Another One Bites the Dust...

Yesterday was a sad, albeit eventful day: I said farewell to two of the lovely friends I’ve made here, AT and TvH.

The morning started early, as I was scheduled to join AT and EN in Soho for some coffee at 11 AM. Since I arrived a bit early though (big shock), I was able to wander around and snag a few photos of the gaybourhood. I’m trying to take a friend from back home’s advice and take photos of all the every day things that seem common now but which I’ll appreciate seeing again in later years. One thing I noticed while doing this is that the Diamond Jubilee decorations are really starting to crop up around London, which I think is awesome! It’s amazing being a part of history!

Diamond Jubilee decorations near Leicester Square

Diamond Jubilee and Pride decorations at Village

Eventually it was time to meet up with AT and EN for real, so I made my way back to the coffee shop. We spent almost two hours, just drinking, chatting about our time abroad, and laughing. It was great fun!

Me, AT, and EN at LJ's Coffee. (Whew, that's a lot of initials!)

Following coffee, we headed over to King’s Cross Station / St Pancras International (with a brief stop at Forbidden Planet to pick-up the second Game of Thrones book) so we could find Platform 9 3/4 of Harry Potter fame. I have to say, I found the interiors of these two stations positively lovely! (Plus I’m a nerd, so I loved seeing the Harry Potter stuff!) 

Off to Hogwarts...

EN and I at St Pancras Inernational

With some time to kill still, the three of us walked next door to the British Library, which is both the UK’s national library and one of the world’s largest in terms of total number of items. Among other things, the library holds one of the only remaining copies of the Magna Carter (which I saw) and, in the middle of the building, is a four-story glass tower containing the King’s Library—65,000 printed volumes along with other pamphlets, manuscripts and maps collected by King George III between 1763 and 1820.

Alas, around 2 PM, it was time to say goodbye to AT. We walked to the Russell Square tube stop and said our farewells. It may well be that one of these days, when EN and I are back in Chicago, we will simply have to take a road-trip to Colorado to visit our friend. (What the hell, it’s only a 16 hour drive!)

EN headed out with AT, so I had about an hour to kill before meeting up for my last hang-out session with TvH, so I took that time to wander around the British Museum for a bit. I wasn’t too fussed about spending so little time there for two reasons: (1) I spent an entire afternoon there with Nic back in 2008 and, (2) I find the fact that so many of their treasures were imported (read: plundered) from other lands highly problematic. Nonetheless, I cannot deny that I enjoy being around such significant items as the Rosetta Stone—plus the Great Court within the museum is one of the most stunning museum spaces I’ve ever seen!

A flawed panoramic shot I tried to take of the Queen Elizabeth II Great Court.

What the Rosetta Stone really reveals is that I'm HOT (in the sweaty sense)!

 Around 3 PM I started heading back toward Soho Square, where I joined TvH for a bit of much-enjoyed sun-tanning, and to say goodbye.

———
 

Technically speaking, this was the second time this week I’ve said goodbye. He was originally supposed to leave the day before, and we had gone out on both Saturday and Tuesday nights to celebrate, but an airline strike of some sort delayed his actual departure. 

You can read about Saturday night here. As for Tuesday night, we went to Village for a drink or two, followed by a private karaoke place called Lucky Voice (it was awesome—the five of us in attendance had a private room for a whole hour), and then to Lupo where we met a group of lovely women from Chicago and New York (and where I had to push-off an overly aggressive Italian who was harassing one of our new female friends. That's right, I'm a bad ass—a big, queer bad ass!).

———
 

Anyway, getting back to yesterday, I feel like it’s been ages since I saw and felt the sun properly, so I loved getting out there and just relaxing under its warming glow. Plus, I had wanted to spend some proper time chillin’ in Soho Square for a while now, but just hadn’t had the opportunity.

I look tan here...but where did it go once I left?

TvH and I spent a good two hours bakin’ (the hair on my arms bleached successfully, but I don’t feel like I’m all that darker). At one point, I even dozed off for about twenty minutes—it was wonderful! Eventually, TvH’s boyfriend joined us and we headed off for a quick nosh before I had to leave for my third engagement of the day. We grabbed our food, headed into Golden Square, and enjoyed one another’s company in the open air for a bit longer.

Finally, I couldn’t delay any longer, and had to say goodbye to TvH as well. This goodbye was a bit hard for me, as TvH was one of the first new friends I made here—we started talking the first week of class, and started hanging out during the second. I have him to thank (along with his boyfriend and all of the other amazing friends I’ve met through them) for the resurgence of my late-night partying ways. I’m so very grateful for all that he and the others have done to make this hermitish soul feel welcomed!

From there I hopped on a bus and began the trek to Hackney, where I was supposed to meet one of my UEL instructors—DS—for a celebratory drink. Though it took ages to get there by bus (the National Rail system frightens me for the ridiculous reason that I’m afraid I’ll wind up trapped somewhere for over an hour while waiting for the next train), the place we met at was quite nice. 

It was called Pub on the Park, and it was just that: a pub overlooking a park.

Pub on the Park--we sat outside, around the back. [NB: This image is not mine!]

We spent about two hours outside, just hanging out and talking about everything from the state of the education system, to our mutual penchant for getting lost, to Chicago taxi drivers and the inaccessibility of London’s southside by public transport. 

Of course, conversation was slightly hindered by my annual bout of laryngitis and the fact that for some reason I turn into a gibbering idiot when I try to talk to DS. I have no idea why this is. She’s bloody brilliant, but I don’t have the same problem around my other incredible mentors from back home—just her and SM, one of my other instructors here. I think it might be because they’re bloody brilliant AND British. The combination may simply be too much amazingness for my mind to process.

So, all in all, it was both an incredibly fun and busy day, but also a very sad one. I’ve said goodbye to two good friends and I don’t know when I’ll realistically see them again, and by sharing a pint with DS I’ve quasi-officially transgressed from present- to former-London-based student.

This experience really is drawing to a close… :-(

Barbecue, Gardens, and People of Iron

What an exciting, fun week it’s been! 

In the last 7 days I have visited France, Belgium, and The Netherlands; spent two delightful evenings and one lovely afternoon with various friends; and proudly watched from afar as my sister graduated from MC to UMBC, my parents celebrated their 33rd wedding anniversary, my partner competed in and conquered his very first Iron Person race, and my Aunt Peggy celebrated her 50th birthday!
 

I’m positively exhausted!

I’ll speak more about my travels anon, but for now I want to focus on a few of the things I’ve done in the London area this week, specifically yesterday.

In addition to being my parents’ anniversary, yesterday was Nic’s big race! I knew I would go stir-crazy if I just sat there refreshing the athlete tracker all day, so I decided to try and keep myself as busy as possible. (This was a wise choice on my part since the stupid tracker stopped doing its job after the 56th mile on the bike.) 

So, after starting my morning off with a 5 mile run—don’t forget, I’m training for my own big race (and still looking for sponsors to help me raise $440 by July, which you can learn more about here)—I took my ever-generous host / flat-mate MM up on his offer to go walk around Kew Gardens, where he works. 

I had been meaning to do this for a while now, but with the recent weather it hasn’t really been an option before now. MM and I spent most of the afternoon there—it’s such a lovely park—but my camera battery was low because I forgot to charge it after I got back from my trip, so I didn’t get many pictures. 

Highlights included seeing: Kew Palace, where King George III lived for part of his reign (and which is featured in the film The Madness of King George); some wonderful sculptures hewn from dead trees and created by Kew’s artist-in-residence, David Nash; and, seeing the amazing greenhouses like Temperate House, which is the largest surviving Victorian glasshouse in the world!

The backside of Kew Palace

Temperate House

By the time MM and I returned from Kew Gardens, it was almost 6:00 PM—yet, with the time difference, I knew it would be another 9 or 10 hours before Nic was done with his race. This meant I needed to find something to pass the time last night as well.

Fortunately, my friend TvH invited me to join him, LD, and KS for a night of frivolity at my favorite London club, Heaven. Since Heaven doesn’t open until 11 PM, though, we had some time to kill and went to Lupo first.

————

I’m going to stop talking about last night for a second, and jump back to Thursday.

On Thursday afternoon, TvH and I met up for coffee at LJ’s so we could catch up on the respective trips we had both taken the previous weekend, while enjoying delicious coffee and amazing (albeit messy) caramel shortbread thingies.

Around 5 PM, we set off for Village, where we were to meet-up with LD for cocktails—and just a few at that, because I was determined to avoid a repeat of the prior Thursday’s sloppiness! Unfortunately LD was denied entrance because he forgot his ID and so, after TvH and I finished our wine, we headed someplace where LD knew he could get in: Lupo.

I had never been before, even though it was right down the street. It wasn’t bad, though most of the clientele seemed to be yuppy straights who didn’t quite know what to make of the three of us, bouncing around flamboyantly on our bar stools to the music. On the flipside, the bartender—a lovely Melbournian named Dominica (Dom, for short)—seemed to adore us, and it was in large part because of her that we wound up staying there as long as we did.

Lupo--we sat at the bar. [NB: This image is not mine!]

Eventually, our bellies reminded us that we were famished, and so we set off in search of food. We finally found this barbecue place called Bodean’s. (BTW, check out that website—it's awesome!)

It. Was. AMAZING! 

Seriously, it was some of the best barbecue I’ve had—far better than most of the stuff I’ve had in the US, even! I swear, they must have imported their sauce from the Carolinas, or Memphis, or some other similar place known for its BBQ! (My mouth is watering just thinking back on it…)

Anyway, back to last night…

————

So, I joined LD and TvH (and later KS) at Lupo. Our lovely bartender from Thursday was on-duty again, and provided us with a series of killer drinks and shots! 

Finally, around 11 PM, it was time to head over to Heaven, where the four of us spent the remainder of the night dancing our little queer asses off. We even made it into the VIP area before the night was over (though I didn’t think it was so great, personally—at least compared to the main floor).

All the while, though, I kept a close eye on the time!

I knew I wanted to be home by around 3:30 AM, as that was Nic’s ‘best case’ finish time, and with the inevitable drama that plays out on London’s night buses travel frequently takes longer than expected. Sadly, despite my careful attention to the time, the buses nearly thwarted my plans last night. 

The bus that would have had me home in plenty of time was too full so I wasn’t allowed on, and the next one—20 minutes later, which would have been cutting it close but still an option—never showed. (I can only assume there was drama aboard and it stopped somewhere until the situation resolved itself, as the drivers are wont to do.) 

Finally, I managed to get on a bus at about 3:13 AM. Since there weren’t many passengers, the trip took a lot less time than expected, and I found myself walking in the door at about 4 AM—happily, I returned just in time to learn of Nic’s successful completion of his race as it was happening!

Whew! What a day, not to mention week—but more on the rest later!

Strolling Through Southwark...

As I mentioned yesterday, I really plan to make the most out of my remaining time here—apparently, I was determined to prove that point by going all out today! And what an amazing time I had!

I kicked off today by meeting my friend BC for coffee at LJ’s. She and I first met during my trip to Morocco and, like me, she’s an American studying abroad (in Ireland). We spent about 2 hours, just catching up and chatting about the similarities of our experience over caffeinated beverages and ginger bread.

Eventually it was time to part ways and so, after bidding one another adieu, I set off on the rest of my adventure. I’ve been meaning to spend some time in the Southwark area since arriving, but time and energy have simply not been on my side. Determined to rectify this situation, I started walking in that direction from Soho. En route, I made a brief stop at Forbidden Planet, a comic shop I had spotted earlier but hadn’t had time to check out.

Oh. My. Stan. Lee!

In the first few minutes of being there, I had multiple nerdgasms! They had absolutely everything this geek could want: there was a diorama of Yoda’s hut (inside and out, and perfectly sized for the Star Wars toys); statues of various action heroes and villains; a wall of everything Doctor Who related; plush comic book characters and action figures; loads of Star Trek stuff; and, of course, actual comics, books, and related films. 

Being on a tight budget, I restricted myself to two items. One of these was the first book from the Game of Thrones series—I’ve caught up on the television adaptation, and cannot wait to find out what happens, so I’m going to read ahead. The second item I bought was a two-disk She-Ra, Princess of Power DVD set. It’s basically the same ‘Secret of the Sword / Best of…’ set that we got in the states, but what caught my attention was the cover artwork: the Sorceress of Castle Grayskull was on there. Based on that alone (well, that and the £4 pricetag), I knew I had to have it! Imagine my further delighted surprise then, when I opened the pack and found that the disk images were the Sorceress and Shadow Weaver—my two favorite POP characters! #YAY!

Eventually I pulled myself away from Forbidden Planet, and resumed my journey to Southwark. 

Ultimately, I decided to go by the Tate Modern finally. Now, I should preface all of this by saying that I’m not the world’s biggest modern art fan. In fact, I’m not even the world’s biggest tepid modern art fan. Bottom line: I’m not a fan. But, I knew that I had to give it a shot, as the Tate Modern is one of the most famous art museums in existence. 

Gettin' my modern on...

I confess to enjoying it more than I expected to. The Powers that Be do a really good job of curetting the exhibits—for the most part, it’s really accessible, and ‘they’ provide the necessary historical and artistic insights that make these works of arts understandable to a wider audience. In doing so, they challenge the typical, alienating sense of religiosity and awe contained in most museum settings. I'm a huge fan of this demystification process!

The only downside is that this encourages people to bring their children. Not only is this inconvenient due to their sticky fingers and high-pitched squeals but, also, there’s nothing quite as awkward as realizing that a three year old is staring at you as you admire Paul Delvaux’s ‘Sleeping Venus’ in all her naked glory—‘cause you just know that little brat thinks you’re looking at Venus’ prominently displayed no-no parts when, in fact, you’re attention is drawn to the chick with the fierce red hair who looks like she just stepped out of a Tim Burton film about drag queens. 

But I digress…

There were a couple of pieces I enjoyed, the aforementioned being one of them. Another was Do Ho Suh’s Staircase-III. I was amazed at how detailed it was—including ‘simple’ details like light switches made out of fabric—and how this piece made me feel like I was in some weird dreamlike state. In hindsight, I really regret not getting a photo of it. (A second trip might be required at some point solely for that reason.)

Another work I want to mention, which I enjoyed seeing mostly for the spectacle, was the notorious Damian Hirst’s ‘For the Love of God’ (a.k.a. the crystal skull piece). For those who aren’t familiar, 

For the Love of God is a life-size platinum cast of an eighteenth century human skull, covered by 8,601 flawless diamonds, inset with the original skull’s teeth. At the front of the cranium is a 52.4 carat pink diamond. Since it was first exhibited in 2007, For the Love of God has become one of the most widely recognised works of contemporary art. It represents the artist’s continued interest in mortality and notions of value. Alluding to the iconography of the skull in art as a memento mori—a reminder of the fragility of life—the work can be viewed alternatively as a glorious, devotional, defiant or provocative gesture in the face of death itself. (Tate Modern website)

'For the Love of God' [NB: This image is not mine!]

 

 Now, I’m not here to get into a whole debate about Hirst and his art—I don’t know enough about the man or the topic to do so. That being said, I confess to liking this piece. And it’s for the same reason I like some of his other work that I’ve seen photos of, and even the earlier-mentioned ‘Sleeping Venus’: 

I like my modern art grim. 

You see, I realized today that I’m much more willing to give modern art a chance if it’s filled with dark colors and abject(ified), Gothic imagery. If it’s all simple geometric shapes with no purpose, pained in neon oranges and pinks and yellows, then I want nothing to do with it. Give me depictions that tell a story—about death, or about how shit this life can be sometimes—with dark blacks, and blues, and purples. That, I can appreciate.

But I’ve gone on enough about art. I did a lot more today than just that!

After leaving the Tate, I continued eastward along the Thames, passing the (rebuilt) Globe Theatre along the way. Eventually, I reached the Clink Prison Museum. Nic and I caught a glimpse of this place when we were here back in 2008, but we weren’t able to go in for one reason or another (I think we had tickets to do something that night). I knew that I just had to go there this time.

The Clink is a subterranean prison that was in operation from c.12th Century until 1780. The origins of its name have been lost to time, but it has been speculated that the sound comes from sounds of chains being affixed to prisoners—furthermore, it is from this notorious gaol (jail) that the slang term ‘the clink’ came to symbolize modern jails.

Undoubtedly arrested for public drunkenness...

It’s reputed to be haunted, though I didn’t see any ghosts. Honestly, I was kind of underwhelmed. However, it was pretty interactive—I was able to handle actual (reproductions) of torture devices that were used—and I did learn some new things, too. 

For instance, another common prison-related term used today—‘the hole’—can be linked back to the Clink. Except, rather than being solitary confinement (as we might understand it today), this was literally a hole that prisoners were shoved into and forgotten about. 

At high tide, the polluted water from the Thames would fill the hole almost completely, but not enough to drown (most of) the prisoners—instead, they succumbed to either hunger or various diseases they contracted from the water (e.g., Dysentery). It was also not uncommon for prisoners in the hole to become so waterlogged that their skin would literally begin to rot while they were still living. Terrifying!

The Hole! (You can't see it here, but the pit is filled with water.)

After touring the Clink, I climbed back up to the street level and started toward my next destination. I wrapped around the Golden Hinde, crossed London Bridge (which thankfully did not fall), passed the Monument to the Great London Fire of 1666, and finally arrived at St Paul’s Cathedral.

I arrived in time for the Evensong Service, which meant that I didn’t have to pay to get in (the main reason I hadn’t visited prior). I was able to go in and look around a bit, but there wasn’t really anything interesting that caught my attention. 

Don’t get me wrong: it’s absolutely gorgeous inside, and reminded me of so many pictures of the Vatican that I’ve seen over the years. Everything was a crisp white, glistening gold, or polished onyx—a far cry from the stony interior of Westminster Abbey, for instance. Nonetheless, I just didn’t have a desire to stay, and so I sneaked out before the service started.

St Paul's Interior

 From there I made my way through Trafalgar Square—passing the Royal Courts of Justice en route—and down to the Horse Guards Parade and Whitehall / 10 Downing Street. 

Regarding the former, today this is where the annual Trooping the Colour ceremony—which officially marks the Sovereign’s birthday—takes place, but in the past it was used for other events as well (e.g., jousts held for King Henry VIII). 

The latter site is the home of Britain’s Prime Minister. Sadly, you cannot see his exact residence from the road—the gate at the edge of the street is as close as you can get.

And, finally, I concluded my day by taking a brief stroll through St James’s Park, where I once again snapped lots of bird photos. But I also did this for another reason: for myriad reasons, I’ve found myself in St James’s Park about once a month throughout my stay. The photos I’ve taken there somewhat show the changing of the seasons, and will serve as a nice, overarching reminder of my time here.

St James's Park with Buckingham Palace

Okay, it’s late and I’m exhausted—and no wonder: GoogleMaps tells me I walked over 8 miles today—time to wrap this up! 

Today's Trip

Until next time…

What's Curry Got To Do With It?

I’m back with another entry. Truth be told, everything I’m about to say deserves a lot more ‘oomph’ than what I’m about to give it—but, I’ve spent most of the last two weeks (including most of yesterday and today) writing about discursive representations of the intersection between gayness and AIDS as part of two separate final projects. 

In other words: my brain is so far beyond mush that words do not even exist to describe it.

Nonetheless, there’s a lot that I haven’t blogged about this month, and I’m feeling a lot of pressure from ‘Future Brett’ to document it all in one form or another while it’s relatively fresh in my mind. Thus, I offer the explosion of information presented here. 

Let’s get started, shall we…

On Sunday, 15 April, I accompanied EN to a theatre performance she’s been interning with throughout the semester. The show is called Soul Sister, and is the story of Tina Turner’s relationship with Ike, as told by the former while backstage during her ‘Private Dancer’ tour. 

Most people already know the troubled tale of Ike and Tina Turner, so I won’t go into that here (though I will say that the first act in particular was far more forgiving of Ike than I expected). Instead, I want to focus on two particular aspects of the show: the actress playing Tina, and the ending:

The role of Tina was given to Emi Wokoma (who, ironically, played the sister of Tameka Empson’s ‘Kim’ on EastEnders). The Guardian reviewed Wokoma’s turn as Turner thusly: 

[Wokoma’s] impersonation of Anna Mae Bullock, renamed Tina Turner when she started singing with Ike Turner, is startling. She's got that strange, stiff-legged dance – the one that looks like a man who's left the urinal too soon – and the flutters of the hands. And she's got a voice that can strip paint or sing a lullaby within the same bar. (Soul Sister Review)

I admit that I was a bit concerned with Wokoma at the start. The opening number is ‘Private Dancer,’ one of my favorites. Wokoma’s rendition wasn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination, but it also wasn’t great—I felt as if she wasn’t warmed up yet. Fortunately, after that number, the songs performed are basically in chronological order, and follow Anna Mae’s rise to prominence. This gave Wokoma the chance to warm-up her Turner impression, as her character also developed her unique style. By the time ‘River Deep, Mountain High’ was performed, audiences could be easily excused for forgetting that the real Tina wasn’t on stage.

[NB: This is not my photo.]

This brings us to the other point I wanted to bring up about the show: the ending. As previously noted, the story is told from the point-of-view of Turner, who is relating events to a friend backstage between sets. Upon concluding her tale, Turner returns to her (fictionalized) concert—whereupon the theatre audience becomes a concert audience!

The last 15-20 minutes of the show is just like a traditional concert. There is no narrative: just Wokoma—accompanied by a band, backup singers, and flashing laser-lights—recreating Turner’s early-80s comeback tour. Traditional Tina favorites—such as ‘Simply the Best’, ‘I Can't Stand the Rain’, ‘Help’, and, of course, ‘Proud Mary’—drove audiences to their feet. No lie. There were even encore songs, in true concert style: ‘Steamy Windows’ and ‘What’s Love Got to Do With It?’

‘Awesome’ doesn’t even begin to describe the experience. All I can say is that if you’re in London, and are even remotely a Tina Turner fan, you must see this show!

After Soul Sister, EN and I were ridin’ high, as concert goers typically are right after a show lets out. So, we headed over to Soho and a bar there called 79CXR. This particular bar was billed in one of the local rags as offering gay karaoke, and we thought it might be fun to check that out. 

I’d say we had a decent time: drinks were cheap even if the singing was painful. Also, it wasn’t crowded—almost always a perk. When the karaoke wrapped-up at around 9:00 PM, Bette Rinse (the drag queen emcee) organized a group of fellow queens and locals for a queer version of ‘Match Game.’ Sadly, it was all a bit lost on EN and I, as neither of us were familiar enough with the local drag scene to get the references to specific community members. Ah, well. It was still interesting.

Okay, I’m going to totally change topics now. (Like I said, there’s a lot to catch-up on!)

On Thursday, 19 April, two of my friends from Chicago—TS and his partner, BH—flew in to London for the latter’s birthday weekend. I was fortunate enough to see them on three of the four days they were here.

That first day (Thursday) was a bit rough for me. I didn’t sleep well the night before, and had zero desire to go to school that morning. Nonetheless, I made the long slog there…only to learn that one of my two classes that day had been cancelled. Now, this isn’t a problem in-and-of-itself. The class in question is my least favorite (‘Cultural Power & Resistance in the 21st Century’—not nearly as interesting as it sounds). Nonetheless, the scheduled lecture for that day would likely have been beneficial for my final essay. Ah, well. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I got caught in a downpour on my way home. I. Was. Drenched…and unhappy. 

Unhappy and Soaking Wet.

Fortunately, seeing two familiar faces was just the boon that my spirits needed. We headed into Soho to grab a couple of cocktails at Village, and from there we went to Maison Touareg for dinner. I was uber-excited for this, because I had wanted to check out Maison Touareg since coming back from Morocco, and was merely waiting for the right ‘excuse’ to do so. It was sooooo delicious! Wonderful company was made even better by amazing food and wine. My only complaint is that we were seated beneath the speakers, and the music grew a bit loud when the belly-dancer (whose skills were mostly lost on us) came out. Other than that, it was perfect!

Friday, 20 April, marked the last official day of classes at UEL! My exams aren’t due until this week, but classes have concluded. As my Friday class (‘Realism, Fantasy & Utopia’) was my favorite, this was a bit of a bittersweet moment. I’ll talk more about all that in a later entry, though. After class, I returned to my flat, where my housemates were already in weekend-party-mode. Ugh, it was so loud! For the second day in a row, I found myself highly agitated.

Fortunately, TS and BH invited me to join them once again! This time we went to Cinnamon, an Indian restaurant near Oxford Circus. Once again, I had an amazing time! The food was good (albeit a bit spicy): we shared a plate of ‘BALLS!’ (as listed)—potato, beef, vegetable, and Bangla-Scotch egg—and for the main course I ordered a plate of ‘Old Delhi-style tandoori fenugreek chicken’ (whatever all that means). 

Even better than the food, though, were the drinks. I stuck to water (I had to be up early the next day), but I did have a sip of both TS’ and BH’s drinks—if anyone’s interested, Cinnamon offers the best mojito in the history of forever. After dinner we headed over to the Duke of Wellington (another gay pub) for a last round of drinks going our separate ways.

I’m going to skip saying anything about Saturday, 21 April, as that will get its own entry owing to a trip to Windsor Castle. As for Sunday, I had one last opportunity to see TS and BH before they headed back to Chicago. We met for bagels and coffee at Beigel Bake in Shoreditch. Apparently, this is the oldest bagel place in London. It’s also one of the cheapest places I’ve been in London—but so worth it! I got an éclair (how could I resist?), and it was one of the most scrumptious sweets I’ve eaten since being here! Yummy-yummy! From there, we walked over to Old Spitalfields’ Market, where we walked around for a few minutes before bidding on another adieu! All in all, it was a wonderful visit, and so nice to see friends from home! 

And, on that happy note, I will also say farewell to this entry. I’ve finally gotten ‘Future Brett’ off my back for a bit, and can realx…for now—there’s still a lot to tell about, including my trip to Windsor, the results of my midterms, and my hurried escape from my flat!

But that’ll have to wait a bit longer…

A Big Ol' Gay Blow-Up Man

Time for another exciting(?) entry in ye olde blog—namely because I’m in need of another break from academics. This time the focus will be the evening of Monday, 16 April 2012 (through the early morning hours of 17 April).

But I need to back up for a second. You see, two of my modules over here—‘Realism, Fantasy & Utopia’ and ‘Cultural Politics’—have enabled me to meet some really cool people. In fact, the majority of new friendships established since coming to London have been borne of the former.

One of said-friendships is with a lovely young woman named RAS. I was fortunate enough to snag a seat next to her on the first day of class, and during a group exercise that same day we got to chatting after I complimented her on the fabulous silver scorpion ring she was wearing. The rest, as they say, is history. Over time—and through RAS—I have come to form friendships with most of the others who sit in the front row. (And yes, we do represent the stereotypical front row kids—to the point where DS preempts us from answering her questions by automatically saying that she’ll ‘come back to the front row’ after giving others a chance to answer.)

Anyway, I’ve gone off track…

Relatively early in the semester, I was shocked to learn that RAS has never been to a club before. Ever. Not a straight club; not a gay club. She’s over 21 years of age—how the bloody hell does that happen?

So of course, I set about trying to rectify this grave oversight. It took time, to be sure: a constant mixture of guilt over my impending departure, and reassurance that I would protect her like a drag queen protects her tips. 

Eventually—on 16 April—I succeeded!

That night, we met at Village (which is tied with Heaven for my favorite queer London haunt), where drinks were half-priced all night. The only downside was that the level with the dancefloor was closed off, and the DJ I like so much there (Ray Isaac) wasn’t playing. 

At any rate, we were joined by two others from the ‘RF&U’ module—AR and (later) SV—as well as another of RAS’ friends, SB. Thus, the good times (and drinks) began to roll…

Me, AR, RAS, and SB

 The fact that my London drink of choice was only £2 that night, coupled with the other fact that the bartender seemingly thought I was cute and was therefore being generous with the vodka-to-juice ratio, led to a quickly tipsy Brettsy. Fortunately, I was still fairly in control at this point, and so the pix RAS snapped throughout the night aren’t quite as…problematic as they became later in the evening.

Sober Brett

Drunker Brett

 Eventually, both SV and AR had to leave (they had classes the next morning), and soon thereafter Village started closing down for the night. So, the question became: shall we go elsewhere, or head home? Fortunately, her first venue successfully visited sans-drama, RAS agreed to go elsewhere.

We wound up at G-A-Y, which we didn’t stay at for too long—only long enough for one drink apiece, as I recall. But, at least we could dance for a bit…

After G-A-Y, we still weren’t ready to go, and so the decision was made to walk toward Heaven, where I figured we could dance the night right away... Unfortunately, the lesbian doorguard had other plans. Said-doorguard let RAS and me in with no problem, but for some reason she decided that SB was under the influence and therefore could not come in. (For the record, SB was probably the most sober of us all—I think the doorguard was just jealous of her Troll Doll hairband.) At any rate, we were advised to go to the nearby McDonalds, get food, and come back in 20 minutes, at which point we would be allowed in.

So, we headed to McD’s—something I have avoided them like the plague since coming here—and got a quick meal. We sat there for the required 20 minutes, eating and chatting, and (in my case) being repeated punched in the arm by a drunken Frenchman whose friends kept trying to distract him from beating me and apologizing on his behalf.

Upon finishing, we headed back to Heaven…but, again, the doorguard refused SB entrance (and added insult to injury by pretending that she had told SB specifically not to come back). Well, their loss was G-A-Y Late’s gain, ‘cause that’s where we headed next.

This, our last stop of the evening, turned out to be a nice mix of the earlier chilled atmosphere from Village and the dancing opportunity offered by G-A-Y. We wound up staying until they closed, dancing badly—mostly on the elevated platform—to equally bad songs seemingly chosen by a straight man. 

There’s video of all this, but fortunately (and thanks to a few death threats) it will never be seen. (Apparently, when intoxicated to the point I was that night, I lose all arm and wrist bones, and turn into one of those blow-up figures used to sell used cars…a big ol’ queer, purple one! It’s a problem!)

One of the less-problematic photos to come from this night...

Sadly, the time came eventually to depart. I had zero desire to take the bus all the way back to Newham, and so I took SB up on her kind offer to crash at her place along with RAS. For anyone interested in a fun mental picture: just imagine me—fully dressed, because I wasn’t planning on staying out all night—sandwiched between a straight woman and a lesbian in a full-sized bed. It was quite the sight to behold, I’m sure!

And on that interesting note, another entry comes to a close. I suppose now’s as good a time as any to get back to the academic writing that I should be doing right now… 

Ciao!

From One Collection of Priceless Things To Another...

Ugh, I’ve been so lax lately in terms of blogging. Well, not just blogging—pretty much everything. It’s nearing the end of the semester, and it’s been particularly gray, cold, and rainy the last few weeks, so the motivation to do things is practically non-existent.

But I hope to rectify that now, and invite you to travel with me back in time, to Thursday, 12 April 2012:

My original plan for the last Thursday of Easter Break was to spend some time typing away on one of my final coursework assignments (CW2). However, the rain and the cold were making me more inclined to just stay in bed and do nothing. Fortunately, EN lit a fire under my behind with a text inviting me to go with her to a museum. 

A short while later, we met at the Victoria & Albert museum. The V&A had been on my list of places to see since the beginning. Nic and I attempted to go there back in 2008 but, having just spent hours at the British Museum, we changed our mind at the last moment. As such, I was really looking forward to it this time…

I should have remembered my experience with the Dickens Museum, another tourist attraction I had desperately wanted to see.

Sadly, in case you haven't already guessed, I didn’t really enjoy myself. There was so much to see, but the way it was curated and exhibited just felt…lackluster. However, to be fair, my point-of-view was probably the result of being under the spell of a rainy day malaise coupled with a desperate need for coffee. 

Also, the exhibit I had been looking forward to for months (and part of the reason I put off the trip for as long as I did)—the photographs of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, taken by Cecil Beaton—was not free after all, and I didn’t want to drop £6 just to see a bunch of photos (even if they are amazing). 

The third one from the left (top row) is one of my favorites--but I cannot find a close-up of it by itself anywhere.

Sir Beaton was quite the hottie in his youth!

Again, this decision was probably influenced by my insufficient levels of caffeine and joy.

In the end, we only stayed for about 1.5 hours. I feel kind of bad that we didn’t stay longer—especially given the V&A’s reputation—but I just didn’t have it in me that day. Maybe I’ll go back at some point before heading home.

Upon leaving the V&A, EN and I started wandering around Kensington and Chelsea. We wanted a cup of coffee, and eventually found one at a nearby Costa—the situation was dire, hence my ready agreement to break the rule I’ve generally tried to keep while in London of avoiding chains.

After sufficient java-infusion, and a long chat about growing up in the church and the damage caused by being too close to the internal politics therein, we continued walking around (in much happier moods).

Eventually we found ourselves standing before one of London’s most famous stores: Harrods. All I can say is: oh. my. goodness. It was breathtaking, and in many places possessed a…unique Egyptian theme.

Beneath the Egyptian escalator--he was taller than me.

You can't tell from this photo, but there's a mannequin on this balcony promoting clothes sold on that floor.

My mother likes to tell a story about how, as a young child, she was once told that Heaven would look however she wanted, and how it would be filled with whatever she wanted most. To her young mind this vision translated to an upmarket department store she used to visit with her grandmother, which had Heaven’s very best hamburgers resting in the glistening display cases, just waiting to be eaten. (Sounds like a pretty good idea of Heaven to me!)

Harrods was kind of like that to me in certain ways. Namely, the prices were so far beyond anything I could comprehend that it seemed unreal and out-of-this-world. Case-in-point: a simple, black hair-comb—no bigger than the average mobile, and unadorned—was priced in excess of £200! A simple pair of gray sweatpants for men…£119. (Don’t believe me, see them for yourself here.) Oh, and have I mentioned the fact that there was not a single person working in that store who wasn’t a modern day Apollo or Aphrodite?

Now, I confess that I somewhat expected what I found—I knew of Harrods’ reputation—but there was another reason why I wanted to visit this famous shop: the memorial to Princess Diana and Dodi Fayed. You see, Mohamed Al-Fyed—Dodi’s father—was the owner of Harrods until recently. He has always maintained that there was more to their deaths than what the public has been told, and in 1998—in fact, it was 12 April 1998, 14 years to the day before EN and I saw it—he unveiled the first of two memorials dedicated to Diana and Dodi within his store.

The memorial described above (and seen in the photo below) features photos of the pair, as well as a pyramidal container holding a wine glass that is—allegedly—smudged with Diana's lipstick because she used it at her last meal, as well as an engagement ring Dodi reportedly bought the day before their death.

The memorial.

After cruising around Harrods' world-famous food court, and through the wonderful housewares section (where they were playing the theme from Twin Peaks), we bid adieu to heavenly Harrods, and continued walking east.

Our next top was another famous shop: Harvey Nichols. I have to admit that I expected something a bit more, especially given its reputation on Absolutely Fabulous. It actually reminded me a bit (in terms of physical layout and the style of clothing) of the Bloomingdales that used to be in White Flint mall back home. That being said, I can totally see why it’s the perfect go-to story for the Pats and Eddy characters—in fact, the mannequins all looked remarkably like Eddy! 

So this isn't a mannequin--but it is a Harvey Nichs ad!

Having poked around two upmarket shops since our last taste caffeine boost, EN and I headed out and made our way to LJ’s, and enjoyed an Americano and White Hot Chocolate, respectively.

It was the perfect ending to what turned out to be—after a lackluster start—quite a fun day!