Andrew's Stories

Along with my three travelling companions, I boarded a train to London. Our destination was Lancaster Gate, where we found a small hotel that overlooked Hyde Park and the Serpentine. It was the middle of winter, and the weather was a stark contrast to what we had left behind in Australia—cold, rainy, and shrouded in fog. Despite this, our spirits were high, buoyed by the promise of new experiences.

The first morning in London was a sensory overload. As we stepped out into the thick fog, I was immediately struck by the sights and sounds of this vibrant city. Mini-skirts, knee-high boots, long coats, and bowler hats mingled on the streets, while umbrellas bobbed up and down as people hurried along. Black cabs darted through the traffic, and red double-decker buses lumbered by, adding splashes of colour to the grey day. It felt like we had stepped into another world. The air buzzed with the energy of a city on the brink of cultural revolution. Mary Quant’s bold fashion statements were everywhere, and the infectious beat of The Beatles was the soundtrack to our adventures. We danced the Twist at every opportunity, caught up in the fervour of the new dance craze that had taken the world by storm.

The city was also alive with scandal and intrigue. The Profumo affair was the talk of the town, and names like Christine Keeler were on everyone’s lips. London was a place where anything seemed possible, and we were eager to soak it all in. Every moment was filled with discovery. From the foggy mornings in Hyde Park to the bustling evenings in Soho, London offered a feast for the senses. Though the winter chill bit through our coats, the excitement of being in this dynamic city kept us warm. It was the beginning of an adventure that would shape the rest of our lives, and I knew that these first impressions of London would stay with me forever.

After a few days we found a flat at Hillcrest Court, Shoot-Up Hill, on the corner of the A5 and Mill Lane, NW6, finally a place we could call home.