london notes

Feb/ March 2016

• London air on a February morning: slices like an unseen dagger.
• Black kid being picked up by 7 cops at London Bridge.
• Latino having serious skype chat with novia on overland.
• I keep expecting to run into people i know. #montevideohead
• In the imperial war museum there is an interactive sub-Schwitters political photomontage workshop. Giant cut outs of  Obama/ Trump/ Merkel/ Blair & co are available for pre-teens to rebrand with their slogans. War is evil. Peace is good. Trite speakthought in a proto-libertarian brainwash. There are no anti-monarchy or pro-putinist options. The language of protest is reduced to a child's dribble.
• The Romanian busker on the tube is so angry he shouts at his two younger companions. He plays his sax like it’s a machine gun. People cringe before his anger. No one gives money.
• 2 Argentines at the bar in the Ritzy being told by the waitress that uni in the UK is very expensive. She asks how much it costs in Argentina. The young man looks at her and says...ah, it's free -
• In Punta Arenas, towards the end of the world, we came across the story of Ernest Shackleton, intrepid and vanquished arctic explorer. Walking down the hill from my sister's obscure corner of London to Sydenham station, I pass one of those big old houses with a blue plaque. The man who lived there was the explorer himself. A world so big and small all at the same time.
• 2 pubs face one another at the Limehouse end of Commercial Road. One is The Royal Duke. The other The Royal Duchess. Both duke and duchess are shut now. The guillotine has fallen.
• My friends move into a new house. Bought by her stepfather. To get them on the property ladder. Shortly after, the stepfather starts receiving letters. 3 or 4 a week. Demanding that the sender is paid the full value of the house, which is legally his. He threatens to have my friends evicted. They report this to the police. The sender now lives in a psychiatric hospital. 20 years ago he lived in the house, which he lost in a messy divorce. He keeps an eye on land registry records. Every time someone new buys it, he tries to claim his old house back.
• Big man in homburg on train, looks a bit like Churchill: "Damascus would have us." His companion: "I bet they would." Later in the conversation I realise they are talking about weapons sales. The last thing I hear is the other man, younger, looks ex-services: "You weren't there for the meeting with King Abdullah, were you? I thought he was jolly good."
• T is an actor. He was hired to do an advert for Italian cornflakes. He was flown to Nepal for the shoot. Himself and a girl eating cornflakes against the backdrop of Everest. the Italians treat the Nepalese like servants. They spend a couple of days setting up. The morning scheduled to film the wide with the mountain it's foggy. The next day too. The next as well. The mountain refuses to cooperate. The following day they get out the green screen. Everest will be added in in post.
• Sitting in the window at Curzon Soho, a portly figure on a bike goes by. There is something familiar about him. It is the mayor himself. Five minutes later the cafe space is swathed in the irrefutable odour of shit.