#couchsurfing to me is talking until 2am

[agapi-kalyptei]

thinking if I should get a flatmate or start hosting couchsurfers again, but then I remembered I love being alone

still, if any of you gremlins need to stay in tallinn for a few days, let me know, i got a spare room and spare keys and spare cat hair to share

[rudimentaryrecollections]

Willesden, London 19 – 22 July 2017

The Megabus stops in Newcastle at 1am. I am on the back seat. A man comes on and is talkative. He instroduces himself as Jon Proctor. He is Welsh. He was and MP staffer. Now he is the head of the ‘Keep the Ban’ advocacy group. Keep the ban on fox hunting. He is going to London to spend the day in Westminster, meeting with various MPs who support his cause for twelve hours straight. He is anxious and clearly overworked. He does this on top of a fulltime job. He is passionate about this cause which is why he does it, but cannot wait until it is over.

I say it is a good cause. But really I don’t understand it. I just know that the Tories wanted to abolish the ban, while the DUP who they formed coalition with it wanted to keep it as a condition of their allegiance. Clearly it is still up in the air whether to keep it or not.

It is funny, because I think foxes should be hunted in Australia. They are pests, and the South Australian government pays money for their furs, as encouragement to hunt them in the state. I wonder if they are endangered here, or if it is purely an ethical/moral matter.

I wake up when the coach stops outside of London to swap drivers. There is an old, hippy looking American sitting in front of the back seat on the opposite side to me. He is not chill. He shouts at the man behind him – “Stop kicking my seat!”

The man protests, he does not know what he is talking about. “Stop kicking my seat” The American says. The American is a nutter. It is a coach with little legroom. If the man had bumped his seat, it certainly wasn’t on purpose. The American’s aggression continues, and the man behind him just says “Ok.” Us on the back seat look at each other with confused looks, and shrug at each other.

I had been a moment off telling the American to calm his farm, but things settled. For ten minutes. Then the American was going off at the man again, even angrier this time. “I know you are doing it! Stop kicking my seat!” The man was not kicking his seat, he had been trying to sleep like the American. The man simply says “Ok,” again. The American snatches me a nasty glare and settles down again. Nobody on the coach would say anything too him. There is no reasoning with that kind of lunacy. Any words to the American could only have caused more argument. He gave Americans a bad name on that bus.

On the way off the bus, us on the back seat laugh and tell the man who had sat behind the American to stop bumping us on the way out. I walk and rest in London, sitting by Westminster abbey to research laptops on my phone. I am used to old buildings now. I am not so much the wide eyed tourist any longer.

I catch the train to Willesden, where my hostel is. It is very working class. The hostel is nice enough though, and has a large kitchen. I cook a large curry and read a book I bought in Edinburgh for three hours. Paradise Lost is on indefinite hiatus now. I explore Willesden. The main street has many fast food shops. I look up if there are any cinemas nearby. There is a nice independent one. I go to it and watch Baby Driver. I greatly enjoy the experience, and it inspires me creatively. I listen to the films soundtrack for days to come.

In the morning I research laptops for a long time and go to shops to look at what’s on offer. I end up ordering one above my desired budget. But it is bang for buck and I can afford it. That night I meet with some friends I hosted on Couchsurfer in Newcastle. Steph and Saneesh both have decent fulltime jobs, but live with their parents because rent is so expensive in London. It is nice to have friends to have a beer with. My laptop arrives in the morning and I take it to the local library to set it up.

Nicola is to come to London next Thursday to do a course in Greenwich. She has offered to bring my bag of belongings I had left at hers down for me. I book a hostel in Greenwich for the next week. It is twice the price of the one I am in, but the area looks nicer. It is harder to sleep that night. The pub downstairs has a DJ playing bad music until 2am. I watch Game of Thrones on my laptop which inspires my dreams.