A man who is tired of London...

Perhaps you're originally from London. Or like me, perhaps you're not. I have however, lived here for 22 years, the longest I've ever lived anywhere and half of my life, so I consider it home and consider myself a Londoner.

It's still an exciting place to be if you make the most of it, but I fully understand that it's not everyone's cup of tea.

I can't remember my first ever visit, but despite living about one-and-a-half hours away (actually more like two-and-a-half pre-motorway) we rarely, if ever came. This was mainly because my dad worked in London, got up at 5.30 every day and didn't get home until after 7.30. He hated London and still does, which irritates me every time he says it because being a commuter is one thing, living here quite another. He did bring us up to museums though, and I remember a trip to the Natural History Museum when I was very young.

The next one I fully remember is a May day in 1980 when we brought my German exchange student to the big city. He was hippyish, into Greenpeace and Foghat, while I was into the Specials and had never heard of Greenpeace. Nuclear power? Who cares! We had little in common. He wanted to go to Stonehenge but Dad thought it was too long a drive. He sulked hugely, ate us out of pork n bean Rancheros and grudgingly came to London. I remember it being a really hot day, Lipps Inc's Funky Town was on the radio every half hour and we went to the Tower of London. I had a cricked neck and wore a yellow sweatshirt which I promptly spilled ice cream down. I also wore jeans with red piping down the side. What *was* I thinking? Never heard another word from the German. He's probably head of some charity or something.

That year, my parents moved abroad. After that I visited London a lot. It was terribly exciting for a 16-year-old. This time it was trips to the Virgin Megastore, the Great Gear Market, Kensington Market and everywhere else that held allure. I'd walk down Carnaby Street and try and spot the offices of Smash Hits. I'd go to Harrod's sale. I'd pass scary schoolboys who looked like Grange Hill's Benny Green. I'd dare to venture to Covent Garden - and get the tube to Leicester Square. I saw Diane from Crossroads coming out of Underwoods. I sent a postcard to a friend telling them that I'd got on the tube the wrong way and had to get off at Stockwell "which is nearly Brixton!!!". How daring. Actually that's still daring.

So I kind of always knew I'd end up here. And I'm glad I did. Yes, I find it tiresome at times - the transport problems and the traffic, but it's far outweighed by the nice bits.

I'm not sure why I was moved to post this, but here it is. BTW, that Doctor Who spoof post got about 1000 visits via Digital Spy. People are so gullible.

It's Miller time!

I was singing this in the shower this morning. I got to thinking about how songs about Swinging London by those who were not from Swinging London were so romanticized as to be totally ridiculous.

This one, is a prime example, though in the main you can't beat a bit of Roger Miller. (I like all singers called Roger - McGuinn, Whittaker, er....). But despite its silliness I've always liked this song. It's so naive.

There's a great one on The In-Kraut, Vol 1, an album of German pop from the late Sixties/early Seventies (which includes the sublime Holiday Time by Hildergarde Knef), which includes a song called Swinging London by the Hazy Oswald Jet Set. This song lists all the places - groovy and non-groovy, but all groovy to them - you can find in London in a German accent. Did Battersea swing? Did Trafalgar Square swing? I doubt it.

I'm Henry The VIII, I Am by Herman's Hermits falls into this 'it's British so we're going mad for it' category, a rich vein all its own. For one brief period you could get away with anything just because it had a British accent or was in some way related to these isles.

Still, enjoy this slice of Millertime.