The Big Smoke

Why is it that every time I have a great trip to London I return home with a bug? At the moment it's just a cold, but history has shown that this can easily turn into a serious case of bronchitis rendering me housebound and useless for weeks. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and trying to be a Murphy (ie, not bitter). It was a good visit though. The highlight was seeing Keiran Hodgson's show Lance at the Soho Theatre, a skit on the disgraced cyclist which nearly won him best of the Edinburgh Festival. Clever, funny and gorgeous in one bundle, he's very compelling to watch, and really hits the spot with his humour. I checked on Youtube the interview with Oprah where Keiran has her ask, face a tight mask of concentration: "Yes or no, did you take drugs?" Shocking answer, eyes squint, jaw tight and lips pursed "Yes I did." Cue Oprah's sad, disapproving face. It didn't happen quite like that! He made it up! But it was soooo funny. Next day it was from the ridiculous to the sublime in the form of the Giacometti exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery and lunch with an old uni friend. But we had laughs too, especially remembering the old days as naughty students when we turned up at seminars slightly the worse for wear after a boozy lunch, or got firsts for essays we'd virtually made up. If only the visit could have ended on a high, but it couldn't of course. I sat in the tube at Holborn for 20 minutes while they cleared the line ahead of whoever had decided to jump onto it and restored the power. I missed my train, and though the next one was only 30 minutes later, I had to wait at Ipswich for an hours and a half for the connection. I travelled back on a packed train with Humphrey Burton and his wife Christine, and was regaled with stories from the music world, names dropped into the conversation like confetti. Despite the overcrowding, the heat, the dirt, my exhaustion it was all quite delicious.