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Jul. 23rd, 2010 11:44 pmTo London to meet up with Kasia. We met, thanks to texting each other, by the Ixxy's bagel shop at Victoria station, then agreed on a coffee as planned so, after scanning the place for coffee outlets, headed into Cafe Ritazza. We spent the whole afternoon chatting mostly about our experiences of London, especially Kasia's tales of her holiday job as a tour guide, as we travelled around the metropolis. From the coffee shop we went on to Sarah Kane's flat in Brixton, one of those basement flats of a Victorian terraced house reached by a staircase at the front. The door of the flat looks like it hasn't seen a coat of paint for quite a while, and the blinds were down with no sign of life or light inside, so we wondered whether anyone currently lives there. As we were sitting on the front steps of the main house continuing our conversation, Kasia mentioned that she needed to go to Baker Street some time during her stay to get a music box as a gift for her co-worker roommate. I said I was happy to go today, so we took the tube there and walked along to the Sherlock Holmes Museum, where she'd taken a party of students yesterday.
The queue outside was a mile long so we gave the museum a miss and headed straight for its shop, which turned out to be where the music boxes were sold - little silver piano rolls with ten tiny metal rods. There were about 15 different tunes on offer : Kasia was fascinated by the little things and played each one, except the ones that played Christmas music. She'd never heard of Somewhere Over The Rainbow so I told her it was a well known song that Eva Cassidy had had a hit with. I think she'd heard of her. Seeing me eyeing up the Sherlock Holmes books on sale, Kasia said to me how she always has to resist buying books when she's here as she always wants to buy so many that they'd make her luggage too heavy. I said I knew where she was coming from, telling her about my own spending spree on books on the trip to Scotland.
Next Kasia wanted to walk and relax in one of the royal parks; she'd been in Hyde Park yesterday and Regent's Park was just one tube stop away, so we went there. On the way into Baker Street station the tempting aroma of Belgian waffles from the Belgian Food Company kiosk gave me a massive craving, but Kasia had casually mentioned half an hour ago that she wasn't hungry. Kasia initially fancied walking all the way up to the Free Money Drinking Fountain, but a few hundred yards from it she suggested we sit down, so we plonked ourselves on a nearby bench. She explained that she had a gammy leg today - as do I - and we just sat watching the people go by, discussing London fringe theatre and literature and she asking me a little about my work. She got a passing American tourist to take a photo of us on her camera then we took a leisurely stroll back to the tube.
It was great to finally meet Kasia after six years of e-mails, I thoroughly enjoyed spending the afternoon with her and we'll certainly stay in touch, but the shippers at my office are going to be disappointed as there's clearly only friendship happening here. By the time we said our goodbyes back at Victoria, it was past six so, alas, I didn't really have time to scoot up to Bond Street tube and get a Belgian waffle.
Had I only known, in the event I could easily have gone for a waffle, as my Greyhound's driver got stuck in traffic on the way up so my bus had to be delayed by half an hour to give the driver his statutory 45 minute break. When we finally boarded, the bus was chock full, and I'd no sooner sat down at the back than two girls came up and - admittedly opening with "This is going to sound rude" - asked me if I'd move so they could sit together. I did, though darkly thinking one of them could at least have offered to help me carry my stuff to where I ended up. The bus being full, I had no chance of bagging a double seat anyway (I am one of Ben Elton's "Double seat, double seat, gotta get a double seat" people) so I slid in beside a quiet lady buried in a newspaper. My leg ache played up all through the journey back but at least music courtesy of my iPod made it bearable.
The queue outside was a mile long so we gave the museum a miss and headed straight for its shop, which turned out to be where the music boxes were sold - little silver piano rolls with ten tiny metal rods. There were about 15 different tunes on offer : Kasia was fascinated by the little things and played each one, except the ones that played Christmas music. She'd never heard of Somewhere Over The Rainbow so I told her it was a well known song that Eva Cassidy had had a hit with. I think she'd heard of her. Seeing me eyeing up the Sherlock Holmes books on sale, Kasia said to me how she always has to resist buying books when she's here as she always wants to buy so many that they'd make her luggage too heavy. I said I knew where she was coming from, telling her about my own spending spree on books on the trip to Scotland.
Next Kasia wanted to walk and relax in one of the royal parks; she'd been in Hyde Park yesterday and Regent's Park was just one tube stop away, so we went there. On the way into Baker Street station the tempting aroma of Belgian waffles from the Belgian Food Company kiosk gave me a massive craving, but Kasia had casually mentioned half an hour ago that she wasn't hungry. Kasia initially fancied walking all the way up to the Free Money Drinking Fountain, but a few hundred yards from it she suggested we sit down, so we plonked ourselves on a nearby bench. She explained that she had a gammy leg today - as do I - and we just sat watching the people go by, discussing London fringe theatre and literature and she asking me a little about my work. She got a passing American tourist to take a photo of us on her camera then we took a leisurely stroll back to the tube.
It was great to finally meet Kasia after six years of e-mails, I thoroughly enjoyed spending the afternoon with her and we'll certainly stay in touch, but the shippers at my office are going to be disappointed as there's clearly only friendship happening here. By the time we said our goodbyes back at Victoria, it was past six so, alas, I didn't really have time to scoot up to Bond Street tube and get a Belgian waffle.
Had I only known, in the event I could easily have gone for a waffle, as my Greyhound's driver got stuck in traffic on the way up so my bus had to be delayed by half an hour to give the driver his statutory 45 minute break. When we finally boarded, the bus was chock full, and I'd no sooner sat down at the back than two girls came up and - admittedly opening with "This is going to sound rude" - asked me if I'd move so they could sit together. I did, though darkly thinking one of them could at least have offered to help me carry my stuff to where I ended up. The bus being full, I had no chance of bagging a double seat anyway (I am one of Ben Elton's "Double seat, double seat, gotta get a double seat" people) so I slid in beside a quiet lady buried in a newspaper. My leg ache played up all through the journey back but at least music courtesy of my iPod made it bearable.
