Another weekend gone in the land of corgies, relentless rain and the infamous "oopsy daisy" (thank you Hugh Grant.)
Friday arrived bright and early, minus the bright. I arrived at work before the sun had risen and caught a quick glimpse of light during my 10 minute lunch dash. The rest of the day was spent inside catering to fancy men in important suits. Or important men in fancy suits... By the time 5.30pm rolled around it felt like midnight and sleeping in the office definitely ran through my mind. I almost fell asleep on the bus (again, this is getting to be a problem. I'm one of those people now) and went to bed not long after I got home.
Saturday I moved into my new apartment! Hurrah! I no longer have to worry about putting things out of reach of young children, hiding food or tripping over scattered toys. I'm also sad to not have shouting/crying/laughing wake up calls, nightly games of hide and seek and indoor football (shh, don't tell) and never being able to watch TV without being used as some form of jungle gym equipment.
Closing the door behind me and turning my back on what will always be my first memories in London, the jaunt from one corner of London to another was made infinitely easier by an extra pair of hands. Rara took the suitcase. I took my backpack. Good deal.
It was raining and we needed two tubes, but somehow we were at my wonderful new neighbourhood before I could complain that my shoulders were burning, my legs felt weak and I was never, ever doing this again. A quick bit of unpacking (read: everything in washing machine. Deal with at later date) and we were blasting Florence and the Machine and heading all the way off to Balham.
And you know what they say, what happens in Balham, stays in Balham. I think they're right too, most of the population there seemed borderline alcoholic and sleeping on the street by midnight. Unfortunately, timing is not our best attribute and the last tube we "promised" to get home, left without us. Two buses, two hours later and we were home, weary.
Sunday may have started slowly, but led to Camden markets where we joined the throngs of Sunday revellers, people of every age, colour, country and style conversing on one small stretch of street, a tangle of dreads, studs, flares, tattoos and piercings. Obligatory 4 pound mix and match at the wonderful Thai stall (order: everything. Ask and you shall receive. Never knew rice, noodles, teriyaki, green curry, fried chicken mash would taste quite so appetizing.)
As the sun slid away and the rain drops began to fall, we walked to Mornington Crescent tube and caught it all the way to Embankment, a small stroll to Southbank, currently home to a wonderful Christmas market. Feeling transported back to France, we were overcome with vin chaud, crepes, waffles, gingerbread and Christmas knick knacks of everything you've ever wanted and never needed.
What Christmas is really all about.
We left, dragging our feet home, Big Ben glowing beautifully next to the London Eye, which watches over its city with a view second only to Thy Big Man, and 'Christmas Is All Around Us' ringing blissfully in our ears.
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