Usually

August 10, 2008

Usually I don’t mind not living in London. I mean, I never have, so why miss it?

But then I read Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman, or Un Lun Dun by China Mieville or I hear that David Tennant is playing Hamlet against Patrick Stewart’s Claudius and I really REALLY want to go and see it.

And then I read this kind of thing (a review of the top 10 performances of Hamlet by the Guardian’s critic) and start to look at jobs advertised online … More on it here.

Gillian took me on a journalist’s tour of London in 48 hours that started with Fleet Street, long after the media had departed.

We visited a traditional journalist’s pub where, she said, ink ran in the beer, there were old chaps who’d stood their ground against Murdoch’s men and who hadn’t worked since and where I could get a real English pint without any of the fuss.

However, it was Waitangi Day in New Zealand and all the ex-pat Kiwis on their big OE were charging round on the tube wearing t-shirts with the map of the Underground but with the place names crossed out and places like Johnsonville, Geraldine, Te Awamutu, Cambridge etched on instead.

The pub was showing Classic All Blacks’ matches and serving Steinlager and was full youths in black shirts “talking loud in a Kiwi accent” including, but not limited to, a couple of guys I’m sure I remember from Waikato.

It was quite surreal and perhaps the best way to visit London.

But I would like to see Tennant’s Hamlet. I very much would.

Hat tip: Neil Gaiman for his very funny take on the photos.

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