Oxford Street turned into a huge meat packing district. If you wanted to move, it meant weaving in and out of human traffic and making like sardines in the shops. I’ve been into town on Sundays many times but with Christmas drawing closer and closer, people were out in their droves with their fistful of sterlings. I had met up with the King’s crew and we decided to hit Camden. I hadn’t been there for a few years (the last time must have been when I went to see Feeder at the Barfly) and it seemed that everyone else was thinking a trip to Camden should be on the agenda too, because it was packed solidly, moreso than Oxford Street. I always remembered Camden to be a melting pot of alternative fashion and lifestyles and I found this to hold true even after a couple of years after my last visit. The only thing I didn’t see that I was expecting were street entertainers like fire-eaters and jugglers, but still, the atmosphere had a carnival vibe to it. From doing the rounds of the marketplace, I found that the food stalls were plentiful too. There were food stalls from around the world and would cater for your tastes whether your dish is yakitori, dim sum, goat curry, crepes or fajitas. Unfortunately to the grumblings of my stomach, all this convenience came at a time when I craved blackened/bourbon Cajun chicken, which was nowhere to be found. It seemed that all the nations were being merry to the flavour of mulled wine too, which appeared to be on offer everywhere around Camden Lock. It was quite unbelievable that the day passed by so quickly, but this was a sign of good times passed. The highlight of the day was definitely persuading Sanje to straddle a Police motorbike and pose for a snap after seeing a little girl doing the same. We couldn’t stop laughing, because this made the officers quite nervous.

Through the University grapevine you hear improbable shaggy dog stories about exam questions involving suicide with pencils, students training professors, surprise tests and taking exams under the influence, all of which allegedly happened to a friend of a friend of that drunken German guy in your class. But these are now widely known as urban myths (though taking exams under the influence of recreational drugs happens probably more often than is documented. I actually knew someone who did this and he did not get an A, kids). There are also stories of teachers and professors having sexual relations with their students too, which also sounds like a pack of lies sprung from a professor’s wet dream, but oh man, these are true. Seriously! I’ve always believed there was a truth in students sleeping with professors to get that all important grade A, just for the reason that the University lifestyle is that filled with sexual innuendoes in student union bars, debauchery in the libraries and rambunctious desperation in finals week, and don’t make the mistake of thinking these are all limited to the student body. Since there’s a lot of impetuosity in getting good grades and erm, plain getting some, it would not take a first class honours psychology student to postulate that at times good grades are determined in between the sheets.

Sanje was telling me of his own brushes with the academic body (some of which occurred literally) and how relaxed teacher-student relations are in certain public schools. He recounted stories of teachers making sweet music on pianos and a teacher who once streaked through a party to make a point (I can’t think what that could be)! I’ve always had my suspicions about certain charming teachers in University who would imbue the minds of their students then ask them out to dinner and who knows what after that? Probably coffee, and we all know what that leads to (in this case, “grade transactions”). There is an element of truth to those scenes in films where the sexual tension becomes sliceable with a cold blunt spoon whilst a hot and flustered young broad, in her seductively husky drawl asks the tall, dark and handsome man in uniform up to her apartment for a cup of coffee. Coffee leads to many things: sleepless nights, surreal art, good pieces of programming code, and of course, sex. You did wonder why there’s a Starbucks on every street corner, didn’t you?

[Visuals gallery]