My curiosity has been roused enough to make me fight my way through late afternoon traffic on the packed, stuffy underground.
Sweat threatens to trickle down my face, and the wires in my b*a are digging into my ribs, but I practically leap onto the platform from the train, the minute the doors open.
I scurry through the throng of disgruntled commuters, opting to ignore their dirty looks as I push though them.
Finally I'm learning to negotiate crowds like a native.
I'm adapting to my surroundings.
When I reach 'Raucous Records' I am breathless from having tore down the high street like a Tasmanian Devil.
But what I see, takes my breath away for a completely different reason.
The place is absolutely abuzz with punters, they're filing out onto the street, clutching little carrier ba
