lag and cut some poor person’s ear off! Bouncing my legs up and down nervously, I look at my phone screen and notice that it’s picking up a Wi-Fi signal. When I select it, it has the name of the hotel I’m staying at, and blessedly it connects without needing a password.
I search for a trip planner to tell me how to get to Waterloo Station. The salon is in one of the shop fronts housed in the actual station so finding it shouldn’t be hard, but it’s going to be over an hour’s journey – I’ll need to make sure my phone is fully charged so I'll have something to do.
I’m starting to wish I had sprung a few extra pounds for one of the rooms with a television. I have games and books on my phone, but it would be nice to kick back and watch something.
My stomach growls and I realise that it’s been hours since I’ve eaten. I remember seeing a McDonalds on the shuttle ride here so I grab my things and start walking.
Chapter 5
Elliot
The next morning starts with a living area littered with hung-over bodies. A new housemate was a call for a mid-week celebration at one of the local pubs. Our flat is only a five-minute walk from Waterloo station, so we took the train (although maybe I should call it the ‘Tube’ now) to London Bridge and walked to a place called the Southwark Tavern, it was amazing – I felt like I was in a movie or something because pubs just don’t look like that in Australia. Well, not any that I’ve come across anyway.
It’s on a corner and has this round tiled façade, with leadlight windows and these old-style lamps that were awesome – they looked like the old gas lamps that had to be lit manually every night. I felt like taking photos but didn’t want to stand out as a tourist when everyone else was acting as though they belonged. Inside it was wood panelling as far as the eye could see with leather cushioned bar stools set around high tables.
We ate my first English pub meal and drank to our heart's content. It was a great initial night and my roommates all seem to be really nice people. Naomi is a bit full on, but if I can just call upon the old Elliot from when I was a solicitor, I can manage to keep her at arm’s length.
All up there are six of us in a three bedroom flat, two in every room. I’m with Brian; he's an accountant working in the city – he seems alright; he's a pretty small mousy looking guy with glasses and a pointed nose. Naomi and Petra are the only two girls, and they share the largest room. Gavin and a guy called Shane, share the third room. Shane looks like your typical Aussie surfer stereotype. He's a little shorter than me - around six foot, has longish blond hair, blue eyes and a medium build. He talks in a slow laid back manner, sounding as though he spent a lot of his teen years with a bong in his hand, he says he works in advertising – doing what; I have no idea.
Work wise, the rest of them are all in hospitality – either behind the bar or waiting tables at a restaurant. I guess that means that the flat will rarely have all of us there at the same time – a good thing I guess as it could start to feel pretty crowded if we were constantly on top of one and other.
I don’t start work until Monday, so I have a couple of days to hang out and sight see. I’m planning on taking the tube in, so I can do one of those London open top bus tours. That way, I'll be able to shamelessly take tourist photos to send home for my mum, who is already begging me to post pictures on Facebook for her.
Naomi decides to invite herself along, saying that she has only been here a month herself and hasn’t really done the tourist thing yet.
“Listen Naomi, I was kind of hoping I could just do this one alone,” I tell her, trying not to sound completely rude.
“Oh, well… that’s ok, I’ll go another time,” she says, looking completely disappointed.
“Oh come on Elliot, be a good sport – what’s the harm in taking her with you?” Shane puts in.
“Fine,” I sigh, “Just