What I love most about London is how you encounter the unexpected everyday. You bump into old friends on Oxford Street. You experience one culture in one place then a totally different one five minutes away. You wouldn’t expect to see someone having an energetic conversation with a block of wood-but you do. No matter how often things like this happen, you are still surprised when they do.I didn’t anticipate being serenaded on the way home from work last night but then Dalston’s answer to Johnny Cash sang to me like a bluebird.
Talkative, guitar-wielding Liam sang well (he thinks he sounds like Rod Stewart, I’m not sure this is an altogether accurate comparison) and played passionately with the grandest, strumming finales I have ever encountered off-stage. Rarely relinquishing eye-contact from behind his Bono-inspired pink sunnies, he played all the hits from U2 to Johnny Cash (his favourite). After a couple of songs, I clapped politely and gave him a cigarette as a sign of appreciation but this was apparently perceived as an encore request. “What colour are your eyes?” He asked. As soon as I told him, I recognised what was coming. There is but one song I loathe more than ‘Come on Eileen’ and that is ‘Brown-eyed Girl’. Fortunately Liam read my faux sleeping and aversion of eye-contact as was intended and returned to Cash for his final number. This sort of carry-on would not usually sit well after an exhausting night shift but, completely unexpectedly, I realised it was just what I needed.
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