Hamilton Hall (Liverpool Street)

Sonic The Hedgehog

Phew, what a day! The mother of all days. My head is spinning; literally!

Well no, not literally obviously, that would be stupid (dunno why I said that); whenever I’m in a spin, it’s full body or nothing baby. But yeah, you get the point; I’ve had a pig for sure.

It’s not easy working as a leaf-picker-upper in London at the best of times; running the gauntlet of stilettos and umbrellas etc, but when things don’t go your way, its an absolute bitch!

*Geez, I’m dying for a pint!*

It all started off on the Tubes, didn’t it! Doesn’t it always.

I was in Liverpool Street, scooting around, whirling about, picking up financial-worker crap and detritus, when the text arrived from Dusty at Leaf-Away HQ

Sycamore leaf infestation on a trustafarian mews in Fulham; make your way there immediately for the clean-up.

I called Dusty to clarify, and he told me that some bird called Tabatha was having a dinner party; she didn’t want any rogue leaves embarrassing her in front of her soon-to-be friends. Top priority then.

So I rolled on down towards the tube to sort out the mess, and that’s when it all kicked off; 

Two hours,…two bleedin' hours I was Fallingdown that 'up' escalator at Liverpool Street station! 2 hours for God's sake! - In my haste, I’d rolled onto the wrong one (escalator that is) and, unable to stop spinning, continued downwards while the stairs moved up! 

Two flaming, dizzying hours!

Typical ain’t it; if it were rush hour, I’d have been fine. Some prat woulda booted me up or down, (ironically sorting me out),..but this was 11am and the station was deserted. “Stand on the right, walk on the left” whatever!! Naff all use to me; I was rolling down dead centre, no other punters in sight!

When I finally made it to the bottom, the mobile was going mental - frantic voicemails from Tabatha and Piers. I was covered in chewing gum, and seriously under the cosh.

So it was straight on to the Circle Line, with a sheen of hedgehog-sweat forming on my brow. Checking my reflection in the window, I realised that somehow I’d managed to roll onto (spike) one of those free London newspapers. The thing was flailing behind me like some kind of ludicrous organic cape. Still,..least you’re moving, I thought to myself, who cares what you look like, nothing can go wrong now.

Right! 

The tube passed straight through Moorgate station without even braking pace, the same at Barbican and, well Farringdon station was just a blur. The train wasn’t stopping, "stuck accelerator" the driver announced. It was like a scene straight outa that movie with Kevin Reeves,..Matrix or Matrix 2 I think it was,.one of them.

,..the train wouldn’t stop, it was running wild, a wild feral train.

AnyWho,..after spinning five or six laps of the Circle Line I’d given up keeping track,.. and given up on making the job. When we finally stopped moving we were back at Liverpool Street again,..and it was 3pm.

Christ I fancy a pint, I thought; Christ I’ll have a pint, I knew. So on I headed on up t’wards Hamilton Hall outside the station, I was gasping,..and had a touch of the old prickly heat on my neck.

It’s a cavernous All-Weather Spoons juicer this one; one where you get all sorts. And it’s conveniently outside the station which, on this particular day, suits me right down to the ground. Bankers, bakers, silly-money-makers. Makes no difference here, or to me - After all, aren’t we all just the same when we’ve our snouts in the trough and (later on) our trotters in the air? Boozing is a great leveller.

Cash!! I’ve no cash, I realised before entering. All my cash must have spun on outa my pockets at some point today - I shot over the road to NatWest.

The queue for the cash-point outside was murderous, so I bust a move into the revolving doors to use one of the ones inside. No time to spare here.

Course! I took it (the door) too fast, didn’t I! Got caught in some kinda perpetual motion, space-time continueum thing-a-majig,.. to the extent that, by the time I got outa the spinning door, it was dark outside and the bank was shut!

Dammit, I needed the pint badly at this point. Screw it, I’ll put em on my card, I thought as a staggered back over Bishopsgate to the pub.

,…………….One overly-ambitious roll later, here I am, stuck upside down on the entrance mat! Immobile, trapped in Hamilton's wipe-your-feet astroturf. Upside down too, so I can see the bar but can't get there. I’m properly pinned-in.

The humiliation is unbearable.

Most people aren’t noticing me, those that have, are either laughing or are too tanked up to help me,..my cries for help go unheeded, I’m screwed. Being able to see the booze (albeit inverted) and unable to get at it…the stuff of nightmares.

I just need someone to turn me over, to pop me back up, to right me, so that I can spin on over to the bar and get in a few “much needed”!

*shouting* “Oi mate, do us a favour, turn us around will ya! I’m dying over here! JUST TURN ME AROUND PLEASE!”

*Some giggling neaderthall strolls over; egged on by his mates, he bends down and turns Sonic around; he is still on his back, but now faces the toilets*

“Swivel mate!” *he whispers, as he licks a small prick of blood on his finger whilst simultaneously pressing Sonic harder into the mat*

,…………..*Staring at the upside-down toilets*,… “Quelle bummer!”

Sonic The Hedgehogs rating for Hamilton Hall – 1 / 10

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