London... and me.

London... Capital city, home of the Royals, fashion and media capital... no I don't live there, but yes I have an Oyster Card.

Public opinion would suggest that a girl of 19 years old, relatively worldly and familiar with London, would merge quite happily into the busy landscape that is England's capital... think again. Last week I was booked onto a 'How to get into Publishing' even at the Marie Claire HQs. Due to various holiday cancellations and rearrangements (too long, complicated and boring to justify an explanation) I ended up travelling to London with all the stuff I would need for not only the few days in London, but also everything for a family holiday to Kenya, the stuff at my uni home in Cardiff, plus the luggage I take around with me on a daily basis (Mary Poppins -esq). What resulted was I, waiting for the mega bus (scrimp on travel, splash out on designer clothing), accompanied by a wardrobe sized suitcase, 3 handbags, carrier bag for food and rubbish, jumpers and jackets for any weather changes between the two capitals, spare pair of shoes in hand luggage in case of emergencies, and dog (Alfie - fluffy dog rescued at a 'free to a good home, animal in need of love' sale).
Taking me in in one glance, the Indian bus driver asked, 'You have...err... your life with you?'.
'Yes' I replied, 'I'm Anna'. I shook his hand and smiled warmly. 'And this...', I said, gesturing to my enterage.. 'is my life'.
'I load', he replied. And so, in this style, Anna and bags made it to London.

I will skim over the parts of my trip that could be justified to have 'been ordinary', and I shall instead recall the parts which could only have happened to an inept and asking for trouble human being such as myself. In order to get to the publishing event, I had to take the tube from Sloane Square. As it was only supposed to take 20 mins, I decided to walk there from my aunt's flat. However, after about quarter of an hour it decided to deluge and so I opted for the bus. Within 30 seconds of this decision I had already managed to piss off most of the nearby population; tipping with rain, busy queue for the bus, oyster card rejected. While frantically rummaging in the Mary Poppin's bag for some change to pacify the annoyed (annoyed is an understatement but will do for the moment) bus driver, the queue was building up behind me.
'Where is it you want to go?', hissed the driver,
'Sloane Square', I smiled in sweet innocence. Disbelief crossed his face, he looked like he was torn between knowing whether to laugh or cry. 'Do you know where Sloane Square is?' he asked?
'I have no idea I'm afraid', I replied. Again, sweet innocence.
'Get on', came my answer. He dropped me off all of 30 seconds later... right outside the tube station . ahhh point taken.

The next two hours passed relatively uneventful, the publishing event was superb, and I made it back to the tube station in one piece. It was then when I received a phone call from my aunt, telling me to get off at Bond Street and take a cab to Home House, 20 Portman Square. I looked around me. Finding a cab on a pedestrianized street I could see was going to present some challenges, however unperturbed I set off confidently. After about 20 minutes I found a cab, and rejoicing at my discovery, gave him the address.
'Do you know where Portman Square is?', he asked me. Why was it drivers of public vehicles kept asking me this question. Um noo, but that is irrelevant. You're the one taking me, you're the one who needs to know where we're going mate. I'm merely the messenger, you're the deliverer. I took  a calming breath, bracing myself for whatever humiliation was to follow.
'No, I'm afraid I don't', came my well used reply.
'Ha, its easier to walk love. Its a 2 minute walk, just turn left at selfridges and you're there'. I might add that this conversation was taking place in the taxi stand on the road.... just by Selfridges main entrance.

Part 2 of my trip to London to follow... please keep posted.It is far from over, but better received in small doses.