#russell square tube station
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Cyril Power (British, 1872-1951), The Tube Staircase, 1929. Linocut printed in yellow, cobalt blue and black on thin oriental laid paper, block: 444 x 258 mm.; sheet: 532 x 320 mm. Numbered 30/50
#cyril edward power#cyril power#british art#english art#stairs#staircase#underground#tube station#russell square tube station#london underground
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Newsstand at Russell Square tube station, London, 1982. From the Budapest Municipal Photography Company archive.
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A Match Baked In Heaven
Part 1 Here
Part 2
Tighten Up
Azriel completely underestimated the length of time it would take him to get from the gym to Russell Square.
He rode the Tube, his act of a ‘regular guy’ perfected over the years. Once in a while he caught confused glances of recognition, but because he knew how to act so disinterested, those who actually recognised him eventually averted their eyes, convinced that they were wrong and that he was not the Azriel Night.
After receiving a good deal of bollocking from Cassian last night, Azriel had signed the contract, and it was now sitting in his backpack. Cassian had made a fuss over Azriel’s ‘marriage proposal’ to the prissy Miss Duchess, calling him, among other things: unprofessional, dumb, a tosser, a wanker, and a caveman. Yeah, Azriel recognised that the ‘proposal’ was a stupid move on his part, but what was done was done. At least he spiced things up a bit for her. That was probably the one and only proposal she’d receive in her life anyway, considering her attitude.
In the end, he assured Cassian that he was going to be on his best behaviour and that he won’t tease her or argue with her. Cassian was doubtful, wanting to come along with Azriel to the meeting, but thankfully, he had other meetings scheduled and therefore, Azriel made the trip alone.
Because two could play that game, he hit up good ol’ Google last night, searching for info on Miss Priss.
Elain Marie Paige Archeron, daughter of Sir Charles Archeron and his late wife Cressida. Middle child, with sisters Nesta and Feyre. He didn’t think she was much over 22, but apparently, she was 27. Graduated from the University of Bristol. Marigold seemed to have been her great-grandmother’s name, hence the name of the agency. There wasn’t much about Elain out there. A few photos of her with some pale redhead with an aristocratic face, whom Azriel immediately disliked. The bloke had the kind of expression like he was smelling a pile of shite at all times, or as if Pinky…no, Piglet, took a dump on his shoe. Azriel knew the type–proud, haughty, old-money, inherited everything, probably played polo with Prince William, and cards with Old Etonians. Azriel wasn’t sure if Elain was dating this wanker, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if she did. Well, with her granddaddy the Duke and all…
He sighed and X-ed out of the search. It was too depressing. He didn’t even like Elain, and yet it annoyed him that that pale-faced prick could just expect a girl like her to be his. He didn’t even have to try. It was all set in stone for them from before they were born.
It was only 11:15 am and he was exiting the station. He was seriously early.
Well, maybe she was in the office already and he could just get it over with earlier than planned. That would be nice. Once they were done with today, he hoped that he wouldn’t need to see her ever again. Or at least not for a while.
Damn it was cold. It wasn’t pouring like it did yesterday, but it was damp and bone-chilling and grossly dreary.
Why couldn’t he have signed with Barcelona or Real Madrid or even Juventus or something? Spending a decade or two in the sun, by the sea, drinking Aperol Spritzers or Sangria. What’s bad about that life?
He sighed. A nice dream, but deep down he knew that he was forever a London boy. Born and raised, and he’d die here one day, in this damp and chill. He loved the fucking place. An East-sider through and through. Loved the grandeur and the poverty, the history and every freakin’ building in this city. He loved how it changed and grew and expanded, the old mixing with the new, all the extremes of its everyday life. The bustle, the hustle, the quiet, the refined. He loved the stately homes and the fugly estates which were little but cinder blocks. Loved the parks and the mighty river, the roar of football crowds and the anonymity of a pub. He loved it. And he wasn’t going anywhere.
And now, this weird girl Elain was here, and she was going to find him a wife, and she was going to bind him even further to this city.
As he passed by the side of the Firtzroy, he saw a blue plaque that stated:
Emmeline Pankhurst, a political activist and leader of the suffrage movement and her daughters Sylvia, Christbel and Adela lived here
And now, he felt a strange connection to this blue plaque, to this quaint neighbourhood, because Elain lived here, and she was organically tied to this place. She was able to trace her presence here for multiple generations. She was tied to London just like he was.
He went straight to Elain’s office and rang the bell. There was no response. He even peeked into the window, and saw that it was dark in there. Well that sucked because he had almost two hours to kill now. Great…
Shivering within his jacket, he stuck his hands as deeply in his pockets as he could and walked down the residential street. Yesterday, he noticed a few cafes and restaurants and shops around the British Museum and he decided to head that way. He wasn’t hungry yet, but he had time, so he’d have lunch.
Six minutes later, that plan went to shite, because he passed by a bakery and everything looked delicious. He had a pretty bad case of sweet tooth everyday, though he tried to keep himself in check during training and the playing season. But the golden meat pies in the display case whispered his name. He couldn’t resist. And it wasn’t like he was eating sugar. 10 minutes later, he was exiting the bakery with three pies in the bag. One, he devoured like an animal, before he even spotted a cafe to get a cup of tea. He didn’t like to share food, or wait to eat–his childhood programmed him to be stingy about it, and he couldn’t kick the habit even now, even with all his millions in the bank.
He walked further, trying to stave off the cold, when he suddenly saw a familiar creature–a three legged pug. Pinky…no, Piglet–was trotting proudly, wearing a puffer vest and a stylish polka dot scarf. Some girl was walking him, and people stopped to admire him, some even snapping photos on their phone. That made Azriel smile. The dog walker was a slender tallish girl who wore Adidas skater shoes, slightly flared faded jeans, a plain jacket and a beanie, while being wrapped in a thick, long scarf.
Somehow, Pinky recognised or sensed Azriel’s presence and took off towards him, his three short legs pumping comically. The girl barely held onto the lead, and ran behind the dog.
“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, once Pinky…no, Piglet...began sniffing Azriel’s shoes and then craned its thick neck up, demanding loves and rubs with his sad buggy eyes.
To Azriel’s utter shock, the girl in the faded pair of jeans and a thick scarf was no other than Elain Archeron.
“What the fuck?” Azriel gasped.
She ignored the language and stared at him in confusion,
“What are you…why are you here?”
Why was he here?
The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was impatient to see her and came early.
Somewhat aggressively, he turned it on her ‘weren’t we meeting at 11? It’s half past now!”
“No, one. We were meeting at one,” she argued.
“I don’t think so,” he waved his hand.
“Well, you would be wrong,” she contradicted him.
Pinky finally lost his patience and tugged on Azriel’s pant with his teeth.
“Piglet!” Elain tried to pull him back, but Azriel squatted and finally scratched the back of the dog’s neck.
“I guess I got my times mixed up,” Azriel finally conceded.
“Where is Cassian?” Elain asked curiously, looking for his brother.
At that, Azriel bristled and snapped, “I thought I was the client? Why do you need Cassian here?”
Elain shrugged and answered placidly, “I am just surprised that he isn’t standing behind you with a cattle prod, trying to push you into the office.”
At that, Azriel couldn’t help himself, and chuckled.
“Nah…” he shrugged, and smiled, and then shivered from the damn cold. “I am all yours to have your way with me. Brought the contract and all.”
She blushed a bit at his words, as she looked up at him and whispered, “You are weird.”
“Yeah well…”
Suddenly, she pulled off her massive scarf and then slowly draped it over his neck, wrapping it carefully around him and tying it off.
It was warm from her body, smelled faintly of jasmine and maybe vanilla and was soft as butter on his skin.
“What’s this for?” he finally asked stupidly, after a long, awkward, confused pause. She was confounding him.
“I dunno,” she answered, seemingly just as surprised by her own action as he was. “You seem cold.”
“Thank you?” he said at last.
The pug was going wild at his feet, bucking and pulling on the lead, and Azriel finally said, “come on, Pinky. Let’s go.”
“It’s Piglet,” Elain corrected him.
“It’s a terrible name for a dog.”
“You’d think so,” Elain shrugged her shoulder.
“I just wouldn’t name a dog Piglet. Pinky is better.”
“Well, I am not renaming my dog.”
“Well, I am naming the children,” Azriel decided, taking the lead from her without asking.
Elain gave him a side glance, and thrust her hands in her pockets. What children?
“And what are you naming them?” she queried. As everything with him, it was a strange conversation.
“Darius,” he said immediately. “Definitely Darius.”
“Hmmm, I like Darius,” she agreed.
“Yeah?”
“I do. What else?”
“I like Dahlia, Isabelle and Rose for girls.”
Elain considered for a moment and then nodded,
“These are all good names.”
He was surprised and asked, “Really?”
“Yes, I actually like them all. Something I should mention to the prospective matches then?”
At that, Azriel frowned and nestled his chin deeper into the scarf. Then, abruptly as ever, he asked, “What happened to Pinky’s leg?”
“It’s Piglet. And I don’t really know,” Elain admitted. “I think he was run over by a cyclist. The leg was crushed and had to be amputated. And the family that had him didn’t want to keep him. Didn’t want to deal with a three legged dog, or with the care that he required. They were going to put him down, but a friend of mine who volunteered at the shelter rang me up and told me that if I wanted him, I could have him. So I went that night and picked him up. And here we are. He has more energy than I do,”
Azriel chuckled and nodded, “I can see that”.
They walked in silence for a while, the dog bouncing between them, his round head swinging from one to the other, looking at their reactions.
“Do you want a meat pie?”
That came out of nowhere, as usual. Azriel lifted a paper bag, his offer hanging in the air.
“Yeah. Okay,” Elain agreed.
Defensively, he added, “you know, I am not pressuring you. If you don’t want it, you don’t have to have it.”
He sounded almost angry, like he couldn’t believe that she’d eat with him. Or accept food from him.
“Why can’t I just want a meat pie?” Elain asked.
“Posh lasses like you don’t eat stuff like this,”
“You have the strangest notions, you know,” she shook her head. “As if you have any idea who I am or what I like. Give me the damn pie, I’ll buy us some tea and you’ll help me with a project,” she demanded impatiently.
“What fucking project?” he mumbled.
Elain didn’t bother answering, as she stepped inside a cafe, leaving him and Pinky outside. Azriel stood there, meeting people’s curious gazes, though Pinky, being so extra with his scarf and puffer coat, seemed a lot more interesting to most passersby. While waiting, he pondered what the hell kind of a project Elain had for him. He didn’t expect to meet her like that, on the street, but now he was sort of glad that he did. If nothing else, Elain was mesmerizingly beautiful so it wasn’t exactly a hardship to walk with her. And when she wasn’t decked out in pearls and silk, she seemed kind of normal. A little funny. Irreverent. And she liked all the baby names that he had planned–which was a mad thing, because he sure didn’t plan on sharing that with her. With anyone! What normal man talks baby names with some girl he’d just met. But he also didn’t want her to share those names with any matches that she was going to set him up with. No. No. These were his names. And Elain was the only person in the world that he told them to, so now it was their names. He felt weirdly protective over the names, over this thing that now untied him and her. Gah. She was messing with his head. It was frustrating.
“Don’t tell the baby names to anyone!” he snapped at her the moment she came out of the cafe holding two cups.
She gave him a look, judgy and disdainful, he was sure of it, but then simply said, ‘okay. I won’t.’
“I am not joking,” he warned, eyeing her suspiciously.
“I got it. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Alright then,” he sighed. He tugged on the lead and Pinky finally moved his butt off the pavement. “Thanks for the tea,” Azriel said.
“You really need to work on your manners,” Elain told him bluntly.
He had to agree. He did.
“Probably. Sorry I was short with you.”
They headed towards her house and when they stood in front of it, Azriel noticed another blue plaque. It stated: Elain Archeron, a pioneer in women’s education and one of the leaders of the suffragette movement lived in this house.
“How would the feminist granny Archeron feel about you working as a matchmaker?” Azriel wondered out loud, while Elain unlocked the door to the coach house.
Pinky rushed inside, like he owned the place–which, Azriel, supposed he did. Elain removed her jacket and then waited for Azriel to do the same. She took it from him and hung it in the closet, and it didn’t escape him how her eyes skimmed over him.
He wore jeans and a simple grey henley today, but now that he thought about it, he figured that it probably accentuated his physique pretty well. He was very tall, wide-shouldered, with a lean, muscular torso, obviously extraordinarily fit, his legs long and clad in lean sinewy muscle which he developed after years of running.
It’s not like he cared that she checked him out, but he wasn’t hating it either. Without thinking, he rolled up his sleeves, and the widening of Elain’s eyes and her pink tongue licking her lips was not something he could miss. There was no mistaking it this time. She was definitely checking him out.
He folded his arms on his chest–did he flex a bit? Maybe–and then asked,
“What’s this project that you need done?”
She stared at him, at his forearms, the tattoos that covered them, the scars that marred his hands.
“Uhh…what?”
She was cute like this. Frazzled like. Not all proper and snobby, but all twitchy and red. He wanted to laugh.
“The project?” he repeated, staring at her.
“Oh, yeah,” she seemed to have remembered what she wanted from him, but when she turned around, she walked straight into the wall. Bounced back off of it and yelped ‘ow!’
“You okay there, matchmaker?” he teased, though he caught himself worried that she’d hurt her nose, because she was rubbing it aggressively.
“I am okay,” she said at last. “Come with me.”
He followed her silently, down a long corridor. Her office and the reception area were on the other side of the corridor, and he was kind of surprised when they ended up in a cosy little kitchen–guess that explained where she got the tea and the biscuits yesterday–and a tidy lounge. Though the only one lounging presently was Pinky, who was sprawled on his back, short little legs in the air, stretched upon a comfy looking pouffe. There was also a sofa and an armchair, and a wall mounted TV in the lounge. Elain clicked the remote and on came videos of dogs running around. The pug growled with approval, fully immersed in the programme, while Elain went to take off all his clothes.
“He is a little fucking lord, isn’t he?” Azriel commented, watching her fuss over the dog.
“Mr. Night,” she told him primly, “you must cut down on the cursing! It’s rather unseemly,”
He scowled and reminded her,
“I am a fucking footballer, baby. How do you think we talk? Also, maybe you should cut down on Mr. Night, yeah? I think we are past that.”
She straightened and glared at him, her soft little face full of stormy fury.
“Mr. Night. I am not your ‘baby’. Never forget that. You are my client. As such, you will be known as Mr. Night and you will give me the respect of calling me Ms. Archeron. Are we clear?”
He bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to maintain his composure. But at last, he snapped, ‘crystal’.
“Wonderful,”
“But Cassian is Cassian, right?” he couldn’t help but challenge her.
She huffed to herself, head shaking, her curls bouncing up and down her shoulders.
“Cassian is not my client.”
“And if I weren’t, you’d call me Azriel then?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I simply don’t see under what circumstances we’d be acquainted…and what we’d have in common to ever cross paths…”
That actually fucking hurt.
Her words. The implication that he wasn’t good enough to be spending time in her company outside of this business arrangement. He wasn’t up to par to be in her circles, to even have as a friend.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t,” he muttered icily. “Because I am just some trashy footballer. As you said yesterday, I was sold by one team to another. That’s what footballers are–a commodity to be bought and sold, until they reach their expiration date. Wouldn’t think someone like you had any use for me. Where would we meet other than here, right?”
Her mouth popped open, while he sighed heavily.
He was feeling…dejected. Burdened. Like she tossed him aside, much like most people in his life did, and he didn't matter. But she was right, of course, he was her client. Nothing else.
And he wasn’t going to give her his meat pie anymore. Forget it.
“I don’t know if this is going to work,” he decided. “I think that this is a mistake.”
Elain chewed on her lips, her big brown eyes watching him intently, like she was trying to read what’s on his mind and get inside his head.
“What I think is that you need to get out of your head,” she stated harshly.
He snorted, yet again amazed by the balls on his girl. She was certifiable.
“You have horrible self-esteem, which doesn’t bode well for anyone, especially for you and a future wife. You keep thinking that you are somehow defective. That you shouldn’t be here because…what? You don’t deserve happiness? Don’t deserve a good woman? Yeah, I gathered you had a shitty childhood, well, now you are a superstar. Put your big boy knickers on and act like it! You aren’t some little boy lost–you are Azriel Night, Arsenal’s Captain.
“And don’t you dare dump your issues on me!” she finished. “Don’t construct some scenarios in your head like I am so posh, and you are so not, and as if there is some fantastic chasm of misunderstanding and cultural differences between us.
And finally, if you don’t have any sense of self-worth, then maybe you should be taken advantage of by some slag who’ll take you for everything you’ve got. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck you,” he tossed angrily.
“No. Fuck you!” she tossed right back.
“I am leaving!”
He turned around, while Pinky forgot about his entertainment and relaxation time, and now growled threateningly, because he raised his voice at his mum.
Azriel stomped down the corridor, fuming.
What a bitch. If she were a bloke, he’d beat the crap out of her. Her big mouth, her fucking attitude, her acting like she knew anything about him. Yeah, well. Maybe she was correct about most of what she said, but it wasn’t her business. He wasn’t her business. She couldn't even bring herself to call him by his damn name. Maybe he wanted to hear it on her lips, but she wouldn’t even give him that simple satisfaction.
“You are not leaving,” he suddenly heard her behind him. Little claws clucked on the hardwood floor, and before he could stop, Pinky was throwing himself between him and the door, not allowing him to leave.
“You are not leaving,” she repeated sternly.
“What are you going to do? Stop me?” he chuckled bitterly, getting his jacket from the closet.
“No, but you’ll turn around, and you’ll help me with my project. And I will find you a wife, even if it kills me. Even if I know that it’s going to be painful and torturous. Even if I know that you’ll be fighting me every step of the way.”
“Why the hell do you want to do this?” he demanded, turning to face her.
“Because I don’t give up, Mr. Night. Think of me as a fanged beast–once I sink my claws into you, I don’t let go. And maybe,” she paused, almost panting, her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing wildly, “maybe I believe in love!”
“What?” he stared at her, processing her stupid words, and failing to understand them.
“Yeah, maybe I want to see your happy end. Maybe I want to find you someone who is going to love you for who you are–despite your nasty cantankerous attitude, your potty mouth, you…your…” she was gasping with a mixture of anger and some unholy excitement.
“My what?”
“I don’t know. You! Just you!” she cried out. “You are impossible and unpleasant, and you can’t communicate.”
“Of yeah, you are such a prize,”
“Be quiet! I’ve known you for two days and I am already exhausted. But I will bring this to its natural conclusion, and you will be walking down the aisle in six months! That I promise. And you will be in love.”
“God you make no sense,” he moaned.
“Maybe. But you will be in love. And you will be loved. And that is my vow.”
He rubbed his face, shaking his head, while she stood in front of him, so much smaller than he, but packing so much rage and heat and passion…
He momentarily had a crazy thought of how much he’d want to feel that passion and heat. In bed, between the sheets. The two of them tangled together, sweaty, biting and scratching and…
Also, she looked really pretty when she was angry.
Aaaannnddd…he needed to stop this train of thought stat.
“Also, you are giving my dog whiplash!!” she growled at him.
He glanced at Pinky, who was positioned against the door like a giant loaf of bread. Apparently in an attempt to not let him leave the house.
“What?”
“Yeah, he doesn’t know if he should hate you or love you!” she even stomped her foot. “You are confusing him with your behaviour. And if you will continue doing that, he is going to bite you,”
“Yeah, I am not all that scared of a three-legged pug,” Azriel rolled his eyes.
She still fumed, muttering,
“You would be singing a different song if he bites you in the dick!”
“Whoa, he,”
“Yes!” she yelled. “That’s what he does. Once, this bloke got real handsy with me in the park, and Piglet jumped up and latched onto the bloke’s junk. And wouldn’t let go.”
Azriel suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.
“Yes, yeah, keep laughing, until he bites you!”
“He bit some bloke’s junk?!” Azriel laughed like a maniac, snorting and huffing.
She crossed her arms on her chest.
“He did. And he wouldn’t let go. He just hung there, between the guy’s legs, holding his cock hostage in his teeth. Don’t think he wouldn’t do it to you if you keep being an arsehole and pissing me off!”
“Pinky, don’t you be biting my junk!” Azriel warned, shaking his finger at the dog. “We are mates!”
“And his name is not Pinky!!! And you aren’t mates.”
“We so are.”
Mutely, Azriel hung the jacket back in the closet and then asked,
“What do you need done, you matchmaker-from-hell?!”
She pursed her lips, and then turned on her heels and ordered, “Follow me!”
Oh how he wished he could spank this attitude out of her until her arse was nice and red. Instead, he asked, “who is the bloke who got handsy with you?”
She didn’t turn, but only shrugged.
“I don’t know. I was walking Piglet, and the bloke just wouldn’t leave me alone. It was a little scary.”
Azriel frowned at that.
He didn’t like it.
Didn’t like it one bit.
That some cunt was getting handsy with this impossible contrary girl didn’t sit right with him.
“Do you have CCTV in the house?” he asked sternly.
“Yes, and here too. But that was in the park,”
“I know. But I want to know that your house is secure. Do you have an alarm?”
“Why do you care?”
“Just answer the goddamn question!”
“Yeah, I have an alarm.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Not like what?” she finally glanced at him over her shoulder, as they made their way into the cellar.
“That you are here alone, with a three-legged pug as your only guard. And you have all kinds of shady characters coming and going from this place. How well do you even vet them?”
She gave him a very clear ‘pot/kettle’ look, but he ignored it. Of course she would.
“I vet them well enough. I have a taser too! And pepper spray.”
“Yeah, bring some pepper spray to a gun fight,” he grunted.
“This is not America,” she reminded him. “I don’t think anyone is bringing a gun here.”
Azriel stopped in the middle of the cellar and gasped, “what is all this crap?”
“It’s pumpkins.”
No shit. She had four large cardboard boxes filled with various sized pumpkins. All kinds of decorations and lanterns and other Halloweeen-themed stuff in a bunch more boxes.
“I need help with this,” she said softly, batting her eyelashes at him and biting her lower lip.
“Yeah, sweetheart, this shite don’t work on me,” he waved his hand dismissively at her. “I’ll help you with this, but not because you think your ridiculous, artless flirting is making any difference here.”
Her mouth dropped in a shocked O.
He smirked.
That’s right. Two can play this game.
#elriel#azriel and elain#elriel fanfic#my writing#my fanfiction#elain archeron#elain x azriel#pro elriel#azriel#elain#A Match Baked In Heaven#Modern AU#elriel fanfiction#acotar fanfiction
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Every Tube Station! 8/272 - Covent Garden
Birthday post! (my birthday was yesterday but shhh I didn't want to make the post yesterday)
To start off, funny story about Covent Garden:
At the bottom of the stairs in the station (yes I took the stairs o_o;) there's a sign saying '193 steps, equivalent to 15 floors'. This immediately sounds off to the mathematician in me, so I had to check this. Turns out, multiple other tube stations also say they have 15 floors worth of steps, with wildly different step counts!
Russel Square: 175 steps!
Hampstead: 320 steps!
Both say 15 floors! (FYI: 15 floors is actually around 270 steps, based on the 17cm steps the underground uses)
Anyway, I didn't actually spent much time at Covent Garden itself, I only went to go to the transport museum eheheheh
Unrelated but, why did they have the christmas decorations up already? It isn't even halloween yet 😭
Either way, enjoy some pics of Covent Garden!
Based transport museum
Also at the moment there's a gallery of previous artwork from the tube! Here's a selection of my favourites:
After this, I decided to walk down to the river, where I took some more photos.
I got bored so I went to Waterloo to take the waterloo and city line (lol). They have a cool depot if you look past the platform! After this I decided to walk around the City of London for a bit. The signs got me lost actually. I tried to get to the Barbican, but ended up in the Borough of Finsbury? This borough doesn't exist anymore! (It merged with Islington in 1965, but it's cool to see there are still signs retaining the history)
Well, that marks the end of my day! Hope to see you for my next post!
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hello!!
I'm from the UK and a close friend lives in London so I visit quite often!!
you might already know about these but incase you don't,, gays the word! the first LGBT bookshop in the UK! its my favourite bookshop <33 the closest tube station is Russel square! the British library is also close by and there's some cute second hand shops and cafes in the area! Camden market and brick lane are also lovely if you haven't been yet! there's also the british queer museum that opened about two years ago near kings cross! down the road from there is also an adorable market and a book shop on a boat!
These places aren't that obscure but I love them and hopefully there's something there you might not know about!
I hope you enjoy your visit!
Oh these suggestions are perfect!! They definitely don’t have to be incredibly obscure, I’m just trying to avoid like Tower of London, London eye, Tower Bridge kind of big touristy stuff because I’ve done those and some of them multiple times lol
bookstores are actually in my mind as a top thing I wanted to explore more of this time, so these are so great. Brick lane as well, I haven’t done it yet!! I went to the British library once because they were doing an Alice in Wonderland manuscript exhibit and it was super cool, I would love to go back there as well.
Thanks so much for sending me these!!
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do you have any reccomendations for places to buy comics in london ?
DO I!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'VE DEDICATED MY LIFE TO IT!!! here's a bunch of my faves in no particular order:
forbidden planet - the london megastore is said to be the biggest comic book shop in the uk (it's pretty damn big!) and my go-to place for weeklies. they don't have back issues unless you're looking for something that's a couple months old at the very best but they do have tons of merch/toys of all kinds, crazy sales, trades like you wouldn't believe and general books. practically my home away from home, i'm at forbidden planet pretty much every wednesday to pick up new releases. also: very frequent free signings with some of the biggest names you can think of!
gosh! comics - home of the indie comics & weeklies, gosh! is a couple streets away from fp in soho and probably one of my favourite places to waste an hour or two in. the good folks at gosh! still believe in zines and they've got plenty of them, as well as comic mags of the british & american variety, comic theory & history, pretty decent sales on trades, and a huge supply of back issues downstairs. their back issues are what i consider pricey (£3-10 range) but they're remarkably well organised and well stocked. this is the place to be if you wanna move away from the big two or towards the history/study side of things, and they've got very frequent signings too!
the notting hill comic exchange - just around the corner from the notting hill gate tube station, this is probably my favourite place in the world for back issues. you can find any indv issue youve ever dreamed of for 50p - £1 at the exchange and they've got boxes & boxes of 'em, especially now that the shop has extended into the notting hill book exchange next door and there's a couple beautiful beautiful cheap boxes in there too. they've also got comic collections (indv issues of an arc in one bag), comic-related books, adult comics, magazines and trades at less reasonable prices (for my standards, anyway) but it's heaven for back issues!
a place in space - a little ways away from the croydon shopping centre, a place in space has alphabetized boxes of individually priced back issues and weeklies as well as trades and action figures. while they don't have any designated cheap boxes, the prices tend to be fantastic (£1-5) and they've been remarkably well-stocked every time i've been there, especially if you're looking for modern age anything (nineties especially). i'm not a very frequent visitor solely because i can almost always be found around leicester square/central london but man, if i don't just love this shop!
krypton comics & books - a five min walk from the blackhorse road tube station on the victoria line, krypton comics started as a small stall in camden market back in the eighties and has since become a wonderful little shop with amazing prices. while they don't seem to employ any sort of method of organizing... anything, they've got about ten boxes filled to the brim with 50p comics and you better believe i've spent many an afternoon digging through those & walking away with some incredible stuff! they're only open three days per week so better check the website before visiting but trust me, it's as worth it as it gets!
mega city comics - over in camden and literally across the street from the tube, mega city has back issues & weeklies as well as tons of non-western comics. they're a little pricey for my taste and often tend towards silver age rarities but there's discount boxes as well and it's definitely worth a look if you're in the area!
a moment of silence for orbital comics and 30th century comics, which were once the loves of my life and have gone online post-lockdown, and a honorary mention to piranha comics in bromley. i would also recommend checking out the london comic mart, which is held once every two months at the royal national hotel in russell square and has quite literally 100+ booths with 25p/50p/75p back issues of all eras (the literal highlight of my entire life, obviously)! local charity shops such as most oxfam locations also carry comics for incredible prices, and i've definitely gotten a good chunk of my collection from the one down the street from my place.
so, that's pretty much it! i hope i've helped a lil, enjoy!!!!!!
#if somebody wants to meet me at a comic shop to hang out please reach out#london#london comic shops#asks#anon
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Thess vs Tube Strikes
I ... am just never doing that again. Ever. In my life. I don’t care. No. No more.
“That”, in this instance, is “commute to work during a Tube strike”.
I didn’t have a lot of options. Yeah, apparently the Overground might have been an option, but not really for me, because stairs. Not a lot of Overground stations are step-free, and a lot of times, people are in a massive rush on the stairs at the stops near where I live. I’ve nearly been pushed down them a few times, and I mean on normal days before I had the cane. With that many more people on the Overground, stairs slippery with the recent damp weather? No. Noooooooo. So it was going to be the bus.
Thing is, every single route I could have conceivably taken went past a major train station and had other issues besides. 363 to 12 to 24? Victoria and having to drive all around Westminster. Nooope nope nope. 363 to 168? Euston, and also the mostly-closed road between Holborn and Russell Square. Not to mention King’s College students. So also nope. 63 to 46? Not great, but the best option I really had. Though at the end of the day, probably even odds, because the area around King’s Cross / St Pancras? Ooooooooh that’s a mess. Two major train stations + Eurostar ... yeah. So I got significantly stuck in traffic, crammed into overcrowded buses next to people who could not mind their elbows worth shit, for a total of two and a half hours. And was fairly late for work. Not that anyone was going to call me on it today of all days; at least I made it in at all.
I should not have. The trip was agony. The workday was worse. And best of all, Milady apparently could make it to work with the Tube on strike ... but she decided to take a half-day to get her hair done. So we were without her for a goodly portion of the day, and without Goblin for all of it, and the workload was ... nightmarish. We managed to get all of yesterday’s dictation done by the end of the day, but only with a great deal of backbreaking effort and with the knowledge that we’re still going to be backlogged by a day come tomorrow.
Scruffman asked about how my work from home thing was going. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that they are still being uncommunicative dickcheeses. So he decided to attempt lighting a fire under IT; wrote them an email telling them to please ring me at work tomorrow to get this sorted. Which more or less assumes I’m going to be in tomorrow, when honestly I’m not convinced I’m going to be able to move, after the day I put in today. I don’t want to feel like this is manipulative on his part but he’s been kind of Like That lately, so I don’t know. Anyway, limping, choked-back tears and misery was basically the workday.
Then came the commute home. First of all, first bus was late, because obviously traffic. Thus also crowded, because the later the bus is, the more people turn up at the bus stop waiting for it. I did manage to get a seat but that was a damn miracle. (And honestly it’s just as well I didn’t try the 168 because the two I saw go past were stopping at Euston, less than halfway through its route and nowhere near where I needed to be.) Then, changing buses at St Pancras, where there was an issue with the bus getting anywhere near the stop, probably, because the traffic was so densely packed, barely moving, and taking up the entire damn bus lane even though it should not have been. So, after a half-hour wait, I gave an internal whimper and went to try the train. Because thankfully I know most of the routes I could conceivably take and there was a train-train, not Overground-train, from St Pancras to points south - specifically to where I could get a bus home. And luck was with me; I was more or less just in time to catch it! Of course, the bad news was that the down escalator was broken and I had to walk down the stairs, deprived the handrail by people who kept pushing past me, and praying I didn’t get shoved over. Thankfully, I did not. Unfortunately, we did have a signal issue at Farringdon and the guy sat behind me kicking the back of my seat the whole way. Then my bus was late and the priority seats were all taken and the perfectly able people sitting in them just watched me struggle to haul myself into one of the raised seats like they weren’t responsible for adding to my by that point sheer agony. The commute home took just under three hours. If I’d stuck with the bus, I’d probably still be stranded somewhere around Blackfriars Bridge.
Then I come home to find one of my players sharing kind of an ageist / ableist meme in our D&D group Discord channel because he “woke up feeling [his] age��� and I had to flag up that a) I am older than him, b) I need a cane, and c) age has nothing to do with it because d) I know many older people - like my parents, for example - who do not need mobility aids and e) if you’re using a mobility aid IT MEANS THAT YOU ARE IN PAIN AND IT IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY. I don’t think he’s checked the Discord for my response to what I’m sure was an innocent thing, but it’s helpful that the two people LOL’ed apologised and promised to do better. Because ... seriously. You don’t get to a certain age and just get handed back pain and a mobility aid. If you’re walking with a cane, it means that something is wrong, even if it is age-related degeneration. It shouldn’t be anyone’s joke. Honestly, at this point I’m more angry that the joke exists than anything else, but ... y’know. Maybe it’s good that it’s been such a shitty day. I wouldn’t have liked it even if I was having a reasonably good day? But I might have been more willing to gloss over it. It’s honestly good that I didn’t. I kind of have to take getting shoved around by impatient pedestrians and sneered at by people taking seats I genuinely need, but I should at least be able to say to friends, “That thing you said hurt me”.
So ... yeah. Never again. Ever. In my life. ...Oh, also, in just under two weeks’ time? There are going to be bus strikes. And if you guessed that most of the routes within walking distance of my house (that don’t involve a massive fucking hill) are affected? You guessed right. So they’d better damn well hope that they get my work from home arrangements sorted soon because they’re losing me at work for a lot of strike action otherwise.
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Way out - Russell Square tube station - London, England.
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The Streets Of London (112)
The Streets Of London (112) - Gower Street, WC1, a street at the forefront of railway innovation
Gower Street, WC1
Running from Euston Road at its northerly end to Montague Place at its southern end where it becomes Bloomsbury Street, Gower Street boasts one of the longest sets of Georgian terraces in the capital. They were not universally admired when they were built, John Ruskin, prompted to go all Prince Charles, calling them “the nec plus ultra of ugliness in British architecture”. To…
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#Catch Me Who Can#Charles Darwin#Down House#Euston Square tube station#Gower Street#John Ruskin#John Russell#Lady Gertrude Leveson-Gower#Macaw Cottage#North London Hospital#Richard Trevithick#the first fare-paying railway#the first operation involving ether in Europe#University College London
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hit me with a fun tube fact please
So sorry I didn't see this! there are so many to choose from, why don't you take a few? Like how it is quicker to walk from lancaster gate to paddington than to take the tube, or how no fewer than 3 stations with wildly varying depths claim to be 15 storeys underground (covent garden, russell square and even hampstead, the deepest on the network), or that aldgate is the only station where the circle line has its own platforms (not that fun but i just found that one out today), or that at whitechapel the Underground runs over the Overground. I hope those were things you didn't know about it and that this was useful, but if you want any more facts feel free to ask!
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Russel square tube station
Russel square tube station sketch from artist Sean Briggs no 2585 #tube #art #drawing #sketch #illustration #print
Russel square tube station | Limited edition fine art print from an original drawing.
My sketches start life as hand-drawn graphite images made on cartridge paper. I often work on these with charcoal, oil pastel or Caran d’Ache to create the look I’m after. The artwork is then scanned and finessed digitally ready for fine art printing. This process often referred to as Giclée printing uses the…
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#87: A Walk From the Library
The traffic is heavy at Midland Road when I saunter out of the large iron gate at the back of British Library and join the small crowd at the junction, waiting for the green man. The tube station is around the corner. I could catch a train and be home in 45 minutes. But today, I go straight past it and head into the quiet side streets of Bloomsbury. I’m going for a walk.
After several miserably cold and rainy April days, the weather is finally turning for the better. It’s almost 8 p.m. The sun is about to set, imbuing the pale blue sky with a gradient of orange and red. The trees have sprung fledgeling leaves that will soon fill their majestic crowns. A young couple, probably students from the nearby UCL campus, walks past, holding hands, talking animatedly about their day.
At Judd Street, a barista flips a sign on the door of a cafe from open to closed and carries a blackboard sign with the day’s specials inside to be updated for tomorrow. Chairs are upturned on the tables inside the bistro next door which closed an hour ago. The city is slowly winding down.
My route takes me under a row of tall planes along the grey slab of concrete that is the fashionable Brunswick Centre. Amongst the townhouses of Bloomsbury, the shopping centre looks as if an alien ship landed in the middle of Victorian London. There goes an idea for a story.
I turn into a narrow passage which leads straight to Queens Square Gardens and lets me avoid the crowds at Russell Square. Then I round the corner into Great Ormond Street and carry on past the ubiquitous cast iron railings that set apart the pits of lower ground floor flats.
My mind is tired, and as I go, I let it wander wherever it pleases. I’m not in a rush. I’ve done my work for the day, and the leisurely walk with the sun setting behind my back is my reward. Sometimes, I listen to music or podcasts. Sometimes, I ponder ideas for stories or brainstorm new ones. Lately, walking from the library has been one of my favourite things to do.
The last golden reflections disappear from the windows on the highest floors. The sun has set, the sky becoming deeper, darker blue. The street lamps come on shortly and flood the pavements with yellow in perfect synchrony.
Lively conversation seems to be going on inside The Perseverance at the corner of Lambs Conduit Street. I don’t particularly fancy a drink today, so I head on. A runner overtakes me in Northington Street which is closed for traffic because of construction, but that’s really all that’s going on around this neighbourhood.
It fascinates me how, if you take the right turns, walking through the centre of one of Europe’s largest cities can be almost as serene as walking down a meadow. Tens of thousands of shoppers may be streaming down Oxford Street while you watch squirrels eating acorns in a deserted park two blocks away.
Somewhere in the distance, a faint howling starts. It’s not the police or paramedics, but it does sound urgent. I keep going, and it becomes significantly louder until it’s clear that it’s coming from a restaurant down the road which appears to be closed for the night. When I walk past the front door, I see a man outside with a backpack on, talking on the phone in distressed Italian. He’s the last man out, probably did all the cleaning, and they didn’t show him how to arm the alarm properly. Poor guy.
At Chancery Lane Station, where Grays Inn Road meets Holborn, the brindle-brick Georgian terraces with large sash windows become concrete and glass office blocks with cavernous lobbies made of polished marble and beeping security gates. Mainstream food chains replace the cosy independent cafes of Bloomsbury that wouldn’t be able to accommodate the throngs of office workers from the nearby high-rises during the lunch hour rush.
Soon, I’m walking past the sombre Old Bailey where Charles Darnay was tried for treason in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. Further down the road, the majestic dome of St Paul’s Cathedral looms above the glass facades of modern office spaces.
From there, I venture down Cheapside—a thoroughfare with boutiques on either side, selling suits and shirts to bankers. I imagine it’s anything but cheap. There’s a branch of Daunt Books across the street which I remind myself to check out every time I pass by and always forget. The buildings grow higher and flashier again. I’m in the skyscraper area where the lobbies are even larger with stone-faced security guards and a couple of automatic revolving door. When someone rents an office up on the highest floor, they clearly mean business. The views must be incredible.
Several new buildings are under construction around here at any given time with huge cranes towering above them. The sound of grinding and hammering echoes along the backstreets. Although it’s dark and getting late, the builders will be working until dawn, and the workers sweep in like high tide once again.
I've been walking over an hour now. At Old Broad Street, I take my final turn towards Liverpool Street Station. I saunter across the pleasantly quiet concourse and make my way to the platform to catch a train home.
Inside the carriage, people watch Netflix on their phones and scroll down their bottomless Instagram feeds. Even though my eyes are closing, I’m on my phone too, typing up the first draft of this story, hoping that one day, I’ll be able to look back at all the work I’ve done today and see it one of the thousands little stepping stones that eventually led to something bigger.
Hope is all I’ve got.
What I Am Reading
I’m near the end of Amy E. Weldon’s The Writer’s Eye. The author, who is a Professor of English at Luther College, touches on a range of topics including observation, descriptive writing, drafting and editing. There’s the occasional tangent, but nothing prohibitive. Overall, it felt quite advanced, and I would only recommend it to writers with some experience to get the most out of it.
On the side, I’m also reading a collection of short stories by William Gibson called Burning Chrome. The cover is freaking me out a little bit, but the stories are great.
To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’ll be reading next. I have several candidates on my desk and will pick one at random. I’ll let you know next week.
Short Stories
I read these short stories this week:
Eleanor by Chuck Palahniuk
The Gernsback Continuum by William Gibson
Fragments of a Hologram Rose by William Gibson
How monkey got married, bought a house, and found happiness in Orlando by Chuck Palahniuk
The Belonging Kind by John Shirley and William Gibson
The Hinterlands by William Gibson
Red Star, Winter Orbit by Bruce Sterling and William Gibson
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Past Editions
#86: The Person Behind the Story, April 2019
#85: Airplane Mode as a Way of Life, April 2019
#84: It’s an Excavation, March 2019
#83: The Bookshop Anxiety, March 2019
#82: On Regularity, March 2019
#writing#writers#write#writing tips#writing advice#writing life#writeblr#amwriting#personal#me#update#writing update#writingcoffee#writingdotcoffee#personal update
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Tube Ride
A very short fic featuring Beatrix and Clive I wrote at 1am whilst feeling a lot of emotions about the Clock Tower.
The packed tube train thundered through the pitch blackness of it’s tunnel with a rattling, impatient burst of speed. Its filthy windows showed no view, and the yellowing lights flickered momentarily with the jostling movement, casting long shadows over and around the commuters jammed inside. Adverts splashed gaudily along the top of the train yelled about diet pills, help-to-buy homes in some gentrified new borough, and other such uninteresting topics that went largely ignored by those they were supposed to reach. The people crammed like sardines in a tin had other things to divert their attention from them: phones, books, or perhaps a copy of The Evening Standard. It was hot, tense and utterly miserable.
In other words, another average peak time tube train on the Piccadilly Line.
The Next Station is “Holborn”, doors will open on the left hand side. This is a Piccadilly Line service to “Arnos Grove.”
Beatrix huffed as the recorded lady finished her little speech, glancing only briefly out of the window to see the train pulling into the sleek tiled platform. It was too crowded to make it worth pushing to get off, even if she could very easily have got off here instead of the next stop and walked back to their headquarters. It wouldn’t be long til the next one anyways, and then she could at least relax a little.
The Underground made her feel claustrophobic, much of London did actually she was not a city person, and the rush hour trains were the worst for it. It turned otherwise normal people into snarling animals hell bent on getting onboard regardless of the cost to public decency and personal space. While Beatrix knew the comparisons between London and the North were long exhausted, it really wouldn’t be so insufferable were they somewhere other than the capital.
“What if we get tea at the hotel before reporting back? Might help calm your nerves a little before you have to deal with Agatha’s bad mood…”
The polite tap on her shoulder and gentle words snapped Beatrix out of her stubborn daydream. She blinked a few times as she brought herself back to reality, feeling the train beneath her feet begin to sputter back into moving out the platform and onwards. Ignoring it she looked up at the speaker, smiling gently. Beatrix had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she almost forgot she wasn’t travelling alone.
“We can splash out on a full high tea if you wanted,”
Lewis was tapping his green umbrella absent-mindedly on the train floor, one hand on the pole to keep him steady, as he spoke. His red eyes glanced about the carriage, checking no one was listening in too hard, but there was hardly any danger here. He was relaxed and Beatrix could see he meant well, perhaps her annoyance was showing through too much.
“It’s not like The Order can’t afford us to, and if Agatha complains I’ll deal with her.,” he continued, shrugging a little.
Beatrix’s smile widened appreciatively.
“You know,” she replied quietly, giving him a small nod.
“I think I would really like that. We can take our time, she’s not expecting us back for another hour or so.”
The next station is “Russell Square”, doors will open on the left hand side. This is a Piccadilly Line service to “Arnos Grove.
Jostling to get to the doors, Beatrix stepped carefully off the train, turning to ensure her companion did the same. Finally out of the tin-can on wheels she felt she could breathe a little more and that would only improve once they got above ground. It was better this way, and now she had something to look forward to. Seeing Lewis join her, Beatrix smiled and took his arm, the both of them heading for the lifts.
“You always know how to make me feel better Clive, thank you.” She remarked.
“Let’s go get tea.”
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London, England
May 28 - 31, 2018
Is the third time really the charm?
Packing my bags, sorting out trip details and breezing through airport security is becoming a comforting feeling for me. Thinking back to my first overseas trip over six(!) years ago, stress levels were much higher but the buzz of excitement has never changed. There is nothing that makes me happier then heading out on a new adventure; off to explore another little corner of the Earth.
This trip, like my last in Europe, started and ended in good old London. That shouldn’t come as a surprise, as everyone reading this knows that London is far and away my favourite city I’ve ever been to.
I’m convinced that you could live in London for years and still never see everything the bustling capital has to offer. With only a couple days in the city this time around, Jen and I developed a plan: pick a couple of neighbourhoods and explore them to the fullest. Oh, and go on a walking tour. Duh.
London Eye
After taking the red eye from YVR to LHR and sleeping as much as possible on the way, we hit the ground running. Hopping on the Piccadilly line, it was a straight shot from Heathrow to Russel Square station. Getting off the tube and stepping out onto the London streets felt like coming home after three long years away. We made a quick stop to check in to our hostel and drop our backpacks, then we were off on a double decker bus to meet our friend Joe and his buddy Taylor at Borough Market (they just happened to be passing through London on their own backpacking trip). It was a late start to the day, but we made the most of it, spending time with good friends, walking around London and relaxing in Hyde Park, like true Londoners on a sunny bank holiday. We tucked into a little Italian restaurant in Covent Garden for dinner just in time; the weather decided to take a turn for the worst and a torrential downpour started before evolving into a full fledged thunder storm.
Buckingham Palace
Our first full day in the city, like so many others, began with a walking tour. We all know I’m a sucker for a good waling tour, and this was Jen’s first time in London, so a tour was a no-brainer. This one took us to many of the city’s most popular landmarks, including Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, and Big Ben (though the famous clock tower was completely covered in scaffolding for restorations).
Wild at Heart florist in Notting Hill.
Notting Hill has always been a borough of London that has intrigued me, so I was more than happy when Jen suggested we hop on the tube and head out that way to explore.
The colourful building and markets of Portobello Road
We started the day with a delicious breakfast at Farm Girl, which we heard about on Instagram. Knowing that the café gets quite busy, we decided to go early to minimize the wait and maximize our time in the area. This ended up being a great decision on our part, as we were the first customers of the day, and got our choice of tables, watching as the cozy restaurant filled as the city woke up. I had the avocado toast, watermelon juice and a rose latte, and everything was just as tasty as it sounds. I would 100% recommend Farm Girl (which also has locations in Chelsea and Soho) if your in the area, not only for the great food, but also for the insta-worthy interiors and friendly staff.
After breakfast we wandered down Portabello Road and ventured off into the side streets, browsing the vendor stalls and enjoying what the area had to offer.
Just another photoshoot in Notting Hill
On one particular side street we encountered lines of brightly painted houses. These are the kind of homes I picture when I think of Notting Hill (probably due to the movie of the same name). We stopped to take some photos, and while we were there, at least six other groups came over and started snapping pictures as well, including an actual photoshoot equipped with hair, make up, lighting and a professional photographer.
Daydreaming of the lives inside these homes in Notting Hill.
Another area of London that we wanted to explore was Kensington. Arriving in the UK fresh on the heels of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s wedding, there was a buzz in the air throughout the city, so a trip to Kensington Palace was a must. We spent an entire afternoon in the gardens, enjoying the understated beauty and change of scenery from London’s urban cityscape.
Sunken Garden at Kensington Palace.
My travel buddy on this trip, Jen, in the Sunken Garden after a passers-by instructed her on how to pose.
We made our way through Kensington Gardens and eventually across Hyde Park, stopping to admire the intricate Albert Memorial, Royal Albert Hall and the many sights of Hyde Park.
A peak at Kensington Palace from the Sunken Garden.
We did a lot during our time in London, but the time spent in Notting Hill and Kensington was the most enjoyable. It might even top my list of my favourite things to see and do in the city!
London will forever be one of my favourite places and though it was my third time exploring the historic and bustling capital, I can’t wait until my next visit.
Me
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A Guide to Achieving a Spectacular Easter in London
This year's Easter might be somehow different from the past Easter celebrations, but its essence and purpose will always remain the same. London has been famous for its Easter festivity, traditional beliefs, foods, and attractions, and visiting London around this year's Easter long weekend is the best time to be in the city.
With the pandemic hindering us from getting the most out of various Easter activities, there is still plenty of stuff to do on this year's Easter weekend. This year Easter celebration will be different and unique from the last year. You can book an affordable stay at Park City Grand Plaza Kensington London to access the Easter weekend celebration with ease and peace of mind. From painting your Easter eggs, doing egg hunts, pampering yourself with delicious Easter chocolates, having Sunday lunches, family events, attending Easter gatherings, fantastic nightlife, watching concerts, to so much more.
Where Exactly To Celebrate?
If you are looking for an exact place where to celebrate Easter, London has tons of excellent spots for you to choose from. London has so much to offer, whether you are looking for a place to have an exclusive party, a fancy restaurant to dine in, entertainment, or Easter events.
You can also read:- 15 Amazing Secret Spots You Have To See In London
Ø Bloomsbury Bowling Lanes
They will be hosting an "eggcellent" party on Easter, and there will be a versatile DJ who will be playing all sorts of hip hop music, retro pop, classic dance anthems, and so on. They also have bars and karaoke rooms. The Kingpin Suite is also available if you want to throw a private and exclusive party this Easter. The nearest tube to reach Bloomsbury Bowling Lanes is Russell Square.
Ø Ballie Ballerson
One of the go-to places this Easter if you want to have a fabulous holiday party. They have an expansive range of excellent pizzas and cocktails and have the most famous ball pits that could inflict extra entertainment and fun. The nearest tube to reach Ballie Ballerson in Shoreditch is Old Street.
Ø Backyard Comedy Club
This is London's biggest professional comedy club. An ideal place for Easter if you want to experience real fun. Plus, they are also serving pizza and have pub games. The nearest tube to reach Backyard Comedy Club is the Bethnal Green.
Ø Neverland - Little Kyoto
An ideal place for a holiday that offers the best boozy brunches, beach events, cocktail bars, cozy lodges, and impressive cabins. The nearest station to reach Neverland - Little Kyoto is Wandsworth Town.
Ø MAP Maison
If you want to tickle your taste buds this holiday, this place is excellent for you. They offer diverse cocktail flavors from around the world, and you will indeed find the most satisfying flavor that will suit your taste. The nearest station to reach MAP Maison is Haggerston.
Ø Supa Dupa Fly
This place is perfect for the holiday if you want to have some of the best nightlife. It is ideal for R&B and hip-hop lovers. This place is coming to be the best of its kind for the past decade in the UK. The nearest tube to reach Supa Dupa Fly is Brixton.
Ø Old Skool Brunch
This place has its Easter special. Perfect for experiencing your favourite classics because their DJ is only playing the music of the 80s, 90s, and 00s. Also an ideal place with delicious food and nostalgic vibes. The nearest tube to reach Old Skool Brunch is Moorgate.
Other Perfect Ways to Celebrate Around London
Get yourself a perfect stay at one of the Hotel South Kensington this year while celebrating the festival as a Londoner. The ways to celebrate Easter are becoming endless because you can engage yourself in lots of things around London.
You can spend time going to family attractions like world-class museums, royal palaces, and famous landmarks.
For children, there are lots of activities for kids in London. You can go watch the must-see event of Easter this year, the behind-the-scenes of Warner Bros. Studio Tour London - The Making of Harry Potter. You can also watch tons of child-friendly Easter shows like Frozen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, The Lion King, West End musical, Mary Poppins, and a lot more.
There are also many Easter events that you can try, like watching The Passion of Jesus and attending an Easter weekend service.
What's better than having Easter egg hunts? You can treat your kids and yourself to Kidzania, London Wetland Centre, Kew Gardens, or some nature parks and reserves.
Always keep in mind to outline your plan days before the Easter weekend begins. And whatever your plans will be and wherever you are heading, always expect large crowds because Easter weekend means tons of people will be outdoors for the holidays.
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Thess vs the Rush Hour
Now, with fingers crossed and all the hopes in the world, I will not have to do the absolute fucking nightmare I had today as often as I have been.
See, the trip to work wasn’t bad - I wasn’t in great shape at the end of it, but I never am, so fuck it. I had good luck with connections in terms of changing buses and, as I had planned, got to work in plenty of time to wait in the always-overlong queue at the in-hospital pharmacy so I could pick up mallet-meds. I’d have waited until after work but I have a thing at the moment whereby I take the mallet-meds a little bit before I leave for home so that I can more or less survive the trip home.
This will be important later.
Since I had the security app and password, it seemed a sensible thing to say to Scruffman, “I’ll test this out over the weekend and call on Monday so we can see what’s what in terms of working from home”. So I said the thing, and he agreed with it, and I will definitely test the things over the weekend. But I will not be doing it tonight even though I had originally considered it, because of what happened after I gathered up my work laptop and the peripherals and started heading for home.
Well, the first half of the journey wasn’t too bad. However, when we got to the sort of Russell Square sort of area, the driver went on the announcement system and said, “There’s a traffic issue around here and I’m told it’s going to take a half-hour to get to Holborn so this bus is going to stop at Waterloo”. I kind of get why - timetables and all - but it seems a horrible thing to do to commuters who’ve crammed themselves onto a bus to overcrowding point to just dump them off possibly several stops before theirs, and probably have to wait for another bus that will have run into the same problems (or be overcrowded to fuckery by other people who had to move to said other buses after having the same problems). So I just went, “Fuck this” and got off the bus, figuring I could get the Tube to Elephant and Castle and go from there.
This was probably a mistake. The nearest Tube station was Russell Square, which is a Piccadilly Line train, and Elephant and Castle is either the Bank branch of the Northern Line or the Bakerloo Line. So I had a couple of choices - one stop up to King’s Cross and switch to the Northern Line, or a few stops in the other direction to Piccadilly Circus and the Bakerloo Line from there. So basically it was a choice between what kind of abominable crush I wanted to face, since by then it had gone 5pm and the rush hour was starting. In the end I decided on tourists and nightlife-seekers instead of business suits for my impending crushedness and took the Bakerloo Line option.
Note: neither Russell Square nor Piccadilly Circus are remotely disability-friendly. So many stairs. But eventually, finally, I got to Elephant and Castle without wanting to scream too much. Though by that point, between stairs and connections, it was about 6pm. But all I had to do was wait for my bus.
And wait. And wait. And fucking wait. I checked online because the electronic schedule kept pushing the arrival of my very specific bus back by about five minutes at a go. Turns out that particular bus route was messed up because of a collision around the New Kent Road sort of area. But eventually, after twenty-odd minutes of wait and with painkillers wearing off, I finally got on my bus and headed for home.
It was exhausting, it was expensive, and I never want to do it again. But ... I mean, I may have to, but only once a week, not four times. Fingers crossed everything goes well. Though I did realise that if I want to work in my office, I needed an ethernet switch because the wifi in this room is bullshit. So another expense, but thankfully not a huge one. I’m just praying that all the stuff about sorting out the VPN actually works.
Now, I am going to go soak in a hot bath while my very delayed dinner finishes cooking. Yes, I know, but I got home way later than I expected to and then the roast needed to settle to room temperature-ish and it’s a big one so it takes hours to roast. Also, honestly, I wasn’t that hungry when I got home anyway. Too exhausted and pain-riddled. Also it’s very cold and I’m trying not to turn on the heat but maybe I should just a tiny bit. As a treat. Hot bath first, though.
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