On a right mission

11.05am. Today I'm going on a London mission. Because I can. Life is only as exciting as you make it and when you live in one of the most exciting cities in the world, excitement should be gushing out of every orifice. Otherwise you might as well live somewhere else, somewhere cheaper with chippys serving chips and gravy.

My tentative itinary for the day ahead incorporates a museum or two, the free ones obviously, winter coat shopping, Korean burritos, a matinee screening of Sicario, a free Waitrose coffee, making good use of Transport for London's much welcome daily capping, and lots of walking in between. And the odd overpriced pint for good measure. Of course the overpriced pints may rob me of any ambition. I'm well down with that.

12.52pm The first stop on my journey was the V&A Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green. An ode to objects of adolescent stimulus, it was unsurprisingly crammed full of kids' toys and games, ranging from the home made to the cynically and exploitatively expensive. It was also crammed full of screaming and excitable kids. I lasted 20 minutes.

A wander down the length of Bethnal Green Road quite literally provides a London history lesson. At the eastern end there are still remnants of its multicultural modern past, E Pellicci caff and jellied eels. As you head west, witness gentrification take over, culminating in the edifice that is Brick Lane. The transformation divides opinion, as the Cereal Killer cafe knows only full well. Regardless if you're nay or yay, it's at least resulted in some fine street art.

I took in another symbol of the up-trending of East London in the shape of Boxpark. A 2 storey retail and food emporium housed in disused shipping containers. Yes really. Came across this little number in the sale for a measly £13.

My wardrobe wasn't really crying out for another printed sweat in grey melange (wearing one today even) but an iconic line from an iconic alpha male is just too good to resist.

2pm Planned to visit the Sir John Soane museum but there was a sizeable queue so fuck that.

2.25pm The Korean Burrito didn't materialise so opted for a more authentic offering instead. Beef bibimbap from Naru in Bloomsbury. Tried ordering a side of kimchi but it only came in share size which is a bit too much of a good thing, even for me.

3.15pm Digesting the somewhat underwhelming bibimbap with a Negroni in Bar Termini, Soho. Correction, the food was ok but their approach to customer service was a bit too authentic. En route to Soho I did a quick pit stop in Primark and purchased a cheapo mustard jumper for a tenner.

This time my wardrobe was indeed lacking. Not entirely sure why as mustard in colour as well as flavour is a firm favourite. I was trawling the net for mustard apparel earlier in the week and needless to say online items would have dented my wallet a tad deeper. Primark as always to the rescue.

5.10pm Beer o'clock. Rather stupidly strolled onto Regent Street in search of a coat. On a Saturday afternoon Regent St's akin to a mild form of rendition. Luckily I at least identified a coat to buy. I tend to get palpitations when faced with parting with large chunks of cash in one swift move so I hesitated and came away empty handed. A friend once told me that alcohol acts as a beta blocker so chances are I'll make a beer infused purchase later on. And then feel like a twat on the tube, brandishing a bulky shopping bag. Maybe I'll just buy it online. Noone likes a tube twat

5.25pm Apparently it's World Zombie day today. Who'd have known?? That's a zombiefied Ella from Frozen. Coming soon to a kids party near you.

6.40pm A girl on the tube has the best tote bag, apart from the Homogenic one from Bangkok that J has worn out. It said 'I went to the museum and got an erection'. Genius

7pm. Home and knackered, having opted for coat-less non-twat travel. Mission partly achieved.

And now for something completely different

The Labour party members, and £3 leadership voters and right wing infiltrators, have spoken and a resounding 59% backed Jeremy Corbyn. Pretty much universally derided by the mainstream media, prominent Labour figures and war criminals alike, Corbyn's victory leaves the party at a hugely important crossroads. Corbyn's preferred path will undoubtedly be to the left, a vast proportion of Labour MPs, aka closet Tories, want to turn right. As if on cue, a handful of shadow cabinet ministers resigned instantaneously, quoting fundamental political differences. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but was Labour not always meant to be a socialist party, representing the rights of workers and the general public whose social mobility is deliberately severely restricted? So maybe those who would rather resign than work alongside an elected socialist leader need to do a spot of self reflection. Which party did you think you signed up to in the first place? And whilst much attention was given to the possibility of inappropriate people signing up to vote in the leadership contest, perhaps the party need to vet their own politicians a bit more closely. Are you socialist? Yes. Oh good, welcome sir/madam. What about you, are you socialist? No. Well fuck off then.

Corbyn is obviously not the messiah (more likely a very naughty boy who fraternises with the IRA), he faces a massive uphill battle to unite the fundamentally different political ideologies of Labour MPs and members, he may lack the style and charisma of the typical party leader, and ultimately he may turn Labour into the new Monster Raving Loony party. What he can do, and surely will do, is to offer a completely different vision of the UK in the 2010s, one built on solidarity, unity, fairness and equality. Opinions aren't going to change overnight but I firmly believe that in the long term people can be convinced to expand the number they look out for from 1 to at least 2 or 3.

Throughout the campaign, the most common complaint people had with Corbyn was that he will make Labour unelectable. Unless anyone failed to notice, they already have been for the past two elections, failing to provide a compelling argument for old-New and new-New Labour as a suitable alternative to the grim Tory reapers. I for one prefer the opposition to properly oppose the existing government by proposing something completely different, not just right wing propaganda with a conscience. And Corbyn has shown already that Labour under his leadership will be an entirely different beast. Judging by the surge in Labour memberships since Saturday, his plain talking, no-nonsense, un-Westminster like approach has struck a chord beyond the hardcore Labour faithful. Interesting times ahead indeed. And with a bonafide Arsenal fan at the helm, what can possibly go wrong??

Speaking of something completely different, life in London is sure as hell a world away from my previous habitat in God's Own Country. As anticipated the temptation to part with money has proven rather overwhelming. I've now added Zara to the list of establishments that I struggle to walk past without having a sneaky peak in. So spontaneous purchase #1:

£19.99 parted with on a Sunday afternoon stroll round Covent Garden. And spontaneous purchase #2:

£30 donated to Topman's coffers on a Saturday afternoon stroll round Hyde Park. Rather worryingly both items were purchased at full price, zero discount, zilch reductions. Best get back to my thrifty ways asap or a London shaped irreparable hole will appear in my bank account. Hopefully though the abandonment of spending principles is temporary, part of the migration process. Novelty factor and all that. Unlike Corbyn who's introduction to life at the top is likely to be bumpy as, I've otherwise found the transition fairly easy to deal with thus far. Apart from the night buses. My nemesis they are. For no fault of my own, honestly. I've had back to back disastrous Saturday night bus experiences, involving falling asleep, late night pub pit stops, getting generally lost, a whole lotta walking, and costly taxi rides. Luckily I'm in Sheffield this coming Saturday so no risk of a back to back to back night bus palaver. Transport for London breathes a sigh of relief.

Salmon run

I'm moving to London. Life as I know it won't be the same, at least not for the next 12 months. Having waxed lyrically about my love of all things Sheffield only a few months back, upping sticks and departing to the Big Smoke might be seen as one big fat contradiction. Some might say treacherous. Some already have. The political elite would be proud. Say one thing and mean something completely different, cause a massive fuss in one direction as a smokescreen for murky behaviour in another, look after number 1 above all. Guilty as accused.

This was clearly not in the script. For 17 years I've lived and prospered in Sheffield, almost, but not quite, half a lifetime. Being a quintessential northerner in spirit, a quintessential northern city was always going to be an easy fit and I've had very little inclination to relocate over the years, even during periods of unemployment and unsatisfactory employment. July 2015 however and somehow the stars managed to align themselves to provide a compelling argument for sampling a slice of London life. I'll be starting a 12 month secondment at our head office in September, and in my head I'm treating it as a well paid gap year. A temporary departure from normality. A chance to play in the biggest and most exciting playground in the world. A tiny fish in a huge pond. I'm like a salmon on a run to do a spot of spawning before heading back to more familiar shores to settle.

Things were very different when I first landed in Sheffield in August 1998 to take up residence at Hallam University's student halls. Tony Blair and his babes were in their pomp, Sheffield Wednesday played in the Premier League, no one was particularly phobic about Islam, record shops were aplenty, cameras had film in them, Madonna's artistic integrity was still intact, a tweet was just a sound birds make, a tablet a slab used for inscriptions, a selfie stick might've referred to something altogether more private and the concept of sexting, cankles, jeggings and chillax hadn't yet been portmanteau'd. Bluetooth, blu-ray, USB, micro-SIM, say what??

First impressions weren't great. Stepping out of the train station we were greeted by run down Hallam buildings to the front, Park Hill flats to the rear. Sophisticated urban landscapes all round. Sheffield had seemingly not moved at all since the 1960s.

Luckily this year's hoards of freshers can enjoy a vastly improved vista, although Park Hill flats will outlive us all. The past decades have seen huge redevelopment of the city centre and adjoining areas, mostly but not wholly for the better. Personally I would've kept the Yorkshire Grey rather than replace it with a funny looking multi storey car park. And I'm still most upset that I missed out on the mythical Hole in the road. Nevertheless, whatever the relative merits of modernisation, the things that makes Sheffield great remains.

Sheffield end edging closer, the countdown to London has officially begun. I eventually secured an optimal flat share in Globe Town, within touching distance of hipster Mecca, and I'll be living in hope that the mere proximity will stimulate my facial hair follicles to multiply like an aggressive virus. It's London, miracles do happen. I may well find myself on a collision course with London itself. Pretentious, expensive, ostentatious, obtrusive, these are a few of my non-favourite things. I am however planning to embrace the whole experience with open arms, and if all else fails I've located a chippy in Holborn that does chips and gravy. Nothing else matters.

Of course new beginnings call for new looks. I've ruthlessly discarded droves of clothing and footwear to create space and ease the removal load, round 2 to follow, but at the same time I've been busy purchasing. Yin and yang and all that.

 Purple skinny trousers from Topman, £9.60 in the sale. Great colour but may need to reserve these for standing up gatherings only to avoid groin splitting.

Teal tuxedo jacket (£21.60) and geometric patterned pocket square (£1.60) from Topman, again in the sale. White shirt and black jeans to complete the outfit, bob's your uncle.

Grey suede shoes with beige and blue strip along the top of the sole, £16 from Topman. Likely accompaniment to above sartorial styling.

Long sleeved light blue shirt and short sleeved lilac shirt, £4.60 in the Topman sale. Cheaper than Primark. Say no more.

12 months a Londoner beckons, time will tell if the schtick sticks or if Sheffield will out. I suspect the lure of cheap beer, steep hills and dee-dahs will prevail. And chips and gravy obviously. Chuck in some scraps and I'm sold.