Londinium

I've been listening to the reissue of Foxbase Alpha a lot recently and tripping over nostalgia. The album takes place in a utopian, pick'n'mix version of London, of course; my real experience of London was probably more akin to this:

The Members - Solitary Confinement

A tiny box in Finchley, six feet by fifteen, sink and stove at one end, shower at the other. Enough floor space to lie down, or to pace back and forth three steps each way. Fuses that popped when I tried to turn on more than one electrical device at a time (a workman eventually confirmed that all the electrics were hooked up in some mysterious way to the shower). Scaffolding bars outside the window, in a piece of symbolism that would be rejected by the most vulgar film director as far, far too obvious.

So, for all the things I miss (the Photographers Gallery, the Rothko room at Tate Modern, the ICA, Hampstead Heath, good curry, seeing The Clientele play in a succession of tiny venues), I should be happy in LA.