The London soup and planning another wedding.

There are incredible highs in living in this city.  London is one of those indescribable places so I am not going to try but when you feel your heart jump and that giddy shudder of glee does happen, most of the time, I would not be anywhere else you beauty bride called Londinium.

And then there are the lows of living in the city. Winter being high up on the list.  Christmas I would spend in no other, but the post, ummm when does the flipping sun come out again blues, are felt more intensely by this sunbeam than others. Feel as if I am under water when I wake in the dark and submerge into it again before the clock strikes four pm. The army of black ants we are.  Walking to the corporate mines, and getting into the soup mix.

Just jumped out of the pot of soup.  The bus.  The one I ran for knowing it would be another twenty minutes of purgatory if I missed it.  Running with your dinner, black Russian coat, hefty bag and boots to rap on the closing door, eyes pleading for a break and if given, huffing to take my place standing with the soup mix on board.  Victoria Beckham may glide into a waiting car with her heels, but the rest of us plebs find space beneath armpits, fighting those shopper wheelie things, some strange specimens who shout and curse to the gods and iPods. The soup in the bus pot reeks of Subway, Maccadees and strong whiffs of curry. The Noodle mix of Russian, Slovakian, Polish, cockney, Italian and French confuddles the brain with memories of my beloved Volvo add to the aching of lungs and heart. How the f…k did I end up in this soup mix on this evening?  Keep thinking of that line ‘James Bond never had to put up with this shit.’ and ‘I’m too old for this’ comes to mind but I don’t go there, alighting intact and walking like a cadaver to the door of my apartment. Fish greet me. They have turned the colour of dull, just like this season.  As they say, it’s wine o’ clock somewhere, oh yes, it’s here!

But I am not totally depressed, the black dog is outside ignoring it’s owner to do the business in the cold.  I am summer minded in the wedding plans being made.  A wedding to plan!

Let it be dark outside, my heart is sunlight in romantic planning for joy.  This accredited Wedding Planner is with book, with timelines and pinterest passion.  Detail in Ribbon shops, floral designs, calligraphy and menu plans.  Everyday is a box of crayons for colouring beauty. Spent the afternoon searching for cake inspiration, theme hues and the personification of love visible.  As I sigh with satisfaction of a travel itinerary well executed, I adore the making of a day of love tangible.  

You see, we all need this in our lives.  Times the reality may be heavy as a winter coat, the day as long as loneliness, but we need to find the small things, the pretty ribbons of love and hope to thread through it.

And in case you are wondering … this Silver Streeter is a Jane of many things.  Travel Consultant, Wedding Planner, cafe apron wearer, landlord and mom. Like many the baby boomer, she has years of experience, torn through life, pain and joy, to multitask and manage her life – she is the CV confounder, the detail muddler, the putting in one box Houdini.  I am beginning to build a life that makes a living doing all the things she loves to do – it ain’t going to be the bonus boss or the trophy collector, but she is struggling and carrying on to create a life she wants to for herself.  To make her children proud, to make herself proud.

Running for the bus and falling into the soup mix is a needs must at the moment.  She learns from every face, every story in it and takes it home to say … I learnt something new today. She gives as any woman does, and she does the job to perfection (she hopes) as any woman would. 

Times getting  into the soup mix to rise above to the glory of a wedding dream and the colours of love are worth it all.

Images: cityam and pintrest.