I had the pleasure last weekend of going to Scotland for the first time (shameful I haven’t visited before, I know). SiC’s friend G is from Aberdeen, and since his parents are sensibly in Florida for the winter he invited us up to stay in their house. The house is obscenely large and overlooks a lovely river. The hospitality was top notch, in fact, except for the small inconvenience of the boiler having broken down before we arrived. Scotland in January is properly cold even by Canadian standards, and with the installation of a paddling pool the house would have made a family of penguins very happy indeed. The repairman came out, but after poking around inside the boiler for half an hour he declared it a lost cause – the pump would have to be replaced on Monday. We spent the weekend in the kitchen with the oven on and the gas stove lit, trying to keep our feet off the linoleum floor.
I think I need to stop travelling for a while.
Although Kilburn isn’t exactly the place to be these days either: my friends seem to be in a uniform state of crisis, constantly in need of a shoulder to cry on and a sofa to crash on and money to live on. Being the sensible, grown-up one in my little gang of cronies has lost its novelty value, and I’m getting sick of trying to find polite ways of suggesting that maybe it’s time to go home now and please don’t cut coke on my dinner table.
London in general is starting to get on my tits. Taking the Tube in rush hour every day leaves me feeling like I’ve been punched in the face. All I want is for people to stop jostling me, nudging me, leaning on me, chewing their gum in my ear, hitting me with their newspapers, bumping me with their rucksacks, stepping on my feet, elbowing me, and reading over my shoulder. Is that so much to ask? I’m thinking of carrying a shield with me every day like the ones riot police carry, except instead of reading ‘POLICE’ it would read ‘PERSONAL SPACE’. Or maybe I could just put Ben Hur spikes on my elbows. Or somehow could I make my skin convey electric shocks? Things to think about.
This weekend I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. I’m planning to be ever so quiet and well-behaved, and please stop rolling your eyes I can see you from here. Ta-ta.