Sorted

London's a big place, but somebody's got to live all over it.

When I arrived, I lived in an ex-council estate in the East (with its mini-gangsters), an actual house with a fake room up North (in the middle of the Jewish community), in a fancy pad with en-suite and clothes dryer out West (where posh people are) and now I've finally taken up residence in the South London.

I've been accused of North-bank centric attitudes in the past, and I've Before this year, I'd been over the river to the South bank only a handful of times (and yes, most of those were so that I could walk along the River Thames looking at the North bank).

Specifically, I've taken up residence above a disused Mexican pizza restaurant in Wandsworth, the brighter borough (although at least two cranky old ladies would disagree).

It's got a good selection of dodgy take-away joints, nearby green parkland and easy bus access to places like Hammersmith and Clapham Common.

Speaking of Clapham Common, the Chinese State Circus have a show this afternoon. I'd quite like to see some Wu-shu Warriors slicing up junk and flying acrobatics.

Homelessness update

The last couple of weeks has seen me bounce from hostel to dusty hostel, so I was overjoyed at the chance to stay at Chez Skarnz while he was out of town visiting the missus. I slept in an actual bed, and I was the only person in the room! It was brilliant!

Massive props to that fellow.

Welcome to London (Population 7)

That's right, folks, I'm back in London (at least for this week). But where is everybody else? I've caught up with a few of Londonites, but I've had a hard time getting in touch with some people. It seems half the city is on holiday!

Carly, Jack, Giulia, Kellie... where are you?

The interview in Amsterdam went well so stay tuned for my musings on that subject. (Apparently it's really quite difficult to check references in New Zealand.)

Art, language, society, weather

There's a wonderful new place on Oxford Street, opposite the enormous Freddie Mercury. I'm not sure my new discovery has a name, or even what it is — it's like a gang of street artists broke into an unused retail space and covered it with subversive creations like Santa's Ghetto and the Heinz Beans Looter.

If you're in the area, do check it out (before they get busted?).

Also in the area, I had my first language swap with some friends I met through work (one German, one Polish). We managed to thoroughly disturb the whole coffee shop practicing the difference between the shh sound of of Polish s and the ssh sound of Polish ś. Slavic languages sure have a whole lot of different whooshing and hissing noises; my poor English ears can only begin to discern them!

Some fellow tube passengers noticed my copy of GQ Magazine in German and we actually struck up a friendly conversation. This may not seem noteworthy unless you're familiar with the mandatory surliness rules for London transport. To be fair, the conversation did take a turn for the worse when they discovered my vegetarian tendencies. They seemed to consider it a kind of frightening disability, on par with losing one's legs or waking up deaf.

Also, a tornado caused some grief a couple of kilometers from my house. My own roof appears to be intact!

Consolation prizes

I didn't make it to Poland, but I did get a dashing hat.

I also had one of the most interesting nights I've ever had in Golders Green; I especially liked the crazy punk smashing rubbish bins and kicking doors. The all-honking, all-flashing train station alerts were entertaining, too.

As a side effect, the sharks got smarter

Many of you are familiar with my, er, talent for transport and punctuality. This evening I was particularly on-form: it took me six hours to arrive, and I somehow managed to switch transports no less than five times (as well as ending up on the other side of the river).

I didn't mind missing the entire rugby game (France vs the All Blacks), but I wasn't so pleased to find that I had missed pub licensing hours. Yes, by the time I arrived I wasn't allowed inside. Cozzie laughed as I stood at the door, making sad faces.

Ally Mead is in London for the week, and she was looking forward to catching up with another — only I honestly couldn't remember meeting her before. I felt awful for entirely forgetting a person, and I'm sure she wasn't exactly thrilled at being forgotten.

It reminds me of one year in high school, where I shared the exact same timetable with a particular girl. That is, every time I went to class, she was there too. Every period of every day for the whole school year. It took me until September to realise this fact.

School would have started in February or March, so that's around seven months.

Dates for the calendar

A bunch of us have Monday off work so we plan to attend The Church in all its infamy. All I'd heard about it before I came over here was printed in The Big OE Companion:

The most notorious of all antipodean drinking attractions is The Church, so named not for its beliefs but because it's held every Sunday afternoon. It's fun but it's not pretty, and the heavy drinking culture has led many a Kiwi into disgrace. If you find yourself there for the fourth weekend in a row, head out the door immediately, take a tube to Heathrow and catch the first flight home. For your poor mother's sake.

Every Antipodean has to go at least once, they reckon. I've been here for well over a year now, so I suppose it's time I did my duty.

Still Kiwi, but much quieter

I've been listening to Bic Runga quite a bit lately (you can spy on my listening habits with Last FM) and I foolishly missed the pre-tour mini-gigs she had with Neil Finn in the background, on piano. She's back again, now, but her final London show sold out but there's a phone number for standing room. I think I might try ordering a ticket or two.

Anyone feel like coming with me next Tuesday night?

Bonus level

This sounded interesting: Music from classic video games played by a symphony orchestra with a live stage show and lasers. Oh, and light-cycles. Sometime in November.

Update: The Church was indeed fun but also very messy. I had to buy a new belt after what happened. Bic Runga's show sold out and I didn't go. I felt a bit out of place in Video Games Live! but I'm glad I went.

Top tip for London

Don't leave your bag unattended while you go inside to get drinks. Especially when there are signs saying things like:

Bag thieves in the area.

Don't leave your bags unattended.

I know, I'm a fool and I've got nobody to blame but myself. Luckily, it only had a couple of valuables inside (and only one was irreplacable).

• My camera and memory card
• Asthma-style inhalers
• A new electric shaver
• A notebook with some journal notes, most of which had been typed in here.
• A collection of Edgar Allan Poe-try
• A souvinir pen or two from my travels
• A box of Space Man candy sticks (mostly eaten)
• An expensive-ish software engineering book

...and a partridge in a pear tree. The journal is a bit of a loss, everything else is just a bit inconvenient.

Actually, the bag itself was pretty useful — it was the rugged zip-off daypack from a Macpac backpacker's backpack. Much sturdier than the Secret Santa bag I use for weekend trips away.