FIRST LONDON DIRTY STREET LOVE:

 

We arrived in London at 1:00am, shocked & a little angry to be so early, 

the ‘plan’ had already faltered. Two Billy-n-mates from Cardiff, feeling 

‘hero’ by the second & more like meat for the dogs. The back streets 

around Paddington Station greeted us with hungry toothless grins.  

It was cold & it was raining, a combination that clings & slowly seeps 

into the bone until you cant get warm. The streets were strewn with 

unfamiliar dirt, the detritus of of a foreign city piled in lines along 

the edge of the curb. Drunks & night crawlers were performing under cover 

rituals, dancing the to rhythm of a relentless city. We were exposed. 

On the tele it had all looked so exciting, full of vibrant sound & colour. 

Here, shivering in the rain it we felt dangerously exposed & very tired, 

we needed to get off the street & get some sleep. Ross had a number, a 

mate who’d just moved to London to be a roadie. He’d promised us a place 

to crash “any time”, so we found a phone box. The lights were out, the 

receiver smelled of warm cheap perfumes, floor was puddled in piss, we 

stood in it, huddled close for warmth & dialled. 

 

“Oh,…damn!” 

Said the voice on the other end.

“Well, the thing is, it’s my brother’s place & he doesn’t want anyone

just turning up”

“But you said, ‘any time’ “

“Wait a minute…”

Silence,

Voices in the background

Hangdog faces circling the phone box, hunched shoulders, fists in pockets.

“How long will you be?”

“About half an hour, can’t afford a taxi, we’re walking”

“No, I mean how long will you be staying? y’see my brother really doesn’t 

want you here”

“He doesn’t know us,…we’re very clean”

More mumbled voices, faces pressed up against the dirty glass, a boot 

kicked the door.

“Much longer mate!?”

“Ok, he says you can come & get warm, but you can’t stay. I can give

you a tea if you like”

 

(K)