Being that my visits to London tend to be both short and occasional, I tried to pack as much into Friday/Saturday as possible. The train to Marylebone left from Stourbridge (via Birmingham Moor Street) at around 11am, so when I got in at 2pm, there was plenty of time to get soaked in the torrential rain.

The journey down was pretty non-eventful, and after arriving I decided to make a few calls to see if anyone was about (unexpectedly for them). Butts didn't answer his phone as I later found out that he was in Greece, and Brown was on his way to Scotland with his brother to compete in the World Stone Skimming Championships which is an absolutely brilliant way to spend a weekend, although it did leave my afternoon a little freer than I'd expected.

This wasn't a problem though as every boy scout carries contingencies, so I headed over to Bond Street, did a little window shopping and spent some time exploring the vast vaults of the Selfridges building before making a pilgrimage to the Apple Store on Regent's street.
This was two or three fold really; firstly to quench my thirst to see it and the amazing glass staircase, secondly to check my email (a sad but necessary evil) and finally to see the new iPod nanos.

I was incredibly impressed by certain female members of the Apple staff and for this reason alone would consider going again...

Anyway.

Swanny called me and said he wasn't doing any work now (there's a change) and would I like to meet for some food. He was still about 45 minutes away, so I said I'd meet him at the Tate Britain, as despite having seen the Modern a few years ago, I'd not made it to the other gallery until now.

I have to admit, classical painting and sculpture is not my favourite, but I do have a desire to see work of the masters. My personal opinion of what art is is divided into three (standard) sections; classical, modern and post-modern, where all classical and modern is art, and anything post modern must make me smile or think, and not in a pretentious way. A big room with lights going on and off can be considered art, if I like it. If I don't like it then it isn't. I think it's a fair enough system to judge as nobody anymore can decide what is and what isn't, so you have to adopt your own crteria.

Back to the gallery content, I had to fly down the British classic wing and never got to see the modern section before Swan turned up and the thought of food prevailed. We headed into Victoria and picked up some Nandos and Devito soon joined us.

The plan was to meet with Duffy after work in his 'local' so we took the tube to Angel and started in the Wetherspoons. Duffy turned up and we took the bus back to his. He told us it was five minutes away, but after a 15 minute bus journey and a 20 minute walk we realised that he may well have been lying. I didn't think there was anywhere in London that far away from Public Transport, but apparently Stoke Newington is.

We had a few beers at his, played some cards and soaked in the fantastic view from his balcony over the city skyline. Until seeing the view, it could have been any other flat anywhere (albeit quite a nice one for the price he is paying).

We went back to Angel and started again in Walkabout. After a number of hours and a lot of changes of bar, some cocktails, a turboshandy (how old skool) and emptying the collective kitty we all spent our last tenner on a place that was claimed to be open until four when everywhere else was closing. Unfortunately the cost of admission to "Fez" didn't reflect the establishment. For all intents an purposes, somebody had buried a shoebox with a DJ in it and then banned attractive ladies. It was a disappointment. At one point Swan genuinely exclaimed, "Look, there's the other room!". Thinking the place was much larger than we had originally thought, we were all bitterly disappointed to discover that Swan had been tricked by a mirror on the back wall. Devito suggested they should convert the toilet into a new room to double the size of the club. My advice is stay away from Fez.

The next morning we woke up in a clutter of pizza crusts. I have to admit, it wasn't feeling too fresh, but after a bacon butty and some Family Guy we finally awoke properly and left Duffy to his own devices. I headed to King's Cross with Devito and said goodbye for the next few months at least as he heads off to Spain indefinitely this Monday. I then called John Dalton to see whether he wanted to catch some lunch. We met at Paddington and had a pint (I didn't feel like it, but John insisted) and food before I left to meet Crocodile Dundee Pete in Kensington.

Pete still seems to be loving London and enjoying all the perks that Coca-Cola are throwing his way. We discussed as much as we could over one pint (mostly my travels in Oz and usual bloke chat) before he had to head off and so at this point I went back to the Tate Britain to finish of what I'd started and wait for John to meet me again.

John had offered to prepare some salmon for dinner and knowing first hand that he is a good chef, decided this was far more desirable than eating at a Subway again or similar, so took him up on it and went to his halls just off Edgewear Road for some highly appreciated food and a last minute catch up before I had to get back to Marylebone for the train back home.

And that concludes my two day adventure in London. Today I'm on the move again as Sister One goes back to Aber for the new term and I'm coming along to shift boxes. Hoping to do some photography on the way back, time permitting.