XXI: The Boy is Back

Fuck me, England! So I’ve been back in ol’ Blighty for twenty hours or so & already I’ve managed to gain a hangover (courtesy of my first wine in three months) & register down the dole office for mi free cash. I find myself enjoying the hospitality of one of mi close buds who has recently moved to Finsbury Park. It’s pretty weird being home, but then tres cool as I realise that travelling on your own in an exotic land puts your true personality in a box & you become some kind of caricature of yourself. But now I’m back, I’m me & I’m buzzin.

This time a couple of days ago I was in Bombay airport. The wait wasn’t as bad as I thought, as I hook’d up with an English couple & a crazy French Canadian. We whiled the while with poker, chat & at one point the Canadian got out his Tablas, on which I borrow’d this Kenyan geezer’s guitar & we had a full scale psychedelic jam in the waiting lounge, much to the confusion of the Indians. It was sat with these guys in a cafe outside the airport when I had the last funny moment of the tour. For three months I’d kept a watchful eye on mi wallet, after ev’ry brush my hand would go straight to my pocket to check & nothing had happen’d. After spending my very last rupees on a meal, however, & thus emptying my wallet, some fucka stole it. I’d have loved to have seen his face when he open’d it… pretty funny.

The flight back was pretty tame after experiencing 20-hour train rides… two square meals, constant tea, sexy-savvy hostesses & I finally got to watch Ocean’s Eleven. The highlight of transit in Kuwait was beating this guy 3-0 at travel connect four, much to his arrogant annoyance. It was cool breaking thro’ the clouds over London, seeing Tower Bridge & the Millennium Wheel b4 the drop into Heathrow. At the airport I got chattin’ to Stefano, an Italian I’d met in Bombay, who was faced with a £300 flight to Milan. I told him to fuck it off, come to Simon’s with me & get a cheap Ryanair ticket for £50 – which he did. He goes home tomorrow & with him my last bit of Indian karma.

So I’m back… it’s been nice to see the roses in bloom & feel the sun on the nape of my neck, however lightly. I’ve managed to miss miserable Jan, Feb, March & early April & am fully prepared for the English Summer, so bring it on…

18/4/2002
London

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