The London Summer ‘s Monday. All this on a Monday?

 

Not quite a, but a little bit,  manic Monday.

Something has happened.  I wake early and want to go to bed early. Oh dear Lord, I have turned into my parents! Hang on, there is a blog about this … to be written.

Summer in London is the best in the world.  When it does not rain, when the grey cloak is absent, and when I actually find myself waking to birdsong at around four thirty in the morning … and don’t mind. Wide awake … is this possible?  ‘Tis summer y’all and this one is making the most of it for sure. Dark thoughts of my personality in the winter are all too close but shun them this past Monday. It was a London Monday and it is summer, so it counts for the telling, for summer in London is life changing for this crazy person.

By seven I am at the bus stop.  London style, waiting for the 39 and timed to perfection, a la city mapper, which no sensible Londoner should be without. I love the bus ride, I meet the world.  So many stories and a gem of two, scary looking school girls plopped into the seats in front of me.  Grumpy me would have gone, holy shite, they still look hanging from Saturday night.  Hideous hair for starters, make-up plaster and attitudes to match. I am intrigued.

‘I’m so tired, and just found out I have a history project – well, I ain’t gonna do it. Just not happening.’

Friend: ‘F…k them.’

And I used to panic about my nails being too long at inspection. Hair tied up above the collar, the school brookies up to the midriff, freaking out about getting an A.

‘And they made us run around the hockey field. F … king random.’

Okay … hope life treats you well.

My ‘other job.’ A few times a week I am waitron at St. Clements. A love affair, tempered with mind stories of customers I will write about … love the arrival to fresh croissants and fresh coffee.  Good friends and ‘hello’ to the regulars.  The major triumph is remembering the coffee orders (call this brain gym) for not a single … I shall have a flat white.  It’s a flat with a little foam, dry, weak, extra hot with almond/soy/oat/coconut and my kingdom on a horse stuff. Sorted.  The regulars arrive, their dogs … ‘hello Godot, hello Toby, hello Rafferty and oh, hello lovely Lola! The most silent and well trained dogs and I remember my own … dogs that is … dogs that ran in the garden and barked at the postman. Here comes Poppy, hello Poppy!

This is my community and the time goes by in a whirl of Avocado (smashed), coffees and conversation and then my shift is done. Seven hours of running (another blog) but summer awaits.

The Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy of the Arts. 22 bus takes me right there with my oat milk cap ( learning the lingo) to witness a spectacular exhibition of art from all walks of life. An hour of indulging and inspiration right there on Piccadilly. Have I mentioned that rocking up in the city in my standard Converse not longer phases me? In my Silver Street, I am rocking the Converse (another blog she thinks) but wandering through art is a gift. I am lost in wanting to be able to try it one day.

I am  always and a forever Laduree child.  I have an expense account for Laduree. And so, it is fitting, post great art, to get my usual macarons. Which are your favourite? With the grass of Green Park calling, I acquired mine.  For grass was calling. It is six o’clock and the sun is high.  All are gathering on the  green – office workers, mothers, children, tourists … all are lured to the idea of just falling on grass, or hiring one of the typical deck chairs for an hour or so. Life on a Monday is now life on a Monday flopping on grass.  Most with wine, the cheese and crackers, friends and photo’s but me, with the Laduree.

It’s a long way from my own garden, from my swimming pool and drinks on the veranda, but the grass is welcoming.  The Converse come off, the toes, so white, wiggle at the thought of freedom.

The thing is, life changes for all of us, drastically, silently at this stage of our Silver Street.  Thoughts of how did this ever come about, how did we end up here, and all that, but for that hour, with freedom on the grass of Green Park, a day of work done, culture fix in hand, I found more than anything, that I was happy. On a Monday. Go figure, in summer, in London, I could do all this, earn, learn and breathe at the end of it. I was doing this alone, and that was the sad part, but I was empowered in that I was doing it. Little windows to people I would never meet again, knowing that others have pushed for something more and me, just soaking up the last of the Monday summer sun before taking the bus home.

I want to hang onto this, for I know the winter will come.  Thoughts of living in this Silver Street will return with all it’s trepidation, but for me, on a Monday, to experience all that … was it meant to be?  That is another blog I think. 

Let’s just say, Monday in Summer London for this Silver Streeter was a Monday of being in the most exciting place I can be right now.

The lesson: Take a Monday in your life and add the spice.

Images Royal Parks, Laduree, Royal Academy