NORMAL LIFE: Nick in London (1st-3rd of September, 2006)

I had a one flight left over from a reverse Helsinki-London-Helsinki flight so I booked a cheap Ryanair return (costing just £23) and went to see my friend Nick in London for the weekend. It's funny really, I treat aeroplanes likes cabs - I like to travel and I don't tire so easily like some people do. On the early morning flight, I had the three seats on the left side of the plane to myself so, planting myself in the middle, I got to work on proofreading/adding the final commnets to my dissertation. To the right were three young, tarty looking Finnish girls. Their excitement at visiting London was as visible as the dark eyeliner each of them had applied to their faces.

Anyway, the BA flight touched down at Heathrow at 9am and I headed straight for the tube; the tube is always an adventure. I jumped onto one of the trains, but noticed that a sign said that the other train was highlighted as 'The First Training To London' so I changed train, didn't I? After settling myself down, I noticed other people were following suit. Imagine my dismay when the other train departed first! And that wasn't the worst of it: within minutes, I had a man with overwhelming BO sitting on my right with a feminine guy sitting to my left, watching me fiddle through the songs on my MP3 player religiously. Sitting opposite me were three Indians - they seemed like grandparents (the woman was dressed in a beautiful sari) and a grandson in his early twenties. They chatted excitedly, obviously catching up after their arrival in the UK.

When I arrived at Victoria, I boarded the training to West Norwood. I was the only one of the train, which was lovely! As the train pulled into Balham station, I noticed a pub called 'The Bedford' which reminded me of Bree for he articlises everything e.g. when you go to the Germany.

By 11am, I was drinking coffee in Nick's kitchen in West Norwood. We catched up and I listened intently to Nick telling me about his recent clash with the chair in the living room which results in an unbelievable knee injury for which he was struggling to get physiotherapy for on the NHS. His situation angered me and was a reminder of how bad the health service had got in the UK.

Nick and I decided to head into Clapham for some lunch, and to do some shopping. We ended up at the KFC, something we don't have in Finland. We relaxed back home in the afternoon and I laughed with Nick that, these days, flights are like cabs. We calls me a jetsetter every now and then, but honestly: I had an unused flight so I thought why not use it.

We headed out into the West End about 7pm. We checked out Virgin and HMV for the DVDs, went to the Duke of Wellington pub in Soho, then for Chinese in China Town, followed by a last one at the Admiral Duncan in gay Old Compton Street. We both got on the last tube back to Victoria, Nick trying his best to hobble along with the crowd. When we got back to West Norwood, however, I decided to go out as I must have been overtired because I didn't feel tired.

On my way back at 3am, weirdness struck again like it tends to do on public transport; sitting on the top of a double decker red bus (how British!), the couple sitting in front of me were eco-warrior types. You know, the ones who always wear scarves and never wash their hair? The thing is they were reciting Shakespeare to one another - why won't they just that guy rest in peace? It's true though that London's people are weirdly beautiful, a diverse as the clouds that grace the skies each day. As I walked the final 500 metres to 'home', I passed a church packed with a turban-wearing congregation. It was 3.30am, I wondered as shook my head in confusion. My wonderment was disturbed with the wailing of a nearby car alarm.

The next morning, I woke up earlier than the others for my body clock was 2 hours ahead (on Finnish time), wasn't it?! It was a very mellow day - we went shopping in Victoria and, with a plan to watch TV during the evening, I bought some jump chicken drumsticks from Marks & Spencers. Couple with salad and Rose wine, we watched the impressive comic movie, Fantastic 4 (blimey, the one who regular catched fire set me on fire, he's gorgeous!), and some episodes of a hilarious Australian Comedy, Kath & Kim.

When we woke up the next morning, Nick's landlord, let's call him the German, joined us for breakfast. Well, he had some kind of fried vegetables with curry powder while we had good old, traditional English bacon rolls smattered with ketchup. Yum! This German is a very interesting character - he has been living in the UK for 8 years and has been very successful in his work, although he really thinks he's the bees knees and is constantly thinking he should be paid more. The funny thing is that our conversations always turn to politics and we always end up arguing over stupid things which leads me to two conclusion - either he doesn't have enough social stimulating conversation or he's a frustrated foreigner who can't leave simply because he feels trapped by the favourable circumstances he is currently in.

Whatever the case, we had a ridiculous conversation about how English has become the global language and, apparently, it was my fault. While the English started the global diffusion of language through the commonwealth, it was actually the American's that have continued and literally forced it onto everyone. We agree upon that much, and I also claimed that the world could just have easily been speaking French, German or Spanish, but the English clearly made the biggest mark. He didn't like that at all, and then started accusing me of not knowing my history. What is it with people who claim to know our own history better than they do? I mean, the history we are taught has ready about has in fact been written - and re-written - countless times so who really does know the real story? Get over it!

Anyway, the German is an argumentative one and, even after attempting to change the subject, he would somehow manage to find a way to get back onto the subject again. One thing I can't stand is people who can't let things go! I left that house, quite gladly actually, after 1pm. I had a long journey to Stansted airport for my 5pm flight - I was better prepared for the flight this time after the drama two weeks earlier when Bree and I flew in and out of Stansted. Let's just say that the second time around things didn't go much better, BUT my luggage arrived at the other end. As usual, as I dozed on the AirPro bus bound for Helsinki, I was happy. Another exhausting but fun weekend under my belt, but nothing beats going home to Bree.