I was already starting to regret the wine from last night when I woke up, not so much because of a hangover, but just sheer dehydration. Today was the comic strip festival, so I had to go and collect mum and nan so we could go and meet Nixon and Luca down the Royal Park to explore the tents. The distance between the hotel and the park wasn’t too far, but I was right to arrive early to help my nan to make the journey; as much of it was up hill and up vast flights of stairs. It is curious how we only really notice how inaccessible somewhere is when you are forced to live life through another’s shoes; it has made me very conscious on how lucky we are in London in this respect. Don’t get me wrong, London is far from perfect in terms of disabled access, but some steps have been made (excuse the pun) to help those less able to get around.
When we get there, mum and nan quickly realise that the festival is effectively a nerd party consisting of avid comic readers and collectors; some even going as far as to dress up, which I wasn’t expecting. I imagined it would be fairly big, but I didn’t expect cosplays to be done of these comic book characters. Mum and nan sat down by a fountain and waited it out while we quickly perused the tents. Guillermo and his husband to be, Rob met us down there. I was relieved to find that Rob was English (even though I probably shouldn’t have, considering the purpose of being here), however I was more shocked to find out that even though he lived in Wales now, he was in fact born in my home town of Hitchin, some tiny little town that no-one has really heard of. Ok so the Queen Mother was born there and James Bay is from there, but that’s all we’ve got to claim to fame.
From here, the festival spread to Bozar, like Nixon had said. It was in here that I really wished my French was better, as I got stuck in a queue for an hour because some girl would not stop talking to the illustrator of which the rest of us were waiting to get an autograph and an illustration in our newly bought books; to put into perspective, most people were done in 10 minutes and when I arrived, I was only two away from the front, yet it still took me an hour. To say I was annoyed was an understatement, as mum and nan were waiting in the Bozar café to go for a wander, and as these people didn’t speak a word of English (much to my surprise as so far everyone did), I couldn’t communicate my frustration. Eventually I got out and retrieved my mum and nan, who had just received a restaurant recommendation from Nixon, so my task was to take them there, before going back to Nixon’s for the joint birthday party of Kiki and Arnd.
Nixon has certainly kept me busy this first week, but I have to say that it is a fantastic way to break the ice with a lot of people. We have all come to the agreement that for this first week it is probably better for me to speak in English, as I am still finding my way around, but from next week, all these lovely people I am meeting are going to switch and start forcing me to speak French…begrudgingly, I consent and in reality I am thankful. At the party, I finally get to meet Kiki and his husband Andres, who are super cute and literally define the hashtag relationship goals trend. Copious drinks are handed out, as well as crudités and sauces, followed by a gigantic spread of delicious home-made Italian pizzas and salads. As I am English, there is this certain expectation that we hold our alcohol very well and can drink for…well…England, however I had to go to bed early as I was a little too sozzled to carry on without making a fool of myself (at least I do know that limit)…
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