"Time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life"

Panic strikes as I realize that there is no way I should be able to wake myself up. Its impossible, I only gave myself 2 hours to sleep, there’s no way I’ve slept less than that on my own volition. I tap a key on my laptop to see what time it is, only to discover that its battery is dead. Fuck! The laptop is dead, hence the alarm I set on the laptop never went off. I run to the kitchen to find the time on the oven, its noon. Double fuck!! Well lets see, flight is at 4.30, wanna arrive about 90 min beforehand so that’s 3pm, takes about an hour on the Piccadilly line so get there at 2pm, need to get to Earls Court by taking 2 tube lines or else risk getting lost on the bus, so lets say I gotta be showered, packed, and cleaned up this place in about 90 min….triple fuck…

Normally I don’t use my laptop as an alarm clock, I use my phone. Unfortunately it died about 2 hours after I landed at Heathrow. Luckily it still had enough juice to tell Tatevik that the Starbucks where we agreed to meet is closed, and that she can find me at a pub just down the road. She shows up late but with a healthy buzz and helps me take my bags to my cousin’s flat where we drop em off. Tatevik’s friends are waiting for us at a bar in Leicester Square which instantly sets off alarm bells in my head. Nine times in ten, any place at Leicester Square is an overpriced tourist trap with a bad crowd and bad music. Trips to Zoo bar convinced me of least that much. Even so friends are friends and I don’t wanna be in between her and them, so I quickly shed the suit I’ve been in all day and we head down. The place is predictably godawful, the first warning is the bouncer who walks us straight to the door and tells the price to the girl at the desk (a tactic taken straight from zoo bar, speeds up the momentum so people who are just going to check it out feel pressured to decide yes/no and end up going in). The ceiling is low and the lighting is crap. The venue is small and lacks a proper sound system, some hi powered portable speakers are set up in corners and are cranked way too loud. The place is dense and the floors are so covered with spilled drinks they’ve become sticky. I wish I could remember the name of the place so that I could warn others, but its been forgotten. Frost, or frozen, or ice, or blizzard, or chilled, or something like that.

It’s a lazy weekend in the purest sense, most of the day spent sipping coffee, eating, and sleeping. Most of the night spent drinking and dancing (well I dunno if anything at the Islington Academy qualifies as dancing). The lack of a GSM was a constant annoyance, especially since I had hoped to catch-up with old London friends (sorry!). Even so I got to enjoy every hour I had with Tatevik before her flight back to Tallinn.

Tatevik’s flight was due to leave at 6.50 am on Sunday, from Stansted. It was an ungodly time, since Stansted is 75-90 minutes away. Stansted airport is also so spread out that even getting to your gate can take another 30 min. London airports seem always on high alert, and terror suspects were arrested only on Thursday. So Tatevik aims for being at the airport 2 hours before checkin. Around 4.50am. Assuming it takes all 90 minutes, that means leaving Victoria at 3.20 am. Assuming it takes about 30 min to get to Victoria on a night bus, leave the house at 2.50 am. Its such an early hour there isn’t any point to sleeping and so we stay up. Everything goes as planned until at Victoria station we discover that the terravision buses have decided to change their pickup point. The first two buses we could have made leave from the other side of the terminal, and the 3rd is sold out, and the 4th apparently as well. Thinking we are basically screwed I sprint to the National Express terminal and find a Stansted bus leaving in 3 min, I sprint back and haul up Tatevik’s heavy duffle and sprint back. I’m breathing like a walrus when we finally make it to the bus, and promptly drop on Tatevik’s knee and fall asleep, leaving a little drool spot on her jeans….

I arrive back at the flat at 8am and decide to give myself a 2 hour nap which should have left me enough time to have a coffee and muffin, leisurely clean and pack. Of course things didn’t quite turn out that way…