Must-Sees and Tube Snogging

On 9 September I went to a session of the T Party, a group that meets once a month in a London pub to critique fiction --- mostly SF and fantasy. It feels to me like the culture of SF and fantasy is very similar everywhere, and I felt very at home in this group almost immediately.

We had only one story to critique, and thus plenty of remaining time to just chat. Eventually the discussion turned to what sorts of things I ought to do with myself while living in London. Among the suggestions:

Small museums and collections. The Wallace Collection. Somerset House.

Just once, as it's so expensive, have the roast beef at Simpson's on the Strand. Simpson's has great English breakfast, too. Similarly, spring once for high tea at the Ritz.

Garlic & Shots. This goth hangout has a menu emphasizing garlic and a bar emphasizing shots.

For an odd night out, Intrepid Fox. For an odder night out, Ben Crouch.

Denni, the East German ex-pat in the group, suggested that I take advantage of the London sports bets culture to bet on something weird. Odds are laid, for instance, on the outcome of reality shows.

Brick Lane for Indian and Bangladeshi restaurants (although there are perhaps eight of these within a five-minute walk of our flat as it is). The Brick Lane Festival. Brick Lane used to be a Jewish quarter and is now south Asian.

Near London Bridge, Barrow Market for fresh food.

Go up in the London Eye. It's not just for tourists. Londoners love it, too.

All the standard museums.

For something odd, the shell temple at Margate. Discovered when someone fell into it by accident, the shell temple is either an authentic pagan temple or a 17th century folly, but no one seems to know which. (Comment by Holly when I told her of this: “Surely someone can tell.”)

Martin is willing to tutor me some on the intricacies of football, rugby, and cricket.

Outside of London, Windsor is worth seeing.

For November 5, there are many places for viewing fireworks, but Lewes near Brighton, again outside of London, is special for its “secret societies” that build hate figures for the bonfires. There we will likely see images of Guy Fawkes, the Pope, Tony Blair...maybe even George Bush if we're lucky. From the sound of it, these secret societies are a bit like the Mardi Gras crewes in New Orleans.

Before this discussion at the T Party, I'd heard from our upstairs neighbors, Chris and Claire, that there is a wonderful Victorian monument with inscriptions dedicated to individuals who died trying to do heroic things, such as saving a drowning child.

I feel like I'm filling my plate nicely with ideas of things to experience. And of the free evening papers, so far my favorite is The London Paper which has two features that I especially like. One is “In the Know” with tips about special things to see or do, like this one:

“Abney Park Cemetery: One of the weirdest, spookiest yet strangely romantic places you'll visit in London. It stopped being used as a cemetery in the Seventies and is now a nature reserve. The graves are all collapsing, overgrown, and higgledy-piggledy, and the chapel in the centre is a ruin. When you walk in off Stamfor Hill, it feels as if you've entered a Tim Burton film. It's usually deserted and you can't hear anything except birds. High Street, Stoke Newington, N16 5TU.”

Another feature is “3 Things to Do Tonight.” And a recent entry: “The first Tuesday of each month is candle-lit late night opening at this beautiful museum. The house of the 19th century architect Sir John Soane, it houses the treasures he picked up on his travels --- including an Egyptian sarcophagus --- as well as masterpieces by Hogarth. 13 Lincoln's Inn Fields, WC2. Free.”

So far in this entry, I'm reporting a lot about things I haven't done yet. Something I did do was come home on the underground. I walked from the T Party meeting to the Temple station with Gary and Peter. As we entered the station, I stopped to ask them if they were sure I was going the right way. I knew that parts of the Circle and District lines were closed for the weekend, and that it mattered which direction of Circle I caught. I think my puzzlement gave them the impression that I was gormless about the subway system, so they were solicitous about taking me in hand and making sure I got where I was going. Again, a reminder that I find Londoners on the whole very courteous and helpful.

On my Bakerloo car, directly across from me sat a couple in their twenties who could not get enough of each other, at that stage where they probably haven't slept together, or at least not more than once or twice. She was sort of draped across him, and they nuzzled each other. He licked her. Long, open-mouth kisses. They were in that mix of self-consciousness and oblivion that comes with being hopelessly infatuated and sexually aroused, aware that people were watching and probably disapproving, but for the moment not caring because they were elevated above the concerns of ordinary mortals.

While this was happening, two women of about twenty got on, wearing the low-slung pants that can be --- and were --- so unflattering. It's hard to say why this look doesn't work sometimes, but in this case it seemed to me that the low cut of their pants left them looking strangely shapeless. Besides these pants, they wore layers of shirt, vest, and jacket. One of them eased herself stiffly into her seat. The other sat down quickly and gave a little yelp of pain. “Oh, God,” she said. “I hope I haven't started it bleeding again!” Their navels weren't visible, but it wasn't hard to guess what they'd just had done. “How long does it take to heal?” “Depends. Up to six weeks.” “Six weeks! No!”

They talked about how they would look. “I'm going to put a diamond in mine to show what a bad girl I am.” “You should do that. And hair extensions.” They made further suggestions to demonstrate that they were being intentionally over the top. Hair extensions would really be too much.

The couple who were snogging disengaged sufficiently to stand up and leave the train.

“Oh my God,” said one of the newly-pierced. “Yes, that's where I'd bring my date. On the tube!”

“Imagine doing that on the tube! Who does that?”

“At least he was nicely dressed. I want a guy to dress well. Not like some of them. Some guys, I want to say to them, 'You want to go out with this looking like that?”

Odds and Ends

I'm sure I'm getting slang wrong and misspelling place names left and right. For slang, I can understand what's being said, but I haven't yet tuned in sufficiently to how it is being said. I need to hear a lot more London dialog to accurately reproduce it. And for place names, the subtlest differences in my American ear and English pronunciations mean that I don't easily make the leap from what I think I'm hearing as the name of a pub --- the Wheat Chief --- to the obviously more reasonable reality --- the Wheat Sheaf.

On Saturday, Holly and I attended Queen's Park Day. In the park were giant inflatable clown slides, kiddie carnival rides, donkey rides, music from the bandstand, a temporary stage with a magic show, and all manner of food vendors, local artists, psychic healers, tarot readers, vendors of flea-market oddments, and service organizations.

Holly and I joined the Queen's Park Residents Association. I logged on wirelessly from the tent of the Queen's Park Wireless Club and their Community Wireless Broadband Network. Thanks to Rob and other members of the group, I was able to check my e-mail and teach my MFA students eight time zones away. www.queenspark.me.uk

I wish I had met these guys before I bought wireless connect time from Sip & Surf for twenty pounds a week. They would have charged just ten for a month of connection. I'd also rather have done my Internet service through them instead of BT, both to save money and to support a local connectivity effort. Sometimes we learn about these things too late, but I may see if I can cancel some or all of my work order with BT and get more reasonably priced service that doesn't require a one-year contract...especially as I'll only be here another eleven months.