Home » Musings » London is, well, big, it’s well big

Heathcote StLondon’s a pretty big place.

We have a map of the world in our bathroom (I would highly recommend this (and I don’t mean getting any old map or indeed a bathroom, I mean putting a map in your bathroom), particularly if you’re a man and like ours it is hung directly above the toilet, obviously it is recommended for ladies too, but where ours is hung, they’d see it less, than men, anyway, err, I think we’re straying from the point), ah yes, a world map in our bathroom, when I look at the UK on the map though, it looks small (the -ahem- map), so how can London be so big? In many ways London is like a Tardis, it is bigger when you’re inside it, you’ll have to trust me on this one…. sure London’s a big place, I am sure wikipediaring it would give us the exact dimensions (and where’s the fun in that, there’s no fun in that, although there is a hat in that, and hat’s are cool, any hat really, I think I am going into my hat phase). It is only when you have to get from A to B in London -on foot- that you get to appreciate the bigness of it all, and I should know, I have lived in London all my life (and anyone that says Essex isn’t London I say to them ‘anything that is on the Underground map is London my friend, eat that (metaphorically)) ahhh I love a double bracket)) ahhhh yeahhh.

So I really am a Londoner (I have a badge to prove it, alright it’s a batman symbol, but it was made in London, and if you squint really hard sometimes at it, particularly late at night, (when Bats does his best work it has to be said) it says London), anywayyy, I know London is huge because it is even possible for me to see new places in London that I’ve never seen before. Take this morning for example (go on take it, I said taaaakeeee it), there I was trained delayed the usual kerfuffle on the choob (also spelt tube elsewhere, in books and things, just things), and I thought, you know what, I have my scarf, I got my choons (also spelt tunes I’ve been told, I mean, I have really been told – use choon and no-one will have a new shmoo Danny La Rue what the Hefner you’re on about you big bollard obsessive). So there I strolled through the misty London morn (ma heart’s a thumpin’ n’ youuuu), but hahah I will not go the normal route sir, for that is the route of a crazy person (+ the creativity bible told me not to, it told me to go to a new place, wasn’t sure if that was metaphorical or literal) so off I strolled through the metropolis that is old London towwwwnnnn, the big smoke, Londinium, the bloated orange (ok, it’s not called that by a lot of people admittedly, ok none in fact))))) ahhhhh brackets.

This particular morning I walked through the back streets of Euston to route the way through to the city, I cut through a spooky green square that was bordered with old grave stones (the graveyard was graveyarding away behind I think), it was a windy morning so all the leaves were spookily flying around everyone, I think there was a little dog that nearly got blown away, and I actually got whammed in the face by a leaf (that actually happened, really, it’s like the thing you see in a Carry-On film or something, I wiped it away without anyone tittering, not that they would have twittered, they’re all too polite and pretended not to notice my awkward leaf moment, am still getting over it actually) I wasn’t sure if there was an exit to the square, but yes, wait for it wait for itttt, ahhhh yes, a way out, I looked back to see if I did the route in reverse later that day what to look for, and behold when I turned around the green square had dissappeared, there was just some bins and a lost cat pottering ove some fish bones (yes really). I stopped a nearby lady with a baby in a pram ‘Excuse me’ said I a young jovial chap, ‘Is there a green square near here with a graveyard in it’ the lady sped away quickly like she was being chased, looking back every second to see if I was following. Honestly. A green square dissappears and when you try and identify some simple run-of-the-mill paranormal (always thought that should be para-ab-normal) activity and they mistake you for a loony, typical, but now (silver cloud thinking) I know now how the train loony in ghost feels (it’s not his fault that he’s like that, everyone ignored him, because umm he was a ghost, they couldn’t see him, GEDDDDOFFFFAAAAMYYYYTRAINNNN, he had a point).

I carried on this jolly jaunt and saw a cracker of a spot, above the street sign high up on a town house the enterprising residents had inserted a windmill spinny thing, you know the things, next to the street sign, ahhhh, that is so cool, so lovely, I love that street, I love everyone in it, that must be like the best street to live in ever, I stopped to take a picture, and of course at that exact moment, a resident looked out of their window, clocked me taking a picture seemingly of them, and well they gave me a look that I’ll be frank (if you’ll be Shirley) was not pleasant, that look spat fire, there were clearly mouthed swear words (and I mean words plural, I suddenly realised how good I was at lip reading, before, I thought ahhh, move on Skatey move on quick smart).

I strolled a bit further and hello hello ahhh an old street sign, I LOVE old London street signs, why are they there, why aren’t there more of them, why are they so cool, why do I love them, why aren’t I adding question marks, why do I always forget the rules to backgammon, why have I never sat down and played a decent game of chess, they just conjure up so many questions these street signs. They make me think of what that street looked like when they were first erected (the signs, not the street, not sure that streets are erected, what is the word for a street being built, apart from err built, streeted, streetrected, streetbuiltected? I imagine it is the 1950s when everyone was way more polite (it’s a fact, I read it on Wookiepedia, chewbacca’s encyclopedia obvs), said ‘Good day to you sir’ as they strode by and tipped their hat. Ahhhh hats, love hats. Bring hats back, I quite agree.

I bowled along further in me bowler ‘at, and cor blimmin’ ell guvnor if I didn’t see a blue plague of the gentleman himself, Kenneth Williams. Now, here’s a thing. Only the day before I had mentioned to a pal that I was a huge, HUGGGE fan of Kenneth, Mr Williams, I love Kenneth. I’ve read the diaries, the letters, the acid drops, and therefore many times I saw great references to his flat near the Euston road, and here it was in windy blustery daylight, I actually couldn’t adam n’ eve it. This time I didn’t bother even whacking out the phone to take a pic, there was builder-type loitering below the sign, and taking a pic of what would look like him was asking for trouble, he didn’t look like he was gonna move in a hurry neither nay sir, nah mate. Fanks china. I’ll come back another time sunshine.

I passed the joke shop, ok, the magic trick shop (that’s a post for another time), and soon made it to the shop for Friday doughnuts…. they didn’t have any, so I made do with cookies, not as great, buttttt whattya gonna do?

So, in a nutshell (which is where I am currently typing from, it’s quite cosy actually) London, it is massive, and that’s coming from a Londoner. In an orange peel (had to move, the nutshell was to fragile, it was a pistachio (which I find are an excllent prop for making the sound of a small cat approaching when you clippity clop them together), I love it, new things every time you go out, new streets, new signs, new squares, new things, new new, new shmoo, Danny La Rue, Cuthbert, Dibble, Grubb. London – it just keeps on giving, it is massive no matter what the map in my bathroom suggests.

On an unrelated note we have a Wham mirror in the bathroom (to be continued (if you stare at it and sing the chorus to Club Tropicana you get transported into the actual club in the video… post for another time!)))).

2 thoughts on “London is, well, big, it’s well big

  1. Henrietta Lala says:

    I’ve decided you are the White Rabbit crossed with the Mad Hatter infused with the glorious, magical mind of a four year old boy (four year old boys still believe that if they have a cape they can fly, and with the right pajama logo they are superheroes). One should never send little boys to school or work because it will squash the magic right out of them. They should all go out on long walks around places like London while someone with coin buys them pasties, beignets, noodles, and fish and chips at every opportunity. Then all home to write poetry and figure out what the hell a trapezoid is over Mexican hot chocolate and animal crackers shaped like Martians.
    Love yous,
    Granny Lala (Always ready for a walk-about)

    1. Martin Skate Martin Skate says:

      Animal crackers are the work of a clear & unrecognised genius, why did Mr Crackers not get the recoginition of Mr Bourbon & Mr C. Cream, it’s a crime I tells ya. Thanks Granny Lala, talking of pajamas I used to have ‘Mr Men’ wallpaper (Mr Men = UK children’s book series) I would stare at it most nights and join them on their adventures, never underestimate the power of wallpaper methinks. Off for some tea (and animal crackers if there’s any monkeying around in the cupboard). x

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