On weekends

I arrived in London shortly before 9pm, and it had already been raining for hours. It had been raining -- a steady, grey drizzle -- when I finished work at 6, it was raining when I was sat at the station an hour and a half later waiting for a train. I got to Kings Cross and decided to walk the last part above ground, in the rain, rather than take the Death Star-like tunnels.

It felt strange. Not like returning home, but returning somewhere that had been very familiar for a while. It made me smile, walking in the rain with my umbrella, and listening to the car horns and the sirens and the throngs of people crossing the road. I got to San's apartment building, pressed the buzzer for her flat and waited. It felt like I was waiting forever -- her flat is not that big, and I knew she was in, so I didn't know why it was taking so long to let me in. Eventually she did.

It's been weeks or months, but I wasn't surprised to see that her front door was still the colour of the unpainted grey undercoat, from where the council or housing association or whoever was responsible had begun repainting it and stopped.

San and I were meant to meet up weeks ago, but she cancelled at the time because she was broke and being moody. She now leaves for Japan in exactly two weeks, and I knew this might be the last time I'd see her. We said we'd go to the club night at the Academy as we used to like to do sometimes, and especially as this would be the last time she'd go for a while. In the end, it wasn't even on. I wanted to go to a pirate night at a place called Rock, but San was appalled at the suggestion -- and fortunately for her it wasn't on until next week anyway.

After some discussions about the evening and the weekend itself, San expressed a desire to stay in with takeaway and a movie rather than go out. Considering I'd been in work all day, then gone straight to London pausing only to get changed -- and the train fare had already cost what I'd expect to spend on a night out -- I was happy with this, and had brought a bottle of wine.

The Chinese takeaway was a little disappointing -- I prefer my local one here, despite just being over the road to the flat in Kings Cross, Friday's sweet and sour chicken and noodles was over cooked. Since San shares her flat with her Mum, and her Mum was watching tv, San and I didn't end up watching a movie -- instead we just ate takeaway and listened to the radio in her bedroom. And if anyone is wondering, I was perfectly well behaved -- we both were. It was nice, just sitting in her room, and drinking wine, and not feeling the need for anything else or anything more.

There was a David Cronenberg movie on tv we wanted to watch on Friday night -- but after a bottle of wine between us and a long week, we barely got a few scenes into the film before we were falling asleep.

Saturday we watched movies and hung out, and San said she felt guilty we didn't do anything, but sometimes just hanging out and watching a movie does count as "doing something". It doesn't have to be cultural or exciting, sometimes it can just be good company. Although San claims never to have visited the Natural History museum in London, which both shocks and appals me. I love the place, and still feel the awe I felt as a child when I stand underneath the huge dinosaur skeletons. It's on the list of things to do.

I came home early Saturday evening, and invited all my friends round since my parents were out of town. We drank beer and listened to music, and periodically we would all stand quietly outside in the dark and the cold and stare up at the sky.

In the clear night sky, the moon was being slowly eclipsed by the earth's shadow.