~£~ Absolute silence on the Tube from the airport… I almost felt the need to pull out a “would you rather..?” with my fellow Tubers just to break it... and it continued as I walked across the Thames on the Putney footbridge. It was a Sunday morning, yes, and it was cold, yes, but still: I felt like a Mum who'd just escaped into the bedroom after 4 months of non-stop noise from needy, overexcited children.
~£~ Cold, crisp air. No sweat. No sweat?! How will my body cope?! I'm wearing Burberry instead of Eau de Stinky Lass. It's a nice feeling. But this also signifies the sudden downturn in Vitamin D levels, the fading of my glorious (OK, mild) tan, and a step towards potential seasonal depression.
~£~ Space. Footpaths that are straight and clean and not a series of potential ankle-rolling opportunities. It's a runner's dream, especially when combined with aforementioned cold air (although gloves will need to be purchased).
~£~ Decreased smile factor, as predicted. Am trying hard to give a grin to all fellow runners in the morning. Why are we so afraid of projecting happy vibes towards fellow people on the street? Why is it OK to stare and smile sexily in bars but we freak out about doing that in public spaces without smoke/alcohol/sexy lighting/sexy dresses?
~£~ Being back in The West and freaking out, pretty much on arrival, about lack of plan. Wishing could keep aforementioned freak outs at bay, but feeling definite need to make a fucking life plan or something. Feeling stupidly relieved by acquisition of phone and laptop. Actually not even ashamed about laptop- feel like have small child that I need to look after and take everywhere with me and treat with love and devotion.
~£~ Perving on London boys and girls and their amazing fashion. Cool glasses (damn why aren't I blind), great hair, careless chic, tight tights. I'm feeling bright colours at the moment, combatting potential winter blues (read: greys, blacks, boring browns.)
~£~ Drinking wine out of big glasses. Not glasses like the sexy Londoners are wearing, that would be entirely impractical. No no: big, voluptuous, sparkling beauties. I could be drinking corgi urine out of them and still be having a thoroughly lovely time, I think.
~£~ Initial attempts to carry out romantic notions of sitting in coffee shops and using laptop to boast about carrying out romantic notions of sitting in coffee shops with laptop thwarted: internet not working here, internet not free there. Come on London, you're making Asia look much better than you!
~£~ There is a man sitting across from me who looks like Zac Braff. That's a bit cool.
~£~ Update on the Rushdie situation: Midnight's Children- finished. At about 5am on another shitey sleep night. Saw a picture of Salman in the paper in London the other day. Pretty much like seeing my best friend.
~£~ I think it's almost time for me to step away from dot points for awhile. I do love them so, but I'm beginning to feel a bit cheap and nasty. Would my life feel more substantial if I embraced The Paragraph?
Love Cold Claire, warmed only by the razzle dazzle of the lights of the West End and lots of wine.