Boyfriend troubles...

The last session of class was a library orientation. You know, the usual - "this is how you use the catalogue, don't drink around the computers or you'll explode etc". But the Maughan Library is nothing like our Reid Library or the Lawbry.

It's a 19th-century neo-Gothic monster monument on Chancery Lane - the heart of British legal eagle country.

We were shown around the library which I found out used to the Public Records Office - basically a big ass "strong box" which accounts for the numerous rooms and vault like quality of the doors. However, it's the most beautiful looking vault I've ever seen.

Stained glass windows, and chandeliers in the Weston Room Chapel.

A round reading room like the one in the British Museum with a domed sky-light above.
 
Spiral staircases and thousands of books.

There is something uplifting in studying at a university with such a long history and traditions. You feel apart of a lineage of student experience - it's just a bit magical and rather beguiling.

As I walked down Fleet Street, something rather lovely happened...

The Sun Came Out.

I've never been so bloody grateful for the chance to contract melanoma in my life. As clouds cleared, as did my mood a little.

As I walked down the street to my surprise I spied St Pauls Cathedral. As I came closer, I could hear the bells ringing.

Not ringing, clanging raucously and without melody. A construction worker nearby started up the jackhammer and it felt like my brain was rattling in my skull. London is not just loud and noisy - it is insistent - it harangues.

The sight of this public piano made me smile a bit, but I was feeling low.

Even the lemony goodness of this cupcake only made me feel mildly better.

London and I, I realised then, are in the middle of a long relationship. It started with a crush because let's face it, he's really gorgeous. Up until now it's been the honeymoon period. All passion, and mystery - the excitement of not quite knowing what's going to come next. 

But now we're starting to get to know each other properly. Most days, instead of going out, we hold hands and watch telly and go to bed at a reasonable hour. And we're beginning to fight. The things which attracted me to him in the first place - the crowd, the noise, the anonymity - annoy me a little now. We're getting comfortable and the novelty has worn off.

Or so I thought.

I was walking through the City. Winding my way up and down wide roads besides suits, and trendy bars filled with office workers having after-work drinks. When I heard the distinct and enthusiastic sound of - wait for it - calypso music.

People were dancing, and clapping in the square. In the end, even I was bopping along to the bongo drums.

I hopped on the tube and got off at London Bridge - for no other reason than it sounded promising. I was right.

As I walked along Queens Walk admiring the Tower Bridge lo and behold - a free performance of Greek Play "The Trojan Horse" - DISNEY STYLE.

Think the Disney Version of Hercules, and add a bitchy queen of a slave boy, and princess with a Chavvy accent (www.morelondon.com/thescoop).

Oh London, I'm falling in love with you all over again.