How to Say Goodbye to London
It’s been a long year, whatever year it’s been. If you’re a first year, it’s safe to say you’ve only just started to get a hang on what the heck is going on in this city. If you’re a second year, the mixture of partying and increased workload means your sleep-deprived state has only just begun to improve. And if you’re a third year, you’ve only just woken up from the inevitable dissertation-induced coma. And as we all find our feet and begin to enjoy summer, the phone rings. Our families back home want us back. And you can’t blame them, can you?
As we somehow pack the ridiculous quantity of stuff we somehow got here in September into a car, coach, train or plane, we are left with one job left to do… say goodbye to this beautiful city. “But HOW?”, I hear you ask. “It’s just too beautiful. I’m in LOVE”, you say. And admittedly, as I look out the window at the blue London skies, I’m not sure I know the answer myself.
There’s only one answer and it’s time to OVERDO everything you have loved, liked and had a vaguely positive feeling towards in London. My solution is to give yourself London-fever, London overload and a giant London hangover that’ll leave you swearing that you won’t even be going NEAR London for a very long time.
That’ll get you through the summer.
With that said, it’s time to get up and go to your favourite London bar. Drink your favourite cocktail and order a double serving of your favourite side order. Hug your favourite bartender (you know, the one that’s made you decide that this place IS your favourite bar) until you’re suitably embarrassed and absolutely comfortable with not returning for a good couple of months.
Once you’ve done that, it’s time to head to your favourite London club dressed in a Gerry Halliwell Union Jack dress and drink your favourite London dry gin (if you don’t drink, elderflower cordial will have the same effect). From there, you’ll listen to your favourite British tracks that are probably produced in London and revel in the divine social awkwardness of British people in clubs. If this isn’t the best way to get sick of London nightlife, what is?
And the next day, with your painful London fuelled hangover, it is town to go straight to St. James park to snooze of the hangover as your relax beneath your union jack parasol in your rather convincing Queen’s Guard costume and gaze upon Buckingham Palace. From there, you were eat the largest serving of fish and chips and wash it down with authentic British ales until the feeling of the night before creeps back (or again, remember the elderflower cordial).
And just as you’re feeling annoyed by the overkill of city you love, it’s time to leave. Abruptly and fiercely. That’s your moment. Because trust me, it won’t be easy to find it again.