After Welsh camping, I set off on one of the most beautiful bus journeys ever, from Brecon to Cardiff. As my 4am bus to London was due to leave from the same place, I trotted into the Hilton in front of me and deposited my heavy backpack. Yay for 5-star hotel, esp when you're neither paying nor staying. Plenty of time to go searching for lamb, beer and drowsy rivers at the gorgeous Y Mochyn Du (Black Pig) before stubbling across a Welsh language open mike night and then an indie club where this happy loon danced for hours. 2 am was still too early to retrieve bags so I decided to visit a casino for the first time in my life. It was unexpected - the majority of the 60 or so people there at Wednesday morning 3am were of far-eastern origin, with a massive room dedicated to mahjong, and many poker-like games taking place. There were more people playing computerised roulette that the baize table versions available, and the slot machines were unlike any I'd seen before. An informative (and warm) experience for the price of half a cider...
Back to the Hilton, the lovely guy of the desk offered me a cup of tea and a window seat to wait to see the bus come in. So nice. Once on the bus I even managed to contort myself onto a double coach seat and sleep for a couple of hours, awaking to the rush hour excitement (cough) of kensington through to Victoria with an ever-more-frazzled driver. Finally having to hoist the backpack again, after a few wrong turns I got myself onto a Cambridge Circus bus to become, on the dot of 9 am, the 8th person queuing for that day's Doll's House. And as a cherry on top, got my cousin's text to say she could come after all.
After a delicious performance at the Donmar, London blurred into London things, but 3 precious experiences must be singled out:
1. I was introduced to the Islington
Fantasy Centre, a week before it closes its doors after 40 years. Erik Arthur regaled us with personal experiences of every speculative author of the last half decade while I clutched Ellen Datlow anthologies to my chest and regretted every moment I had missed. It reminded me of the first bookshops I ever knew, yellowed pages and infinite imagination. Wah.
2. By pure chance, I stumbled on the British Silent Film festival, and they were showing an absolute corker: Palais de Danse, 1928 naughtiness and menacing mostaches. Phwoar dastardly. With an absolutely brilliant 4 piece orchestra improvising seamlessly.
3. Arcadia, organised with panache by
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_elyan so long ago, whose witty, pretty, fizzy brilliance put even Doll's House in the shade, and has made me seek out everything Stoppard. And new and re-acquaintances with a very lovely group of people was the cherry on a martini night.
And now home, where CAB Volunteering is beginning to take shape, and all things Cajun cause me delight.
Kisses to all who helped make the last couple of weeks so delightful xxx
