "Bugger you they are legal tender" argument many times and wondered how Pie-peeps get away with this. Ah, yes, it's London.


*I recall being infuriated once when at uni, when one friend from London said to another, "I'm going home this weekend. Is there anything you want me to get for you?" Rah #2 replied, "yes, please. I need some incense". Incense? I think you can get that up North, you loser! However the seed of that attitude showed itself in me this weekend. London is an amazing place, and in my opinion there is nowhere else so vibrant. If anyone else knows of any similarly remarkable places, I would love to hear of them. Largely because I will never be able to afford life in the City.