Life. London. This moment in June.

It's been mentioned a few times that summer does not make many appearances in London. That once or twice during the "summer months" it will get hot and sunny. Or that it makes a fleeting appearance and is gone before you know it.

Well, it was a lie. It's been one long heat wave peppered by cool spells and a few drops of rain. Which would be fine if my flat didn't face full west, making it an oven for most of the day with no breeze to cool it down at night. So I whine more than I get work done. And I'm tired and cranky. So there.

I had my lovely week with Graham. Then I had nothing. I played hookie from my volunteer work on the Friday and went and saw a movie with Andy instead. Then we sat in a cool, airconditioned Starbucks and had coffee for about three hours. It was a good distraction from my empty flat, as Danielle was visiting home as well.

I think in there we had one ridiculously cold, rainy day, which was absolute heaven. Then back to hot and sunny.

I met Chad for lunch near campus, and learned that he will be staying in London with his girlfriend now rather than leaving town. I'm very glad, as I'd miss having him around. His dissertation studies took him to Brussels and Paris this month. I should have thought of something exciting like that to do! We had coffee at a cafe on a tiny little street overlooking the British museum. It felt very European.

Then I took refuge in the cool Science library and did some reading and organized my evening. I'd had a few days of absolutely nothing and then suddenly had more plans than I knew what to do with! I ended up spending the night with Andy and an extra ticket to see Death Cab For Cutie play in Brixton. We met up near Oxford St. where the tube was closed. They were literally refusing entry because the platforms were too full. I've never seen anything like it, but apparently it's common.

The Tube is brutal in the summer. It is not air conditioned at all, so you can imagine how awful it must be if it's crowded to capacity - the heat and the smell. Blech. So we stayed above ground and killed time by wandering around Carnaby St., and drinking a cool pint of cider until they were letting people back on. We managed to just catch a waiting train, naughtily prying open the doors, and down south on the Victoria line we went all the way until the end.

The show was excellent, though the venue's floor slanted and not knowing where I'd end up that night, I had my bag filled with heavy library books. I enjoyed the show, but my back was not enjoying me. Afterwards we stopped for another pint to cap off the evening at a pub between the venue and the train. The location was ideal for this sort of stop off after a show, but the locals did not seem put off by the possibility of swarms of concertgoers decscending upon their hangout. So for a few minutes, a mass of stunned indie hipster kids looked around, considered their fate, and by the time I'd gotten out of the toilets, had mostly backed slowly out again. Made of sterner stuff, Andy braved the aura and had a drink, and I joined him. Then watched as a hefty Jamaican(?) woman went on a rampage around the entire bar, yelling and throwing things while just about everyone else ignored her and I nervously eyed the door. Curiously, the barstaff tried to control her but did not forcibly remove her from the property as would seem appropriate. This is because, as became obvious as time progressed, she WORKED there. Oh, the things you come across south of the river.

Finally, we skedaddled and headed back onto the train to the safety of Northwest London. Andy hopped off to transfer to his line home, and I stayed on a few stops more to transfer to mine. But, it was not to be. I waited on the Northern line track for a good long time and it became obvious it would be a good long while more before a train actually came. A drunk man was arguing with a TFL employee over the "Use In Case of Emergency" speaker about how it had said there was good service, and this was NOT good service. Dazed by all the crazy people who are out around midnight on a weeknight I decided the bus was a better option, and let me off closer to home anyhow.

So I emerged aboveground into the cool night air. I had a few minutes until the bus was to come and was absolutely famished, having not eaten since my outing with Chad about 12 hours before. I decided to hop into the nearby Tescos and grab a sandwich, and there was sexually harassed by both the security guard AND the cashier. By then I'd had enough of the overwhelming atmosphere of Insanity that had colored most of my day so far. I boarded the bus and twenty minutes later, without much incident except continually being stepped on by a very drunk girl, I was home, and spent the next few hours ranting to Graham about my night and passing the insanity on.

Friday morning I visited Claire who called me moments after walking in the door after her three-week archaeological dig in Israel. Then I went to work at UCL and tried to make up for the fact that I hadn't been there the week before. Then a brief stop home and back into Camden Town to meet Christine. We were to see a band she really loves that were playing at an art gallery there. It was also rumored to be a birthday do for Carl Barat, and we were allegedly using her connections to get snuck in. It was all very mysterious and exciting.

We had a drink first at the World's End, but that didn't last long as we were latched onto by a party of very inebriated men who wanted us to join them for some Dom Perignon, which they could neither pronounce, nor appear to afford. We left to avoid them and to find this gallery. Find it we did, and were confronted by 5 very large security men dressed in black guarding the entrance. Very intimidating, so we stood back and Christine called her friend to find out about getting in. She couldn't get through, but the guy in charge of the rope was like "Wanna come in?" Christine looked at him suspiciously and said, "Can we?" And he was like, "Sure!" I guess the 4 other burly men were there for decoration alone. We wandered upstairs and found the place mostly empty and the one band she wanted to see had cancelled. Not wanting to spend £5 just to scope out a rockstar, she nixed it and we spent the night wandering up to Chalk Farm and back down to Mornington Crescent, having drinks, watching Italy beat the Ukraine, and capping off the night with cheap Indian food.

Saturday, Danielle and I made our way to Hackney to Chad's flat where he was having a party. Not many people arrived, so it wasn't the library school reunion I'd hoped. But that's ok, becaue it would have just made me feel depressed about my thesis. On our way there, the England v. Portugal match was on, and the streets were vacant. Every few minutes, though, a massive roar would rise from pubs and flats all around. By the time we got to Chad's, the game was in penalties and they were watching with the volume on mute. So all you could hear were the shouts of joy or anger from outside, depending on what we saw happen on the TV. And then it was over, and it was complete and utter silence - the sound of an entire nation stunned. All four of us Americans, we moved on rather quickly chatting and munching on yummy food. I can only imagine the collective weeping and throwing of pint glasses that was going on in the rest of the country.

The rest of the night was spent in their cool garden, eating and conversing and debating. We stayed until it was too dark to see anymore, and then made our train back home. I was so stuffed I could hardly bend, and thoroughly exhausted. It was a good Saturday.

Sunday was just as nice. I headed west this time, out to East Acton and had a suburban afternoon at Christine's flat. Despite the heat, we attempted a barbeque in her garden and grilled up some steaks and chicken with her flatmate Bruce. It was a rough start, but ultimately quite delicious. The rest of the afternoon was spent in front of a fan watching TV. Glorious TV! How I miss you so! The best was watching Batteries Not Included, which I haven't seen in ages!

It was a good, relaxing weekend. Now off into this week, which is becoming increasingly busier. I might be making an excursion to Stonehenge, which I have yet to see. Then I believe Anna will be in from Sweden. And perhaps off to Manchester next week? This summer will be gone before I know it.