It's fair to say that we didn't have much sleep that night at the Abercorn- and Cailtin and I had decided the night before, that as soon as day broke, we were hitting the street to see what we could find.
We rose around 6am (skipped the shower option for reasons I hope have been made clear in the previous blog entry) and made our way out onto the Hammersmith pavement. We thought it was worth a shot to get on the Tube over to Ravencourt station, to see what the deal was with the Globetrotter Inn- it seemed impossible that London's backpacker mecca could really be out of action. Interestingly enough, on our way through Hammersmith station, I realised that my entire 300ml bottle of water had spilled throughout my back, and I found myself unashamedly ringing out my bag on the train station platform, feeling slightly un-phased (I admittedly was concerned for my passport which narrowly escaped complete destruction) in light of the previous twelve hours.
We arrived there a little after 7am to find the gates of the Inn chained up, and sure enough, the Globetrotter was closed without explanation, and we were back to the accommodation drawing board. Caitlin knew of a hostel in Bayswater that she had stayed in before, but we were unable to contact them, and found ourselves in need of Internet access yet again. We got back aboard the Tube, and headed back to Hammersmith to see if we could find a 'cafe', and realised that nothing was open at this hour of the morning, and so we walked around the high street, looking for places to stay out of the wind. We managed to find a little staircase in behind the Hammersmith high street, where amid our laughter about the sheer tragedy of our current situation and the way people on their way to work that morning were looking at us, the tiniest bit of sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and I took that as a sign (I was clutching at spanners) that things were on the way up.
You cannot know the joy I felt when a little after 9:30am, the roller door to the front of an Internet cafe started to roll up. Despite our initial idea to stay in the Bayswater hostel, we decided that given the amount of luggage we'd need to move, we should probably look in Hammersmith first. The first place that came up was a place by the name of St. Christopher's Inn, which I had actually noticed when we came back from Ravenscourt, directly opposite Hammersmith station, but I hadn't realised that it was a hostel. From the online description, it looked clean and decent, and we didn't waste much time walking back there and booking in- I must admit, I was almost moved to tears when at about 11 am (which felt at this stage like 11pm) when the Frenchman behind the counter said there were vacancies and we could come back around 2pm to check in. I could have kissed him, I tells ya. Lucky for him there was a sizable bench in between us.
Given that my bag (phone, i-pod, passport, make-up bag, diary, travel journal) was still saturated, and that the sun was out from behind the clouds and shinning by this stage, we took off back to Stamford Brook, were Caitlin had seen a park that we could go and hang out in until our room became available. I hung out there, feeling like your regular gypsy-gal, sleeping under the trees and drying out my personal belongings. It was kinda nice.
By 4pm that day, we had cut our losses, and dealt with the fact that we had lost some cash in leaving the Abercorn a day early, but it was so worth it for regained peace of mind, and a shower, even if there was four months worth of backpacker hair clogging the drain.
We rose around 6am (skipped the shower option for reasons I hope have been made clear in the previous blog entry) and made our way out onto the Hammersmith pavement. We thought it was worth a shot to get on the Tube over to Ravencourt station, to see what the deal was with the Globetrotter Inn- it seemed impossible that London's backpacker mecca could really be out of action. Interestingly enough, on our way through Hammersmith station, I realised that my entire 300ml bottle of water had spilled throughout my back, and I found myself unashamedly ringing out my bag on the train station platform, feeling slightly un-phased (I admittedly was concerned for my passport which narrowly escaped complete destruction) in light of the previous twelve hours.
We arrived there a little after 7am to find the gates of the Inn chained up, and sure enough, the Globetrotter was closed without explanation, and we were back to the accommodation drawing board. Caitlin knew of a hostel in Bayswater that she had stayed in before, but we were unable to contact them, and found ourselves in need of Internet access yet again. We got back aboard the Tube, and headed back to Hammersmith to see if we could find a 'cafe', and realised that nothing was open at this hour of the morning, and so we walked around the high street, looking for places to stay out of the wind. We managed to find a little staircase in behind the Hammersmith high street, where amid our laughter about the sheer tragedy of our current situation and the way people on their way to work that morning were looking at us, the tiniest bit of sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and I took that as a sign (I was clutching at spanners) that things were on the way up.
You cannot know the joy I felt when a little after 9:30am, the roller door to the front of an Internet cafe started to roll up. Despite our initial idea to stay in the Bayswater hostel, we decided that given the amount of luggage we'd need to move, we should probably look in Hammersmith first. The first place that came up was a place by the name of St. Christopher's Inn, which I had actually noticed when we came back from Ravenscourt, directly opposite Hammersmith station, but I hadn't realised that it was a hostel. From the online description, it looked clean and decent, and we didn't waste much time walking back there and booking in- I must admit, I was almost moved to tears when at about 11 am (which felt at this stage like 11pm) when the Frenchman behind the counter said there were vacancies and we could come back around 2pm to check in. I could have kissed him, I tells ya. Lucky for him there was a sizable bench in between us.
Given that my bag (phone, i-pod, passport, make-up bag, diary, travel journal) was still saturated, and that the sun was out from behind the clouds and shinning by this stage, we took off back to Stamford Brook, were Caitlin had seen a park that we could go and hang out in until our room became available. I hung out there, feeling like your regular gypsy-gal, sleeping under the trees and drying out my personal belongings. It was kinda nice.
By 4pm that day, we had cut our losses, and dealt with the fact that we had lost some cash in leaving the Abercorn a day early, but it was so worth it for regained peace of mind, and a shower, even if there was four months worth of backpacker hair clogging the drain.
Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you ?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone ?
You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but know you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And say do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone ?
You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone ?
Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all precious gifts
But you'd better take your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone ?
1 comment:
Loving the blog! keeo it up- miss ya! xoxo
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