A Delightful Day in London

To wander the streets of London
From Holborn through to Lincoln's Inn Fields
Paying homage to the ghost of Charlotte Charke
First female actor-manager
Who in the 18th century wandered these streets
Desperate for work upon the stage

Down the Strand past the Royal Courts of Justice and
Onto Fleet St, where,
Somewhere along this road
Mordecai, relative in time, was arrested
Caught creating counterfeit cash and
Eventually tried at the Old Bailey
And shipped to Australia
The Royal Bank with a waterfall of tropical
Pink, orange, and yellow flowers
Cascading down its cold walls
Impossibly narrow buildings squished between
"Newer" edifications
Stone monuments that seem fairy-tale like with their
Statuesque dragons and winged horses

Down to the Thames
The buildings that grace its banks
The very sites that in themselves are the 

Synecdoche of London
Tower Bridge, St Paul's, The "Shard" 

The latter, still under construction
The city is still being built
Still growing above its labryntine streets
Winding paths that open to secret courtyards, squares, gardens
And ever more winding paths

To walk from Blackfriars as the sun is still rising
To see the world
"Half-way in shadow
And half-way in light"
It really is, as Bert describes,
"Coo, what a sight!"

The city made more real
By the previous experience of it in books, film, television, and art
To be here in the flesh
Wandering the streets of London
Smelling the city
Watching the workers scurrying away
Women in sneakers and stockings
Men in suits and ties
The same brands on nearly every corner

Stone and glass walls built side by side 

It feels like I must be in an elaborate set

Some two thousand years in the making

The end. 

Don't Panic

Dear Me-Four-Years-Ago, 

You are about to go back to London for your second visit. It will be covered in snow. The tube will be in total disarray and it will take you four hours to travel from Heathrow to Islington. All the tourist attractions will close early. You will not make it inside St. Paul’s Cathedral despite your best efforts. Don’t worry about the admission to Westminster, it’s totally worth it. Don’t worry that you don’t visit the West End. You will discover that traveling solo is Where. It. Is. At. You will discover that walking through London is magical. You will feel like you belong in Europe no matter what your passport says. When Susan says goodbye to you at Paddington after a week of wandering, sight-seeing, and Londoning, you will cry. You will feel as if you are leaving too early. You make a promise to yourself that you will return, and that you will one day live overseas. 

Dear Me-Four-Years-Ago, you come back. You have a Spanish passport. And yes, you live overseas. You make it inside St Paul’s Cathedral. You climb to the roof and with the rooftops of London as your background, you kiss a wonderful boy who turns out to be even more wonderful than you already think he is. You go to drama school. You get an agent. You are an actor living in London. Truly. 

In fact, one night, nearly four years from now, you will walk from your place of work, a theatre in the West End, to Embankment. You won’t even need a map. And you will easily navigate your way to Angel. And after a lovely dinner, you will travel home on the tube. And the air will smell crisp, and the ground will be gritted in preparation for the promise of snow.  And you will remember this time four years ago, and how you couldn’t even conceive how it could all be possible, and you laugh. 

The end. 

Days Like These

The sky is blue. And the air is crisp. And the night before you’ve been to see your favourite band, The Cat Empire. And the gig is not one of their most mind-blowing or exhilarating, but they play some of your favourites, like The Car Song and The Darkness and The Chariot. And seeing those Aussie boys all the way over here in London playing their tight tunes and doing what they do best just makes you feel good. And you remember all the gigs you’ve seen them play over the past 8 years and all the friendships and lovers they’ve seen you through and you know at the end of the day, no matter what, despite the glorious cliche of it, you’ll always have the music. And in the morning you head out to East London to meet up with old friends and you walk down Brick Lane. And you smell all the delicious curries. And you spot one of the lead singers from the Cat Empire and it makes you feel a bit hip that he’s here too. And you walk through the record shop and find a shelf full of books and you find one which looks interesting and you discover a lovely chapter on food foraging in London and you get so lost in its words and pages that you’re surprised when your friends are suddenly standing in front of you calling out your name reminding you that you are standing in a record shop in east London. And then you sit on a bench in the sun with a chilli hot chocolate and a dark chocolate truffle. And to your left a family is posing for photographs. And to your right people are eating assorted food stuffs from the street vendors dotted all around. And you make your way west towards central London and stroll around St Paul’s Cathedral and feel oddly moved by the Occupy London people. This tent city outside the church, peacefully protesting the status quo. And you head back home and buy pasta and sauce and garlic bread for dinner and supplies for cookie baking. And the sun sinks deeper into the west and streaks the horizon with a dash of highlighter pink. And you smile at the chill in the air. And know you are living the life enchanted. The end.