This Train is for Cockfosters

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London is, I have to admit, just as fantastic and exciting as any of its North American counterparts, despite its UK-quirkiness, a fact I wasn’t ready to accept until we spent four days running about in it. There I was, with a secret “I *heart* NY” tattoo on my left biceps and an “L.A. 4-EVA” on my right, wandering, gaze fixed upon the Tower Bridge over the Thames, when a double-decker cut me off and I tripped and fell onto the rainy London street, head over heels in love with the bloody city.

Well, nothing as silly as that actually happened, but Tim and I did have a wonderful time in a city that I’d never been too excited about visiting prior to this trip. Now I can’t wait to get back.

Timing-wise, fortune was on our side. I just happened to have 6 days off work in a row (I’m part-time now by choice: 3 days a week!) which fell on the same weekend that Tim had career-related meetings booked in London. My good friend Jeremy was also slated to be in the city along with his band (Arcade Fire, who just happen to be a favourite of both Tim and I) for a series of sold-out shows at a church, and one of Tim’s old friends had just moved to London two weeks prior.

We took the train to London on a Friday afternoon, and enjoyed a relaxing ride through the British countryside. The coast between Dundee and Edinburgh was particularly breathtaking. As the sun set over the water, it certainly felt as though we were in a land far more exotic than the UK, which was a timely reminder not to take our surroundings for granted.

St. Athan’s Hotel in London near King’s Cross was about on par with the Tay Mills in terms of quality, but just right when it came to budget travel in the metropolis. It felt like staying at my old friend Dew’s eclectic house, but aged back several decades. Charming, cosy, practical. The legendary British love for curry houses made our decision an easy one and dinner was Indian buffet.

On Saturday we walked through Bloomsbury to the Victoria Embankment, and took in the skyline over the Thames. It was at that time that we first noticed the tall, black rocket-ship/pickle -shaped office building over to the East. We giggled and speculated as to its purpose. Over to the west we wandered until we came upon Covent Garden, complete with small shops and kiosks, crowds, and buskers. It could somewhat be considered London’s ‘Byward Market’, and offered a fun place to wander about for a while. We had tickets for Cabaret in the West End/Theatre District at 2:30, so we spent some time in the surrounding areas, wandering Chinatown sipping bubble tea, and taking in the crowds at Leicester Square.

Cabaret was an excellent musical and I have no idea why I waited so long to see it. Far less bubble-gummy than other musicals beloved by yours truly, and with serious themes and well-developed characters, it was highly enjoyed (and recommended!) by both Tim and I.

Late afternoon became a bit chilly, and though no rain clouds chose to give us a real ‘London welcome’ that day (or any day on the trip, for that matter), we went inside to warm up over tea in a pub called (I am in no way implying anything about my nor Tim’s operating abilities) The Crooked Surgeon.

We walked through St. James’ Park to Buckingham Palace, which was a beautiful sight at night. For some reason, I’d never pictured the palace so much in the centre of the big city, with office buildings on the horizon and such. From there, it was on to Piccadilly Circus to meet Tim’s friend from Western, Nabil. Nabil took us out for dinner (after getting somewhat but enjoyably lost in the neighbourhood) to an excellent Thai restaurant whose name escapes me, but whose distinguishing feature was that of seating separate parties all together at huge square wooden tables. The food was amazing, and it was so good to dine with Nabil, a real charming young businessman who works, no less, in the giant black ‘Gherkin Building’ as we came to learn, much to our delight.

The walk through town back to St. Athan’s at 11:30 on a Saturday night was spectacular. Dundee, lovely as it is, knows not of streets so vibrant and electric.

On Sunday, Tim and I headed even further west to Notting Hill to meet Jeremy for a wander down Portobello Road, another road replete with quaint shops and outdoor market stalls with what Londoners would consider ‘bargains’ (ie/ $40 used sweaters). We enjoyed green and blue frosted deluxe cupcakes at a cake shop, and grilled brie panninis at a café. Tim found a used t-shirt depicting a mill-type building set ablaze, with the slogan “Don’t let this happen to you!” and purchased it as a souvenir of the Tay Mills in all of its Fire Safety paranoid glory.

Jeremy left us mid-afternoon to go grant interviews and other rock-star stuff, and Tim and I headed down to South of the River to the Tate Modern art gallery. On display in the main atrium/foyer (Turbine Hall) of the building were Carsten Holler’s usable futuristic metal twisty-tube slides, spanning 5 storeys and looking like something out of the Jetsons. We saw some great works by our favourites Pollock, Ernst, Picasso, Bacon and Warhol among many others.

Afterwards, we walked over the Thames across the Millennium Bridge and saw London Bridge from there. We stopped in at the gorgeous St. Paul’s Cathedral on our way to some excellent Italian food for dinner.

Monday found Tim and I going our separate ways, as he headed out to his meetings and I enjoyed shopping along Oxford Street and found a Warhol exhibit at the Timothy Taylor Gallery in Soho. We met up again for what was to be the piece de resistance of the whole trip: a chance to see the Arcade Fire play at St. John’s Church in Smith Square, courtesy of Jeremy.

The band’s performance was divine. New and old material was performed with so much heart and intensity that the whole thing felt as spirit-stirring as any religious rite that may have been carried out in that place of worship before it was converted to a performance hall. The band finished an encore, but then proceeded to file out the side door of the church with instruments in tow, and surprised us all by performing their real finale out on the steps in the courtyard. Onlookers stopped what they were doing, coming out of buildings and leaning out of windows to share in the magic of the moment as the music travelled upwards to the starry heavens. See what I mean? Divine.

We were lucky brats and were invited to drink wine and share a meal and a laugh with Jeremy and the band before it was time to call it a day and head back to the hotel.

Our last morning in London was peaceful and calm as we forsook the busy streets for the sanctuary of Regent’s Park, still beautiful in its winter sleep. That is, until two large black swans in the pond proceeded to grant us a display of what avian ‘afternoon delight’ is all about, complete with strutting, honking, and the sort. British propriety certainly doesn’t extend to the wildlife.

We would have enjoyed a longer stay in London, but a train bound for bonnie Scotland was waiting for us at King’s Cross station. It was good to get back home up north again, but Tim and I realize that we’ve been bitten savagely by ‘the bug’ and that it won’t be long before the next adventure calls…