My trips to London are synonymous with hectic rushes, unruly packing, tight deadlines and missed, or almost missed public transport. This time was no different. Due to some foreseen circumstances, I got home from university just in time to cook myself some lunch-cum-dinner, pack it into container, dump random sorts of underwear and clothes into a bag, throw in the toiletries, grab that sleeping bag and ciao! I was out of the house.
Without my umbrella.
Without my Oyster card.
Forgot the camera charger.
The free ticket to a play production lay forgotten somewhere on the cluttered desk.
Anyway, the most important thing is I managed to arrive in one piece at London Paddington. I had just enough time to catch the tube to Euston Square, pick up my ticket from a friend-of-a-friend who waited by UCL, over to Carr Saunders to deposit my luggage at a free storage centre, did a two hundred metre sprint to Bloomsbury Theatre and ta-da! I was on the dot for the performance I was attending.
Going to events like these are also meant a lot of “Hi! Oops, sorry. Wrong person.” or “Hey! Ermm..what’s your name again?” If you have been in Mantin for what seems to be eternity, you would get to meet many old faces at events like these, especially when it is held in central London. Basically, all I have to do is shout out “MANTIIINNN” and tens if not hundreds of them will suddenly appear like cockroaches crawling out of the crevices when you start spraying them with killer insecticides.
There IS a high concentration of Mantin people in London but I’m not going to use that method to call them out. There is always the phone calls, short messaging services, Facebook..you know the drill. If you see somebody with ridiculously messy curly hair bouncing all over her head crossing the road or cycling without any precaution whatsoever, that might be me. Don’t hesitate to say hi. I don’t bite!