Returning to London feel like I have entered a parallel world, where it’s the same year, the same Earth, only different dimensions.
Credit for the second half of that sentence should go to the writers of the 90s sci-fi show, Sliders.
It feels odd being back after so long away. Everything is similar, but also very different. I was in a very familiar part of Tottenham on Friday night where I have family. This is also the same place I was house-sitting in 2011 when the property turned out to be infested with fleas and I ended up covered in thousands of bites over three weeks.
This particular area has proven highly resilient to gentrification, but that force has finally come. A former public toilet is now a restaurant. I would hope that standards have improved inside, but I never visited there in its previous form. And many of the old man local pubs are now filled by much younger clientele with shiny degrees and ironic hair cuts.
I don’t know what I was expecting, exactly. London is in a constant state of change, more so than most other cities. Any time away means things are going to be different. When that time is seven and a half years, there will inevitably be larger and more noticeable changes.
Doing gigs again also feels like being transported to another reality, where it’s old the same year and the same material, only different faces inside. At my first gig as a resident of London in almost eight years, I felt like I was back in the early days of 2010 when I’d turn up to a gig in the room above a pub and not know anyone. Both gigs I’ve done so far have been fun and I’m hoping it’s not going to take me too long to get back up to speed. After all, that is my main reason for returning. Or it was my original plan.
Flat out
In my flat, redecoration works are now complete and I am slowly but surely starting to equip it with furniture.
A few weeks ago, I spent an arduous nine hours trying to assemble the bed I’d ordered. I didn’t expect it to arrive entirely in wooden planks. DIY is unlikely to ever be one of my strengths. Case in point, my tools consisted of a screwdriver, some nail clippers, and a tablespoon. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t go well.
But at the end of a long and very sweaty day, the bed was just about built. It didn’t look perfect, but it was pretty much there.
Then in the final stages, out of sheer desperation, I disobeyed the instructions and used some screws to make sure the headboard was attached.
I then placed my new mattress on as the finishing touch… only to have the end end of the bed fall off.
I tried to reattach it, but then the struts came out of the headboard and it was all out of alignment. I wasn’t going to be sleeping on that. Admitting defeat, it was another night on the airbed for me.
Thankfully, my old friend, Nigel Lovell, came by the next day and sorted the bed out. He said he was amazed I’d gotten so far with it, despite getting everything wrong – which also applies to many aspects of my life.