00:25 – 17/9/2016
Just a quickie as it’s midnight and I’ve somehow managed to wile away another day of my short, precious life here on Earth by doing nothing of significant importance.
Well, actually, I walked around eight miles today through London. I went to see Marc Bolan’s memorial tree in Putney this morning on an act of total impulse. It was a grey day but it wasn’t raining, so there was no real excuse to stay inside pretending to do work. He died 39 years ago yesterday, so I put The Slider on, brushed my teeth and got on the 270.
Although it was so lovely to see the tributes that make up this very glittery fan-made shrine, I had spent an hour or so travelling there and less than five minutes at the site itself, so I began to walk on as to extend the ‘being outside’ part of the day to its full potential.
Soon after, it had been no less than two hours since I’d last eaten, so I found a cheap enough cafe in Putney where I had a jacket potato and a cappuccino and read the Saturday papers. I didn’t ask for a cappuccino, mind – I asked for a cup of tea – but that’s what the waitress offered unto me and I didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d got it wrong. She did give me a funny look when I was ordering, I thought. I am NOT the sort of person who would order a cappuccino with a main meal! A cappuccino is a BEDTIME drink! I’m Italian! Alas, this waitress would always think I was just someone who’d never been out for a meal before, ordering frothy coffee-flavoured milk to accompany a spud. Oh, well, I suppose. Life plods on.
And so I plod along with it, zigzagging several miles through Fulham, Chelsea and Kensington. I felt like Oliver Twist when he heads to Brownlow’s pad. But with a fake Jagger swagger. Very poor, nonetheless.
So, yeah, it was actually a well spent day. I didn’t expect to be out for so long – I got in at gone nine – but it became quite hard to give up walking once I got into it. There was a way back home every few hundred metres (helllloooo TfL, big up, big up) but I was never quite ready to head back. The final stretch, before I succumbed to London’s underground, was a stroll through Hyde Park. The air was wet and misty. Three weeks into living here, everything felt enormously good. I recently spent a couple of weeks visiting some of the most beautiful cities in Europe, but I feel like I’ve won big by winding up living in London at the end of it.
I thought I’d share with you some things I’ve been up to since I moved her
1) Listening to: … and the Anonymous Nobody – De La Soul
Alice text me one day to ask if I’d heard the new De La Soul album, and I hadn’t, because I’d been too busy unpacking and generally not being able to get my priorities right. I pretty much downloaded it instantly (it’s a life-long goal of mine to seek Alice’s full approval) and I love it! I love it so much I wrote close to 700 words about it (that’s real love, yo), words that you can read here.
2) Saw: The Beatles: Eight Days a Week – The Touring Years
This was shown in cinemas for one night only last Thursday, and I happily parted with my hard-earned savings to sit front row at the Wimbledon Odeon (tickets were expensive, but maybe that’s just through my newly-student-status eyes). I had been looking forward to seeing this for about a month, so when the day came, I woke up with my toes wriggling (this is a real thing, btw).
I actually went on a date that night too, and the dude was all like: “It’ll be more fun than going to the cinema on your own, see you at 7”, and I was all: “Er, nothing will be more fun than going to see a Beatles documentary on my own, sorry about it, see you at 9:30”.
Anyway, I’m not going to ‘review’ it as such, as if you want to see it, you’ve half missed your chance (you can probably find some bootleg online) – but I’m such a die-hard fan of the band it’d be an impossible review to write.
It was, however, such a good effort to compile so much unseen Beatles footage of the period of the band’s life that, was, well, total mania. Of course, the most endearing thing about the Beatles was how unfazed they seemed by the chaos of their lives during the first half of the ‘60s. Paul sums it up perfectly when he responds to a very RP BBC interviewer with: “Culture? This isn’t culture! It’s just a good laugh”.
Seeing the Beatles having a giggle will always make my heart beat hard under my chest like I’m 16 years old in 1963. It were mint.
3) Reading: 1996: The Year the Decade Exploded – Jon Savage
I’m 95 pages in after a week, but I’m happy with that – this book is not short on detail. It’s a 595-page book about pop music in ONE YEAR, but it’s so well researched and reads so well that I’ve enjoyed allowing an hour or so each night to dive nose-first into it. More as it comes.
Until next time,