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The Patterns Of Fairytales



Saturday 1st June 


I woke up early. 7.32am....well early for me. I packed my last things up and made my way via a lift from my mother to Bournemouth station. It was time to head to London for the first time since September last year for the same reason as September last year....to see The National. After a year of university that has flattered to deceive it felt necessary to enjoy something at the end of it. Ironically on the same day as the SUBU summer ball where many of my course mates had gone with

Their friends to send off the first year of university. It in a different manor I had chosen to do the same by heading to Victoria Park, Hackney, to do the same. I arrived at London Waterloo at around 10.50 and headed for Canary Wharf, there I met my contact for the next 22 hours C. Downs. We travelled via DLR and tube to Hoxton for lunch. Mestmission was the place and we both ordered “Towerblock” Burgers. They were nice. Soon we found ourselves in a Wetherspoons (As if by pure destiny) then it was time to head to Victoria park for the gig/festival/dunno. We arrived and as I got my ticket for inspection I realised the guy who was scanning my ticket was from my old course at Southampton (Music journalism) who had just finished his third year.... a reminder to me of how quickly time goes as you get older....


Upon arrival we had a quick look around the “festival site” it wasn’t big. We compared perhaps unfairly to Glastonbury having both been veterans of the Somerset festival three times. We sat at an abandoned bench while Warpaint played and discussed politics and security. It was soon time for Philadelphia kings The War on Drugs to play their set. Adam Granduciel would once again despite not being helped by the festivals sound set up show his mastery of lead guitar. We watched while they played yet another dazzling set before it was time to head to the other stage, known as the east stage for The National. 


Curt decided he was hungry and was tempted by haloomi fries. However the length of the cue would prove too much for the 25 year-old hipster. We waited for The National patiently and they soon appeared. Matt Berninger, maybe the coolest man in the world right now fronting them. The 47 year-old both me and Curt decided was infect cooler than us (but that’s not difficult to achieve...) The National Played another great set, which seemed to act as some kind of soundtrack to one couple who appeared to have had a massive falling out or a break up. A man in a white shirt furious one moment, crying into his mates arms the next was difficult to watch but seemed adequate with songs by the National such as ‘Graceless’ playing so unintentionally ironically in the background. We then were treated to Adam Granduciel from the war on drugs joining The National on stage a sight so rare and so surreal me and Curt were stunned. We joked it wouldn’t be long before Kurt Vile zip wired in with his guitar to join Granduciel, Berninger and co on stage. 


Soon it was time to head home. By which I mean Curt’s flat located somewhere on

The isle of Dogs. (Ironically I didn’t see any dogs during my stay) we eventually got back after being ignored by a bus. Curt went to bed and I slept on the sofa, knowing I had an early start the next day.




Sunday 3rd June 


I woke up at 7.32am on the Sunday. It was a quick process I packed my stuff up said ciao to Curt and left for The DLR. Eventually I made it to Tower something tube station and eventually to Victoria where I got the Gatwick express. I was soon at Gatwick and took the shuttle bus which was packed.....to the north terminal, I made it through security and headed straight for the nearest Spoons. I wanted to get there early in order not to miss the flight or leave it too late, but I ended up being 4 hours early....I walked around the expensive shops and cafes probably about 15 times before I killed any kind of time and just as I thought too myself “yay only an hour and a half to go” I got a message on my easyJet app saying there was a delay. Anyway long story short I eventually got the plane and landed in Pisa. I then got a taxi to Pisa Centrale. Last year when I was in Pisa a taxi driver through my mother’s handbag, nearly crashed into parked cars, squared up to my brother and swore at us in Italian, so I wasn’t expecting a grade top of the range service, what I did get was a different kind of Italian taxi driver psychopath, one who was angry more at other Italian taxi drivers. Shouting angrily at a Taxi for being parked in a Taxi rank; the fare came to 9, I have the guy 10 and left. I then asked the ticket office lady for a ticket to Florence SMN (Santa Maria Novella) to which she then went mental after I didn’t hear her the first time, shouting “oggi o domani, today or tomorrow” too which I could only respond in stark naked English “well today.....to which she gave me the ticket shaking her head like I’d just told her I killed someone, I couldn’t help but add in Italian “dai oggi, ovviamente....”. I left before she could respond. 


Soon I was on the train a largely uneventful journey except for me interjecting to stop 2 clearly British sisters from getting off at the wrong Florence station. They were grateful I hope.... I headed to my air bnb accommodation a nice big double room with an en suite bathroom near Porta Al Prato about 20 minutes walk from the historic centre from the city. After resting for an hour I headed out to the Ponte Vecchio, a beautiful romantic spot where two years ago I kissed my at the time girlfriend Megan. I got back there and remembered the moment before finally putting to rest the past and thinking about the future. I strolled to the piazza signora and saw the palazzo vecchio whilst thinking of someone else (not Megan) a French lady I’ve recently met. Soon I realised I was bloody hungry and decided to stop and eat at a place on the corner. “La Borsa” I had a pizza and a coke and it came to 23 euros....yes 23 euros for a pizza (that wasn’t even big) and a coke. After finishing this I wondered the streets and piazzas some more before I started to feel my tiredness taking over. I got a cab (with a relatively sane driver) back to Porta al Prato and rested. 




 


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