Luton is Luton.
You can scrub the dirt off a potato, but its still a dirt apple.
A Pomme de Terre for you Francophiles.
But a big fat chunk of my extended family lives there because of many reasons. All the family living there is probably number 1 on the list of reasons. Being born there, another reason. A slight shrug could be the third reason…
Maybe there aren’t so many reasons at all.
So, anyway, Dad lives there, thats his toolshed at the top. Dad loves hammers.
We had a party because he had been around the sun many, many times. It was quite a big deal. All the various generations of family assembled in a hall and had a big party, with a few impromptu parties thrown in. It was nice.
Between all that I showed my partner the center of town and a couple of Pubs. I felt terrible because this city was her introduction to Europe. She was polite and was overly positive about the town and my Family who can be a bit full on.
On our last day a fat homeless man passed out in the bushes outside a pub we were drinking in and Paramedics had to revive him and take him away. He was so overweight that they had to use a special stretcher apparently.
It was a really lovely day.
Welcome to London I said to her as we got off the train and stepped into Kings Cross Station. She needed to use the bathroom. There was a que of 30 people waiting.
‘Welcome to London’ I said to her as I stepped away to look up at the arched glass ceilings. A man was tinkering a lullaby on a piano.
Thousands of people poured past. Going to other trains and underground tunnels.
We went underground too.
It was no a great day to be in London. Windy. Stormy. Bitterly cold. Our summer bodies were in shock being exposed to such miserable conditions.
We hid in a great art museum called the Tate and stayed until the worst had passed. Drinking hot drinks in the cafe and watching peoples umbrellas turn inside-out as they turned towards the Thames.
We saw some nice art too.
The rest of the day was spent strolling and tubing around the tourist loop.
St Peters, Westminster, Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus…
When we got to Camden it was time for a beer at The Worlds End, and a few other places. The most horrible bottled beer ever drunk was at a little gay bar next to the tube stop.
Then it was back to Luton…