Imagining London

He imagined London. It was the sort of thing writers were meant to
do. To dream of the capital and its environs as if it were some big pot
into which could be poured all humanity.

The London of Bloomsbury with its elegant houses and refined manners,
so different from the rough and seedy world of Soho two streets away.
Camden, Kennington, Kensington, Wembley and Wimbledon. They all echoed
as the train clacked its way from Cardiff.

What does Cardiff have? he thought. Ely, Caerau, St Peter's and other
areas known only for their drunks and brutality. Hardly a proper place
at all. Nobody wrote the great Cardiff novel setting the journey on a
journey from Central Station to Queen Street or down to the Bay.

His coffee was cold but he was damned if he was going to go back to the
buffet to buy another. The prices were outrageous.
He had an A-Z and a Rough Guide so far in his bag but so far he hadn't
consulted them. No point. He would discover his London. The one which
reflected his identity and most suited his desires.

Obviously he'd need his A-Z to get him to his room in Streatham and to
help him find his job near Victoria. Sam had been pretty honest in
describing Streatham as a hole and the room as 'shit' but it was a step
in and it would be good to have a friend when he got there. Someone he
could sample life with.
Although in all the time he'd known him he couldn't ever remember
having a night out with Sam, just the two of them. He'd have to find
his own friends. London friends who could show him the sights. Not
Cardiff leftovers who just happened to have landed a job at Merrill
Lynch.

What the bloody hell was Sam doing living Streatham when he earned a
mint?
As soon as he could he'd move out and get his own place. Or if that was
impractical he'd move in with some of his new London friends. And they
could go out. Do stuff.

His suitcases were behind him and he worried briefly about whether his
clothes would fit in. Would he look like the outsider he would be for
the first few weeks at least. He could always get some new ones. The
job should pay okay. Very okay if he hit his target which he should
do.

"London" he thought and the train rattled on.