I took my third trip to London this September, from the 15th to the 21st, and crowdsourced a lot of my friends for things I should do. I was asking for lots of advice because the first two times I went to London kind of sucked. Trip one, back in 2002, was with a girlfriend and had lots of touristy stops baked in. I am not so tourisy. The second trip was a short one in which I spent most of my time in the Old Blue Last in Shoreditch shooting video — aka, a work trip. This time around I said damn the tourists and finally figured out how to enjoy London: from the front of the top of a bus.
Clapham Commons Clock
In all honesty, the first two days there were a wash. I lazed around the apartment of the lovely friend who was letting me crash at his place being jet lagged, and then working on the edits to a few chapters of my (still forthcoming, not for another year so don’t get excited) book that were due before I left London. Some homemade Italian food was consumed, some music was listened to, some truly terrible French vodka was drunk against all good sense. My friend’s crash pad is in south London, below the Thames, however so I got my bearings in a circular walk around Clapham Common when the thinking involved with editing got to be too much and my brain felt like it might explode.
Friday the 17th was the first real day of London exploring an I opted for a walking tour of East London. It started in the banking district and went through the Spitalfield Market, which had several amazing things I wanted to buy including several pieces of French vinyl. I was well behaved due to limited finances and suitcase space, however, at some point a nice spinach and feta pie in that old fattening British style. From there the walk proceeded down Brick Lane and through little India and Shoreditch, which is more interesting at night when the hipsters come out but it was nice to get the feel of a place I’d only seen from the tube stop to the Old Blue Last before. We did stop into Rough Trade East, whose vinyl was appropriately scoured and discussed at fairly decent length. Then we dropped in on the Whitechapel Gallery to catch an exhibition of works by Alice Neel. This followed by a short stroll through Whitechapel and then the first in a nice series of bus rides down high streets, specifically Kennington with a nod to Brixton (which I was told, repeatedly, is where David Bowie originated from). The evening was low key, consisting of Spanish tapas and a drink in a local pub. If you walked around all day you’d be lazy too, okay?
Abbey Road gates
Saturday brought one hell of a trip around the city, starting with a trip to Abbey Road Studios. No, there was no photo of the little crosswalk of fame but I did snap this one of the graffiti decorating the walls outside the studio. People wrote some of the funniest, sweetest, most perverted things. The best part, however, was when to small kids who obviously lived in the neighborhood walked by and one said to the other, “Do they repaint that every month?” The reply was an exasperated, “They repaint that every week!” From there I took a walk up to the Little Venice canals and up away to Notting Hill and the Portabello Road market. The best encounter there was an older man selling a limited Elvis Presley plaque from a U.S. show in the ’50s, with the contract, a ticket, a show poster, and other memorabilia. After a short walk we dropped into the original Rough Trade (what, I’m a completist) to see a bit of a random in-store performance by a singer/songerwriter girl from L.A. (who was awful). After all that walking I needed a pub, so one was produced a few doors down in which a time out was taken to drink Irish pear cider and figure out what to do that night. This is where things go ridic. So we go to Camden to hear the dudes from Foals DJ (allegedly). First I force a stop at a random Cuban restaurant because I reached the point of ZOMG MUST EAT. Then we end up accidentally seeing Minnaars, who are not Foals but whose singer looks exactly like the guy from Foals, and some other band (who were awful and so will remain unnamed). Then there was some dancing, some trying to pick up gay boys, some falling down and sleeping.
Sunday was a sleep late, wow so that’s hangover great! sort of morning. I went to the Natural History Museum, because if you know me at all you know I need to go to the natural history museum in every city I go to. This was done, however via a bus through Chelsea which was a really lovely ride. After looking at dinosaur bones and space rocks there was pizza. Then I took care of the blisters on my toes.
London rooftops all actually have Mary Poppins chim-chimenies.
On Monday I took off to visit the Tate Modern first thing, at the crack of afternoon. Appropriate time was spent rhapsodizing on their abstract impressionism, while the surrealists were appropriately sniffed down my nose at. From there I went to the Victoria & Albert, whose Grace Kelly exhibit was annoyingly full, but whose collection of jewelry made up for it. So many rings I need to own. Then I had a spot of tea and that evening went to meet a friend from NYC who forsook the US in favor of London a few years ago. OMG YES at the Thai place she took me to. Delicious.
And then I came back home, which took over 24 hours of travel. I listened to lots of Bob Dylan and Rolling Stones on the way, because it just felt right.
Thanks to everyone who gave me tips and ideas of things to do — there were at least five that I really wanted to get to and didn’t. One of them was probably yours.
