Further Adventures in London With Dune

After the unscheduled breaks in programming here at Arm The Homeless, I would like to now return to Further Adventures in London With Dune, otherwise known as FALD. I should really rethink that title to make an amusing acronym.

My previous accounts have had myself and Dune taking in the famous sights of my home town, and the slightly less famous sights of Westminster (once I worked out how to find them). The next day was about as different again, when we headed into London with Jon to see the Gutter Twins play Koko, in Camden.

If anyone is scratching their heads and wondering who the Gutter Twins are, I can try and briefly summarise. Greg Dulli, former frontman of Afghan Whigs, collaborated with various musicians with his more recent band Twilight Singers. One such musician is the gravel-voiced Mark Lanegan, famous for fronting Screaming Trees and collaborating with Queens of the Stone Age. In between touring again with Afghan Whigs and Twilight Singers, Greg Dulli is collaborating again with Mark Lanegan on a side project -- this is the Gutter Twins.

Whenever we can, if we're going to a gig in London we like to spend the whole day up there and so that was what Jon and I did with Dune. The idea to begin with had been to check out what the state of Camden Lock Market was after the recent fire, perhaps indulge in one of Dune's self-guided walks, but first of all to visit a pub I have newly adopted as my favourite in Camden. Outside it was cold and it was raining -- inside it was warm and there was alcohol. So we didn't actually leave the pub until it was time to go to the gig.

Before they met, Jon had been slightly concerned about meeting Dune. He knew that I had nothing but good things to say about her, but was naturally concerned that there might be awkward silences or that if I left them alone together they would have nothing to say. Quite the opposite was true, Jon and Dune got along like a house on fire -- since they're both interesting, intelligent and fun people this wasn't really a surprise, but I know Jon was relieved. I didn't need to be relieved, as I'd never been concerned -- I knew they were both easy to get along with, and I obviously have great taste in friends.

The gig itself was good, but to my mind not great -- what was missing for me was knowing their songs, and a crowd that also already knew and loved their work. There wasn't quite the same chemistry.

On Friday, Dune and I splashed out again on travelcards (I might live close to London, but the travel into the city isn't cheap) with a view to spending the day at the British Museum, but first meeting Dune's cousin for lunch. One would think that after our experiences with my sense of direction earlier in the week, I might have planned ahead a little better for Friday. That is, I'd been to the British Museum before, and knew that it was sign posted from Holborn tube, but it didn't actually occur to me to check these things.

I have very little defence, other than that I presumed it would be obvious and it doesn't matter so much when you're doing these things and getting lost on your own.

We found our way to Holborn without incident, and sure enough there were sign posts outside the station, pointing the way. Unfortunately, nothing is idiot-proof to a sufficiently-talented idiot, and when the signs stopped on route, I was no clearer as to where the museum was. I took a wild guess that going up "Museum Street" would be a good start, and although Dune was dubious, we tried it. It worked well for a short while, but soon we came to another street and still no museum. It was fortunate for me that Dune is very patient, and felt it was charming that it wouldn't occur to me to look up where to go ahead of time.

I asked directions from a passing stranger. He looked worried and told me in a heavy accent he couldn't speak English. I tried another, and got the same result. Who would have thought that when stopping people in the street in central London you could get a 100% success rate in finding people that didn't speak English?

Granted, I use that line on charity muggers. When asked "Can you spare a few moments for --?" I reply in clear and perfect English, "I'm very sorry, I don't speak English". If they persist, I smile apologetically and say "No, I'm sorry, I really can't understand you". It confuses them long enough for you to get away.

Back on the street in Holborn, I walked into a bag shop and asked the sales staff. They looked at me like I was something they had just trodden in, but if nothing else my PR and journalist experience has taught me how to fake confidence with strangers who don't like you -- if only for a very short period. It turns out the British Museum was right up the road opposite us. Which was still Museum Street.

So we found the Museum. And a short while later, Dune's delightful cousin Sally met us -- and you can tell these girls are related because they're both incredibly gorgeous and very smart. After an excited greeting between the girls, and a slightly shy one on my part, the three of us set off looking for a pub for lunch. We walked aimlessly for a short time, before Sally admitted she didn't actually know where we were going -- so we collectively started actually looking for a pub. And quickly found one. Lunch was good -- standard pub fare, but nourishing, and very generously paid for by Sally. It was also sadly quite short.

Dune and I found our way back to the British Museum and spent the rest of the day there quite happily. I think I am in no way exaggerating or biased when I say that the British Museum has to be one of the finest museums in the world, although not without controversy. We checked out the ancient Greeks and the ancient Egyptians, gatecrashed a guided tour -- the tour guide was really good and we were thoroughly enjoying it when he took a moment out to tell us that it was a paid for tour. Dune felt it was directed mostly at her, but I think I escaped notice only because I was stood next to a member of the tour group who actually looked like he was homeless and had aimlessly wandered into the museum in search of a cup of tea.

And so an afternoon was spent -- a word of advice to anyone wishing to see the British Museum. As with any great museums and galleries, one day is not enough. Or rather, one day is just right if you divide it over two -- do a morning one day and then the afternoon the next, and if you can plan what you want to see. Dune and I will undoubtedly be going back on a rainy day before too long, it's that level of greatness.