This afternoon, after the course, walking up Tottenham Court Road, together with all these people - and Franz, the nice guy from our course - a plastic bag with books I bought at Borders, all intent on reading them soon, Salman Rushdi, Zadie Smith, Hanif Kureishi, I felt like home again for sure. It was such a good time in my course at London University then, the share with the girls,the mad nights of love after going out. Some drugs - never much, but much more that at home in our alpine republic or even in neighbouring Zuerich. It's so good to be here again.
This evening's play was not so sensational, "The Philanthropist" by Christopher Hampton. The theatre room was attractive, and so was the acting, but the play is a little juvenile - fantasies of a young writer. The female parts are just horrible and stereotype - what the authour thought women are like, I guess. Still it was not a bad evening, and the Punjabi Meal before midnight was just delicious.
But I have a double bed in my room which is half empty and I think it would be just great one of these nights to fill the void.
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