I arrived in London on the first of August, on the trans-European train which I had boarded at the Gare du Nord. I remember it clearly, the smog in the sky, the cobbled streets, the idiotic headwear. Yet the fact that it was a Monday somehow managed to escape me on that particular day despite my usual awareness, therefore as my train came into Charing Cross I was greeted with the unwelcoming shoves of foolish-looking top hatted men apparently in a riot of some sort. Curious as to the purpose of their endeavour, I consulted a more relaxed man who was reclining on a bench with an immense broadsheet in his hand, who informed me that this was, in fact just a normal rush hour.
I was struck dumb by the hustle and bustle of the city life in this urban settlement. Horses and carts trundled along cobbled roads, with disregard of anyone who had the sad misfortune to be on the said roads at the time. Crowds of white men wearing shiny black jackets strode purposefully down each path, and I must confess that I felt quite out of place.
I had come from Paris, where I had worked as a journalist, and despite Paris having its busy moments, couldn't compare to the selfish rush of Englishmen striding self-centeredly towards their office jobs.
The skies were dull, grey and smoky, the occasional gyrocopter puffing out steam as it slowly advanced through the smog.
I wandered the winding roads and traversed past colourless buildings for quite a while before I chanced upon a cafe of some repute. There, whilst drinking some tasteless but overpriced coffee, as luck would have it, an acquaintance of mine barged through the door!
It was a man called Monsieur Maciej Martin, a friend of mine with whom I have known for many a year, our first meeting happening to be at an interview when I was less advanced in age. Although I wasn't overly familiar with each of his habits, we were close friends nonetheless.
In delight of some company in unfamiliar lands, I called out to him. He turned to face me in shock, and his face turned joyful and soon we were stuck in a spate of nostalgic conversation about better times.
When I say nostalgic, that is not to say that I was too advanced in the years, in fact I was at the peak of my life and was in my early thirties, Martin being of similar age. Our reminiscence was in fact if a time just over a decade ago, when I had just started my career.
He had a stubbly chin and a thick neck, however his muscles were still substantial, if not hidden by his winter coat.
A long time had passed since our last meeting; our paths had last crossed at an expat in Rochelle, more than two years previously. We caught up to each other in good humour over cups of bad coffee.
"So, my friend", he said to me, "What brings you to this dank and dirty city?"
I carefully avoided the question with a series of cleverly placed comments and tactical topic changes. My reason for being here was not one to be heard by one prone to gossip such as Martin, perhaps due to the shamelessness of the issue in general.
I had come from a rather prestigious and reputable French broadsheet, in a rather high position. Anyone privy to such knowledge would without a doubt wonder why I had left it all to come to the unfamiliar streets of London.
The topic of the reasoning behind my arrival in the dust, I had the resolve to repose the same query back in his direction. He leaned in and replied, mysteriously and full of drama, "I found a job."
I leaned away with mock aghast, my hand reaching to cover my mouth. "You don't say?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He didn't take my respond in the bests of manners and made to get up. I pulled him back down, and asked him seriously.
His reply would be too long to note down in this extract, as he tended to waffle and perhaps half of his story had been spent on a tangent, but the general story was that it was another fools errand by the government.
The French government, fearing all other empires in a typically French manner, had sent their man who was supposedly non-government affiliated, to do some investigation in the headquarters of the eve expanding British Empire.
I snorted at the ridiculousness of their decision. I admit that the paranoia of the other powers was not entirely unfounded, yet I found that Clemenceau's decision was indeed flawed in many ways, the most apparent being their choice of agent to send to London.
I didn't doubt his words for a second of course, as I knew that given Martin's background this was in fact highly likely, yet I found myself pondering whether sending this middle aged artefact of the past was actually a good idea.
Our meeting ended with the cups of our now cold beverages. Just before we were to depart, a sudden thought returned to my mind and I was reminded as to the reason that I had encountered this man in this first place.
"My friend," I started, looking at him. "Would you be perhaps privy to the location of any nearby lodging to rent? Nothing too expensive of course."
Martin scratched his messy black stubble before suddenly remarking that in the most remarkable of coincidences he had happened across one suitable place just earlier that same day. An apartment not too far away in perhaps the most convenient of locations.
I was suspicious, not due to Martin himself but merely due to the sheer amount of luck which had come across me that day. Unless the Goddess of Luck had finally favoured me after her years of neglect, which I highly doubted to be the case, a turn of bad fortune was surely due by way.
The man frowned for a second on noticing my look, before assuring me that there was in fact no catch to this situation, if you exclude the fact that I would be sharing the room with a rather ambitious young businessman who wasn't fond of working in the flat and therefore used it only as a place to sleep at night.
I replied, courteously but still unconvinced, that such a catch wasn't a catch at all, and that I would be pleased to accompany him to this abode as soon as possible, which he told me was within the next few days, as he had to attend to urgent business regarding his task elsewhere.
At the time I was unaware that this meeting had heralded a companionship that I would never regret forming, that would last for years until our fateful departure in this damned city in the future.