The Gin Game...and Beefeaters, Anyway

Went and saw Paragon Theatre's production of The Gin Game by D.L. Coburn tonight. I caught the #7 north to 24th and Downing, then just walked over a few blocks. Stopped in to the coffee/ice cream shop to get a cappuccino.

As I sat in the Crossroads Theatre before the show admiring the set (it was really cool), I was struck by a very, very strong wave of something. I'm not sure what it was, but it made me want to rush out to DIA and get on the first flight to Heathrow. I haven't heard the London Calling for a time, and I guess I just forgot what it felt like. I could feel the sunlight in Kensington Park and the light rain that fell on me in Maida Vale. There was an urge for Strongbow Cider and shawarmas. And for that smiling Romanian girl who worked the Italian Restaurant on Queensway.

As much as I want to go traipsing about the ruins of Persepolis or climbing through the underground cities of Central Anatolia, there's still that magnetic something calling to me (screaming to me) to come back to the Square Mile, to Portobello Road, to Marble Arch, to Blackfriars, to the Tower, and back to late nights with Adam, Melissa, Matt and all the others.

Quando hominem taedet Londinii, eum taedet vitae.