Day 14

Today was part II of my Men Hitting Things (and Each Other) with Sticks weekend. The weather cleared up sufficiently and, after sorting out the address and realizing it was only a ten minute walk away, I went to see some bike polo played in Islington. As I've previously mentioned, it is exactly what it sounds like, people on fixed-gear bikes with mallets hitting a ball into one another's goals. In practice, it plays more like hockey, with a lot of satisfying thwacks and the incipient threat of bodily harm. The shared punk/geek affinities of fixed-gear afficianados were on full display (if you've ever spend an evening at Fiume, you know exactly what I'm talking about, for better or for worse): anyway, a lot beautiful bikes and, not coincidentally, loads of fancy digital SLR cameras in evidence, and when someone very kindly offered me coffee they assured me it was vegan.

Like comic book culture, then, cycle culture involves a lot of black hoodies and facial hair and appears to span the Atlantic. Indeed, on a dilapidated playground decorated with fantastic graffiti under the shadow (well, there would have been a shadow if it wasn't raining) of several massive apartment blocks, I could have been in Brooklyn or Philly, if not for the preponderance of british accents.

I really would like to get a bike while I'm here. The tube is expensive and the most interesting parts of the city I've explored so far are rather afield from where I live and I've got things to do besides spend hours walking everywhere. London drivers are not especially bike friendly, however, and there's the whole left-side driving thing, which I worry would cause confusion. Opinions, among those whom I've queried, have been split 50-50 on the subject of whether a temporary transport and non-avid cyclist such as myself should even bother, athough John and Joshua both had bikes while they were here and reported no difficulties in that respect.

I wonder if it's possible to spend an entire year working on one's dissertation in London and not finish a single book. I suspect it is. I also wonder if it will be possible to spend an entire year living here without visiting a single restaurant (so far, everything has been either from the hall or sandwiches from Tesco and the like). It is a sad thing that I have no one to explore London's myriad and tacky tourist trap restaurants, as well as the various US themed establishments scattered about (cf. my earlier comments about Detroit). Someone please come and visit so that we can look for vampires with perfect hair drinking pina coladas at Trade Vic's!