from sudbury to camden

So the time came for me to leave the humble old town of Sudbury Hills to move on to bigger and better (and more central) things. Though my presence proved invaluable for fetching Foster’s from the fridge, opening tricky bottles, and stimulating lulling conversation with questionable input, I felt that in the words of Gough Whitlam, “It’s time”. But Sudbury Hills and its’ many wonders will always occupy a special place in my heart, in the same way that my nostalgia for rusty nails and asbestos walls also holds a special meaning in my heart. So it was with great sadness that I took a last tour of old Sudbury, seeing the sights and sounds that its’ CBD offers (or 200m of main street). To enlighten you unto some of these hidden beauties of London, here is what I saw at Sudbury…

When I saw porn sitting atop of my Dr Seuss, it was obvious that Sudbury and I had different artistic ideals.

Only 'safer' than 'Nontoxic Food' next door.

Sudbury can be characterised by two things: Chicken, and Muslims. This photo has them both in it, which is why it is great.

Chicken shops in Sudbury are as widespread as Centrelinks in Logan.

4 Privet Drive.

Gas here is a luxury good.

Ah, and those crazy Irish boys with their crazy ISO settings.

And after lugging my enormous luggage across five different tube stops (thanks to ‘improvement works’ disrupting the lines), I arrived at my new hometown, CAMDEN. I decided to explore my new neighbourhood and discovered that my backyard is home to the Electric Ballroom, Camden Proud, Camden Barfly, Koko, Underworld, and of course the markets! So imagine living in the valley, but minus the wankers and double the hipsters. I can tell I’m going to like it here. Oh and did I mention Amy Winehouse is my neighbour? Well she is, and we’re doing lines of coke later. What’s more is that it’s quite similar to my modestly beautiful hometown of Wynnum, so I pretty much already feel at home.

Like Wynnum, Camden boasts many impressive vintage and op shops including this one especially tailored to the mature population (or those of us who appreciate a mature fashion style).

Op shops and markets and novelty betting agencies, oh my!

Nothing screams quality like this aesthetically pleasing "99p stores" sign.

The stunning panoramic view of Kings Cross Station from my bedroom window.

That Nice Launderette - nothing like That Lousy Launderette in Sudbury.

With EVERSHOLT STREET right down the road, I'm sure I'm going to feel right at home

The only down side is that it’s quite a hike from my work, with a nightbus coming only hourly after I finish at 12:30, which means I won’t get home until 1:45am. I haven’t seemed to mind too much, as usually after work, two pints of each beer are poured while us hardworking bar staff kick on from where our raucous patrons left off half an hour earlier. I’m loving work at my classy Earl’s Court pub, with an eclectic mix of Aussie, gay, and posh patrons to keep me entertained. However a main challenge is to fine tune my pub banter skills. Usually I am on the producing end of talking drunken BS to bartenders, but now that I’m on the other side I have to choose to either take a mature line and make rational contradictory arguments, or seep to their level and talk BS right back to them. Ah, the paradox of being a bullshit artist.

Now that I’ve set myself up (meaning I’m employed, found a home, and no longer bankrupt) and have a few mates here and there – and am networking my way into the ‘Camden scene’ - I’m starting to get busier, so don’t expect too much. In fact, I’ve almost forgotten everyone in Australia anyway. Why is this “Mark Fitzpatrick” person who plaguing my Facebook? Who is this “Halle Johnson” character that sounds a bit familiar? Deary me!