London Calling

I went to London this weekend. In theory, this was because I had a job interview there; but the interview lasted thirty five minutes and was finished by twenty to four on the Friday and I didn't fly home until ten past three on the Monday, so I wouldn't say it exactly dominated my time there.

The first experience I want to tell you about is showering at King's Cross station. Already quite a shady prospect in and of itself, to my mind, this is made shadier by the fact that to avail yourself of this amenity, you have to go to the Left Luggage and slip them a fiver. They then give you a ticket, which you give to the security guards at the toilets, who hand you a suspect towel and a bottle of shower gel stolen from a hotel. They then lead you to a featureless door and let you into a room with no shower curtain, no raking, no screen, indeed no method at all of keeping the water from going wherever it damn well pleases and a showerhead on one of the walls. There was just a motion detector with which to summon or dispel the flow of water- no control over the volume dispelled, certainly no way to alter the temperature. I asked the security guard if there was a time limit and she blinked at me as if I'd asked where I might go to contract smallpox in this fair city. She left and I got down to the main event- scalding myself, soaking my clothes and getting soap in my eyes; exactly the state you wish to be in when attending a job interview.
I returned the towel, pocketed the shower gel and tried to decide if I actually felt any fresher. And then headed off for my interview.

I won't bore you with the details of a job interview, but I will bore you with the details of my visit to Hamleys. I went there to unwind after the interview, on the suggestion of my mother, and was very disappointed to find out that toy trains are no longer in vogue. How else can you explain the downsizing? When I was young, I remember I loved the Hamleys toy train track- it was massive and ran the length around the two staircases between floors- there were at least four different trains on it, running at different speeds. It was marvellous. There was one track, smaller than what they'd laid out for the Scalectrix (Scalectrix, really, I mean, honestly). I didn't even bother to photograph it. Out of anger, I broke a toy car by driving it straight into a wall (this was an act of defiance and not just sheer clumsiness, I swear) and then left. Well, maybe I stopped by the lego first. And the UFOs. And the bubble machines. But then I marched straight out to meet Patrick.

Normally when I see Patrick a lot of time has elapsed since our last rendez-vous, because, like everyone else in my life, I seem to only be in the same country as him twice a year, but this time we'd seen each other twice within a month and so it felt a lot more relaxed. We retired to the UCL Scandinavian Studies common room with some crisps and cider and chewed the cud. It was lovely.
What was not lovely was the hostel I was staying in, as I discovered after I left Patrick to go there. It was only £29 for three nights, which I accept should have been something of a warning; still, there was no pillow, they hadn't changed the sheet or washed the duvet cover despite the previous occupant apparently having had a nosebleed or maybe haemorrhaged to death right there in the bunk, and left quite the stain on the bedding. I was also staying with the long-termers which is always an awkward situation because you are essentially paying to stay in someone's bedroom (and usually someone with none-too-great-a-life, if you're honest). The window was broken and there was no ladder to get up to the upperbunks, and, perhaps most stomach churning of all, there was no toilet paper. Anywhere. It was not a nice place, is what I'm saying. Still, what a bargain!

Next up was a day with Poppy- and it was fantastic. We ate pancakes, went to the science museum, where we we drank at 11 in the morning and coloured in the children's placemats

Perfect.

(apparently, there are also exhibits- I certainly didn't see any), went to the Victoria and Albert museum where we looked at the tea rooms and then left (yet again, not a single artifact on display), then went to Covent Gardens, where we drank some more, then to the apple shop where we dragged clumsy ninja around by his ankle for an hour and then to see Shakespeare in Love at the Noel Coward Theatre. I haven't seen Poppy since September and we immediately fell back into our old pitter-patter of random insults, deeply personal truths and non-sequiturs. In total, we spent more than twelve hours just the two of us together- I don't think I've spent that much time all at once and one-on-one with someone for years. But it felt amazing.

 

The next day, I went to see Whiplash (Oh, English language cinemas, how I've missed you!) and then met up with David of David K. Barnes fame. We met at the National Theatre, which felt very posh but was a lot less expensive in terms of drinks than other places in London. We laughed, chatted and exchanged theatrical anecdotes in just the right setting for doing so.

After this, I went to see The Play that Goes Wrong at the Duchess Theatre, which was extremely funny. But it did trigger a slight bit of PTSD (Post Theatrical Stress Disorder) in me, especially a scene where an actor spectacularly failed to untie a ribbon on an important document, which mirrored an earlier incident in my own life: during Oh My God in The Ten Minuters, I was completely unable to unwrap a shovel from its sheathing blanket and had to hand it to Alex, my co-star, who got it off in a matter of seconds. Very embarassing.

 

The next day was bissected by my flight in the afternoon, so I couldn't really do anything with the time, sadly. I mulled around a bit, returned to the Science Museum, nearly caused a security incident by accidentally leaving my bag under a bench and then left. Pretty standard, really.

Still, the weekend in total was an absolute blast and really makes me think I should visit the captial more often- it's expensive and exhausting, yes, but also exhilirating, experiential and exciting.  

2015 Resolutions (Accountability Index Coming in December)

• GO OUTSIDE EVERY DAY: I am ashamed to say that this will take quite a change in my lifestyle to accomplish, but the truth is I can spend entire 48 hour periods without stepping outside my hermetically sealed bubble of a room. But I will do this no longer. I am going to spend at least half-an-hour per day not in my room, and work doesn't count.  
• WRITE SOMETHING EVERY DAY: This is one I've set myself every year since about the time I first went to Uni. I've never kept to it, but I like to subscribe to Henriette Skinnes' theory that you have to make the same mistake or fail at the same goal a certain number of times before you manage to finally conquer it and hey, maybe this year will be that year. JUST TO CLARIFY: I count 'writing something' as something creative totalling five or more pages- this can be a whole script, a scene of a larger play or a chapter of a prose story (or even an entire prose novel if I can*), but it has to be complete. No more starting non-starters. This seems like a scary amount to me, but then I just knocked out a five page script in, like, an hour and I can definitely spare an hour a day to try and pursue this craft I love.
• GET A TATOO: I've always kind of assumed I'd end up with a tatoo at some point and then I realised that I'd actually need to get one if I wanted that to happen. You don't just wake up with them**. I've had an idea for a design for a while and I might use that or I might go with something else. I also don't know where I'll get it- my mum, who has a butterfly on her back like someone with an interesting story to tell or Ted Mosby.
• GO SKYDIVING: This is the one I'm least certain I'll do- not due to cowardice, as I've been reliably informed that skydving is much more comfortable and pleasant than bungee jumping, which I've already done- but Skydiving is quite expensive and, despite my job, I am quite strapped for cash right now. However, it's not like I never splash for luxuries and so maybe I'll just have to invest in this one really cool experience and then eat the crappy bread from Carrefour for a while.
• VISIT AMERICA: Yet again, due to money, this one will almost certainly not happen. A man can dream, though. Honestly, this might have to be a roll-on dream that I just hold on to and big up to unbelievable and inconceivable levels so that when, years later, I finally do achieve it it has no choice but to be a massive disappointment like that House episode where it finally was lupus. In fact, I'm only including it on my 2015 list because Jason is going to be moving to Virginia in September and so, with Kristen having already abandoned ship from Long Island to London, my circle of friends around Manhattan will be reduced to just Emma (who is singularly splendid on her own, but does objectively provide fewer points of contact than three people). So, it'd probably be wiser to go in the first half of the year before Neato flies the coop- maybe I can swing it, but I'm fully expecting to not score great on either of these last two come the end of 2015, but that's OK because at least I'm gonna try.   

And so, that's five. Quite a few, but, hey, look at all the shit that went down in 2014: gotta top that somehow.
* I most definitely can't.
** Lots of people, in fact, do. Alcohol and all that.

2014: A Retrospective

This year began and ended in the same place: Rik's house, surrounded by friends, alcohol and Cards Against Humanity. It's not only a very enjoyable way to spend New Year's, it also provides a lovely pair of bookends to 2014. This is preferable to the histrionics, betrayal and crying that began 2013. So, so preferable.
The bookends thing also appeals to me because I am nothing if not a purveyor of shlocky dramatic flourishes and well-worn narratives. Thus, I love that this has been a year of milestones: I reached 50 plays; I graduated; I started my first full-time job; I left my first full-time job; I moved country (again); I started my first skilled job; I finally won 2048. 2015 is gonna have to try pretty hard to beat that in terms of sheer character development.

It feels funny that this time last year, I was sitting in the exact same room that I am now, with almost the exact same people, but feeling so much more nervous about the future- at that time, I was still faced with the threat of failing my exams and impending joblessness. In actual fact, I achieved a reasonable grade in my degree, and I spent only two months (January and September) of this year unemployed and am in fact currently the only one in my family to have a job, which makes me feel very important. Of course, my contract runs out in April, and then unemployment looms once more, but I'm less concerned about it than I was last year, knowing that I have been able to find a job once and will hopefully replicate that trick soon.
In terms of jobs, I think I'm going to look for more TEFL positions once my job in Laon finishes- I've actually quite enjoyed teaching. The students are slightly unpredictable, but it's great when you really feel you've been able to impart something to them:

ME: What did you do over the weekend?

STUDENT: Nothing. 

ME: Well, then, lie; it's allowed.

STUDENT: I killed a lion.

ME: Cruel.

--------*TWENTY MINUTES LATER*--------

ME: What are you writing?

STUDENT: What you just said.

ME: It doesn't look like what I just said.

STUDENT: Well, you told me to lie to you.

ME: Aww, my baby's all grown up.

I'm very glad they couldn't understand the last line, but that was a high point for me.

Although it was quite a busy year, I am struggling to find things to write about and I've just realised why, and it's another milestone that I forgot to include above and am too lazy to go back and insert and, besides, it now gets a paragraph to itself: this is also the year which I have most consistently historiographed on this blog. This blog, The Devil's Ink Pots, is now my longest lasting web log, having surpassed The Wizard in Oz by 158 days as of now. You may wish to count Criticisms and Witticisms, which I also started in Australia and some would say is still technically going, but, much like Amelia Earhart, the Green Lantern sequel and my career as a telemarketer, it may never have officially been given up upon by pretty much everyone knows it's dead.
I don't know how long this blog will last, but I certainly intend to keep it going for at least another while longer; I like having a record of all the stuff that happens to me, especially in a year like 2014, when a tonne-o-stuff went down. I think I'm also going to take a page from the book of my absolutely favourite blogger, Jenny Trout, and do a resolutions post and then have an accountability recap at the end of the year to see how I do. Maybe knowing that I'll have to pubically acknowledge my failure to do what I said I will will motivate me to do those things, like political campaigns always do. Expect a Resolutions post very soon.

I've also just realised that this was the year when I moved the most: eight times, in total. Which seems absurd. And I ended up spending the best part of a month living with Jari, all in all. I hate moving, and it was annoying having to rebox and unpack and then unbox and then repack all my stuff, over and over again, but I also lived in some brilliant flats with some lovely people (and heard the best quote of the year from Jo Shaw while sharing a kitchen with him).

Truth be told, I'm a little nervous about 2015, cos this year has been so monumental and, all in all, a resounding success: obviously, I wasn't manically happy all the time and not everything to which I turned my hand spouted gold, but I still got where I needed to at least 80% of the time and, really, most importantly, I had an awful lot of fun. Let's try and keep that up, shall we, Rory?