London, Paris, and Amsterdam

Yesterday my friend arrived from London so we went out on the town. We had to - we stayed at Amnesia (owned by Barney's try the Acapulco Gold) until 22h30 and by the time she dropped off her bags it was too late to eat almost anywhere. Thankfully we headed towards Warmoerstraat and there was a Wok to Walk open. I have to say as far as fast food concepts go - Wok to Walk is brilliant.

Wow. I didn't realise Wok to Walk had so many locations...

Came back to the flat and watched Tosh.0 and old episodes of Married with Children.

We spent a great deal of time my friend and me talking about the crazy circumstances in which we met and how we used to pass the time together in London. L is one of those amazing types. She's brilliant, witty, has some many varied interests, and is a Scouser (from Liverpool) to boot.

One of my favourite stories that is L-centric is once in Islington while waiting for the pedestrian walk sign to indicate I could walk, I took a second too long and this girl behind me said "Hurry up you fat cow."

Needless to say I told her she was quite clever, but I was pretty mad. Who does that? So I hurried to meet L and G and M (my London mates) at the nearby bar where I'd coaxed them to meet me for some mid-afternoon champers (actually Bolly-Stolly's which are an Ab Fab reference to a drink Patsy likes of Bollinger champagne and Stoly vodka) on my expense account. I arrived and had a rant about this stranger, and a few minutes later when she walked by, I had to point her out.

"You're brilliant you. Yes you!" L shouted at the girl. "Don't pay her any mind," L said to me reassuringly and then raising her voice so that the girl would overhear, "she's got a face like a well-slapped arse. Like she should be saying anything about anyone."

It's thanks to Lisa that I've seen Black Books. Or have this vivid portrait of what life was like in Northern England in the late 70's & 80's (Thatcher, Thatcher, the milk snatcher) - my favourite time period of music that gave birth to The Clash, The Jam, The Sex Pistols, Madness, and of course The Smiths.

And that's when I remembered when I knew L would be more than someone I was introduced to by a mutual friend. There's a Light that Never Goes Out. Taking the night bus from Soho to Old Street I mentioned to L how I always wanted to ride the night bus while people sang in unison. So she started singing. P joined in. A few other nameless strangers roused from their drunkeness and sang along. The bus driver joined in and I followed him.

When after the first time we met L, G, and P came to Paris for the wedding of the mutual friend who introduced us we went out for big steaks and to watch the World Cup match France vs. Brazil. When France won we all marched up the rue Rivoli to the Place Etoile. We stayed out until 3 in the morning drinking champers and cheering every time we encountered someone on the street all the way back to the old house. Right after I typed that line, the song "Back to the Old House" started playing...coincidence...

L mentions to me there's a version of Morrissey singing "Every Day is like Sunday" that brings her to tears. So I'm dedicating this to her. She came from London to hang with me here in A'dam and even though a little ditty does hardly do, it's a little something anyways. Not that I want to make you cry. But to say hey girleen, I get why ya do.

Look at the Moz ham it up for his hometown. One day I will see Morrissey in Manchester and L will most assuredly be by my side.