New Years & New House

I was glad to go to bed that night, glad for the season to be finished, as much as it would be in England – it goes on til the 10th of January here. I went to Hyde Park one day, and Christmas was still milling about, one of those days that made me feel more alone than I already did.

Oh! I sound so woeful! It wasn’t like that exactly. I was happy, I was proud of myself, I was enjoying the new experiences, its just that… well, there was something missing, an element of someone, someone I knew, someone to share this with. Looking back, I think I may have enjoyed the melancholy somewhat, there’s something artificially inspiring about it, something I can draw from when ever I write about loneliness, the complexity of what seems such a simple emotion. So I suppose I can say that Christmas for me was an experience, a new one, filled with different levels of emotion that I now understand and appreciate. I suppose it gave me a new strength in the way and I doubt I’ll feel that type of loneliness again, it’s a once in a lifetime thing, after that, you know what it is, and when ever you know what something is, the experience isn’t so great, or so horrendous, or so beautiful. The juxtaposition is gone.

Kelly, as much as we will always have our differences, our jealousies and well, the underlying female competitiveness, was kind enough to spend New Years Eve with me. We decided to experience the proper London New Years. Taking flasks of Champagne and Wine, some terribly unhealthy nibbles (and for me, something to write on, incase that took our fancy) we took the packed tube – filled with rejoicing commuters all rosy cheeked and scarf covered – to Trafalga Square. We chatted to the Police who suggested the best vantage point was on the other side of the London Bridge looking over the Thames at the London Eye… so off we trotted.

There were thousands upon thousands of people there. They had set up huge speakers along the river bank and music belted out, filling you with the spirit of something coming, something exciting and glorious… I spose that would be the new year, that would be 2009… People were setting themselves up, young and old and in between. The toilet cue was as close as I’ve been to the Wall of China and I suspect it would take me as long to walk that as it had for me to get to the toilet.

We bobbed ourselves down at an appropriate vantage point, took in a few chocolates and chatted as we sipped from our naughty alcohol filled canesters. We met some other rejoices and chatted away, everyone was in the mood for discussion and laughter, there were no cliques, no barriers, social norms were thrown to the wind. We discussed the evening with police who kindly lent us their hats for happy snaps. The fireworks were intense, ridiculously exorbidant, overwhelming… zinging into the air with colours brighter than the fire feast of a lightening storm, th music blared away and people danced and sung and hugged and cried and screamed and it was as it should be. Human. All good and all bad and all exciting and shocking and a juxtaposition of emotion… that is human, a delightful mess.

I wasn’t so impressed when trying to get home, however… the streets were barricaded with people, although the tubes were free, it took a good four hours to get back to the house. How can I describe it? Like the evacuation of an entire world. A thick tapestry of humanity trying to get through a small gap in the hemisphere seeking escape… I was practically in tears. When I want to go, I want to go… but there was no going any faster. The slow progression, it was like watching the sheep that my sister and I struggled to get through the gate and take them to the shed for shearing. I imagined myself a sheep, not a nice concept I can tell you, but there we were.

We did get home, however, and the next morning greeted me with a terrible headache and I’ve not had champagne since. If I ever decide (or rather am offered) to get married, Champagne will NOT be on the menu, horrible evil terrible stuff. I see no good in it, it doesn’t even taste very nice!

However, to see those lights frazzling momentarily brightly in the sky, zinging off from the London Eye, to hear Big Ben literally ring in the New Year and everyone… everyone, singing Auld Langs Syne and hugging one another, be they friends or strangers… that is something I shant forget, that is something that is missing from where I come from, that was a movie moment of magic and even through my memory, it seems more a film clip to me. Incredible. Delightful. Magic. London.

The following weeks are a bit of a blur, I had so much to do… I needed to find a place to live. I’d had a call from the agency I’d worked for before Christmas and New Years and apparently the receptionist at Bevan Brittan had been thrown out (interesting circumstances, there apparently was some cat fight resulting in her walking out the door without any notice) and could I possibly start ASAP for an indeterminate amount of time? Yes… certainly. So the job was relatively secure.

I spent a good two weeks traipsing from one side of London to the other, east, west, north and south. I saw everything. From a place right in the city - which seemed more equipped with guns and head dresses than grocery stores and parks, to the prestigious Fulham, a ‘house’ that was more like a closet and somehow fitted four people and a kitchen in it for a price that I wouldn’t buy a car for! There was a perfect place in Wimbledon, but they needed a lease signed and bills in my name and as I wasn’t sure how long I’d be there, I declined… eventually I came to a house that was being rented by a Spanish and Afro-Caribean, both girls that wanted an all girl house share. There were six rooms, and they were advertising for room mates.

The house was enormous, I took the loft – a long room without an opening window or central heating, but it was private and I could imagine creating a little home of my own up there. The kitchen was huge – red cupboards though, I’ll never have that myself – two lounges and a huge backyard. I was soon to discover that the train ran directly at the end of our yard and the chika-chika-voom would run until 3am when the trains stopped… I had to get used to sleeping with the noise, and with the light as there were no curtains. But all in all… initially, I was happy with the decision.

The house was situated in East Finchley, one tube stop from the beautiful Highgate where all the famous people apparently lived, and a few stops from Camden – a good market place and somewhere to go out in the evening. The High Street seemed far less intimidating than Tooting Bec had been and had three brilliant second hand stores where I ended up buying most of my clothes (though not books, I became quite a fan of Waterstones while over there, an excellent feel to the store and they have every Booker and Orange Prize winner book on hand – hoorah!). It was also on the Northern Line of the tube which I’d found was relatively reliable… so all seemed on the up – little did I know.