I don't think I ever told you about the man with the dogs and the cat. I met him one sunny morning in early September, when I was sitting on Ros' window sill, pissed off my face. He walked his four dogs and a cat and we had a little chat, which I don't remember a thing about. All I know is that after the chat I told my cousin I would stay in London for good.
Ros saw him the other day, walking his dogs, but no cat, down Goulton Rd. That is most wonderful!
Because it means he is real and I didn't just imagine him in my drunken state. And I was very, very drunken that morning, cause I'd been sitting there on the window sill the whole bloody night, drinking one can of Red Stripe after the other, only leaving it to go to the off license to buy more beer.
I think it just took about 10 litres of booze for me to get up the courage to make a decision like that. And now I am here, a little proud that I went through with it when I had sobered up. And very happy.
I sometimes wish I could remember what the Catwalker said to me that morning, but secretly I'm glad I don't, cause it was probably something really boring and meaningless. Anyway, I blame the Catwalker for now being here and also for always having to stay here. Forever. Cause...
I got my wallet stolen on Thursday. It had all the important things in it. ID card, bank cards (3), 100 euro I stupidly carried around all the time for no reason. Student ID, bahncard, insurance cards.
I went on the homepage of the German embassy in London and now listen to this: It's not possible to get a new ID card there. I have to fly to Germany to get a new one. In order to fly to Germany I obviously need an ID card, tho. Or a passport, if I don't have one. So I have to get a fucking passport from the embassy, fly to Germany, apply for a new ID card and then pick it up three weeks later. Or I could wait until 2013, of course, cause THEN it will be possible to get ID cards in embassies all over the world. Am still considering the options. Maybe I'll just apply for the British citizenship.
Am also thinking about using the occasion to get my name changed.
So right now I am utterly broke and without identity in dangerous, dangerous London. Luckily I have a Ros, who feeds me until I have access to my money again. Unfortunately, though, Ros got her bag stolen on Friday. It is a truly dangerous city, this.
We all were in an old man pub in Dalston to see The Dim play, which was fun. A man in a stripy jumper made us all waltz around with him and an old woman invited me into her toilet cubicle for a line of cocaine. And then the bag was gone and two friends of Ros' got beaten up by three teenage girls in Ugg boots and that, obviously, wasn't fun anymore.
To get over the shocks of one stolen wallet and two stolen bags and lots of bruises and other injuries, Ros and me decided to have a quiet Saturday and so left the house in the afternoon to go for a walk in Hampstead Heath. First, tho, we decided to pop over to Hammersmith, where Zuzana had her leaving party, cause she'll go travelling for a while. Has a one way ticket to Argentina booked and who knows when I will see her again, so that was quite important to me, to say goodbye to her.
The house that party took place in was M.E.N.T.A.L. Never seen anything like it in my life. the owners were on holidays in Kenya. They missed a good party!
The walk in fridge was full of boozes and so was the morgue like freezer. The magic kitchen, where you touch a wall and a door opens was full of lovely food and the 5 bathrooms (one of which had walls that were one single mirror) full of vomiting people!
Ros and I didn't stay too long, cause Ros' friend Bree, who is an amazing cook, had invited us for dinner to her house, which was just up the road. So we went there, ate lovely food and drank lovely wine and got all silly in the heads and ended up hiding under the bed and in wardrobes and smearing dog poo all over the house.
When the house was all brown and smelly, we decided to leave. But instead of going back to Hackney we got some beers at the off license and went back to the mental house where Zuzana and her friends were still partying. Then things get blurry. Something about tumbleweed and lions. Passed out on the floor at around 6 am this morning.
Long story short: London is still fun and amazing! Thank you, Mr Catwalker.
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