I packed everything this morning, having made a List. This is something I'm growing more and more fond of as time goes on. The creation of a List makes things much more organised.
So, I set off through the wilds of East London, which before midday on a weekend is populated only by pensioners, runners, and people on Community Payback. I really wish I was kidding. I had considered throwing in one of my photos from the London riots that I took of my neighbourhood, but sadly, I don't have any to hand, so that gag is going to have to go to waste.
I didn't have long to wait at my local station, which was fortunate, as clouds of acrid, chemical laden smoke were drifting across the area as someone in the local allotments burnt something. The grim darkness of the far future is not hard to imagine given the sordid dystopia I'm currently stuck in.
I mean really, this is the look people chose to design into our local interchange. It looks like the set of some movie where they are constantly watching your every move and can arrest you and lock you up under the slightest suspicion.
Oh, wait.
Never mind.
That said, I like these sort of pictures as they do provide excellent references for realistic near future scenery. I do need to go out and spend some time photographing rotting brickwork and corroded pipes, but I needed to get a shuffle on to make my train, so now we will jump ahead to my next method of transport...
I didn't realise that Virgin Trains were linked to the Iron Warriors (go hazard stripes!)... I liked this shot of Euston in particular because of the train receding off into the bright light of above ground.
The journey was especially civilised as my post man had deigned to drop the latest White Dwarf off before I left the house, to the probably irritation of my darling wife back home who is probably wondering where her reading material has gone. Suffice to say I am blown away by the new Dark Elves, and there are several kits I want just to paint, and some that I'm going to be hunting down for the kit-bashing potential.
I emerged from the train to enter a freakish mirror world. It turns out, you see, that Birmingham New Street station has been completely remodeled. Just enough of it remains the same for the layout and some sections to be familiar, only for staircases to appear where there were none before, and walls where there were previously ways out. It's incredibly disconcerting and disorientating, but fortunately I managed to find my way out, first to find food, and then on to the hotel.
As you can see, I've turned my hotel in to a slick and professional media centre. Well, a media centre on a budget. This should allow me to get some posts up a little sooner after Games Day than last year. I'm not going to give a timescale, though - I've found if there is one thing I've learnt from amateur blogging, it's not to give people a date for your next post unless it's already written and locked in!
The hotel is a bit cheap and cheerful. Actually, scratch that, it's cheap. It looks like the sort of place hitmen come to lie low, but in reality, it's just a place for stag parties and low rent salesmen attending conferences. Too nice for hookers, too cheap for affairs. Its a sad, soulless place, but it will give me somewhere to sleep before and after the event, which is what I need, really.
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