Wednesday 16 October 2013

SKIPPING ABOUT LONDON

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, goodnight,

   My oh my, how the two worlds I  find myself straddling fuse together in as always, (at least in my globe) the most whimsical fashion. . . No pun intended!

    Having returned to Central London UK life a little over a month ago, it has been with a somewhat noticeably obvious nod to my beloved countryside self.

   Casually skipping along through 'The City' some weeks ago, in other-words the financial district of Central  London UK, sporting my Green country jacket, hiking boots and somewhat less than 'on-trend' jeans, it was with some mild-amusement I appeared to catch the gazes of 'the suits' (financial district workers). Almost saying through their fixed gazes;

   'who are you?'

   'What are you doing in our area dressed for a countryside expedition?'

   'Don't you know there is a dress code?'

   'We all dress the same here!'

   To which my response would as always have been a polite, if in this instance tinged with a mild sense of jovial humility;

    'Oh I do beg your pardon, I gave-up wearing the same suits every day some years ago.'

   Now now dear man I note to self.

You see, in the mind of a man such as me, rightly or wrongly, I seem naturally to air towards the 'adding a pinch of salt' to situations. (Easier said than done I know).

 Crumbs, heaven only knows why, upon reflection, this is just me.

 Skipping, or more accurately as Autumn throws its' cold-crisp air, occasional down-pours of rain and shorter day's at us here in the UK, trudging about town in my hiking boots, in awe at the size and diversity of London, a city which never fails to bring a warm smile, I absorbed the 'bright lights' of life here.

As the sights and sounds of London charged past, always dashing somewhere, never  I am sure, entirely sure precisely why, it just does, because that's what London is isn't it? . . Dashing about the place.

 Far be it for me to pertain to be any authority, on anything, other than myself I guess. That written, as my legs seem to take charge on my regular jaunts about this city, my eyes and mind I let drift, casually to absorb whichever and all adventures come there way.

 Note to legs:

   'Now the weather is turning, please don't insist on trawling me through EVERY puddle in your way. My feet get soaked!'

   City life here carries with it a delicious mixture of 'the suits', Silver & Gold painted mime-artists who appear to be sitting on absolutely nothing but thin air, for hours upon hours in Covent Garden as a chattering, excitable group of school children (nearly always accompanied by a slightly less than excitable looking teacher) skip past. A steady drove of Lycra vested cyclist will be fiercely 'charging' somewhere, although I fear even they know not why (nearly always accompanied by a delightfully traditional 1950's esq bicycle complete with wicker basket attached trundling merrily along ringing a bell behind them).

   All this and oh so much more, all in the same place.

   I now find myself by Big Ben. Having taken all of fourteen months to realise, the frequent jaunts I enjoy have made this beautiful city shrink. Looking at the London Underground Tube maps for seemingly endless hours over the years, this past fourteen months have thrown wide my eyes to the enhancing qualities of London living, all within about a half hour, forty minute skip about the place from one another.

  An engagingly friendly chap serving coffee at a globally known brand of coffee houses smiles as I wander in to quench my thirst and replenish my energy.

   'Medium Latte?'

He enquires, grinning knowingly.

   'Oh yes please . . . make it a large one'

   I add quickly.

   'You use the tube?'

   He enquires seeing the slightly bedraggled state of my hiking boots.

   'Not any-more.'

   I reply, whilst busying myself with the vanilla and cinnamon shakers.

   'Ciao.'

   Ciao.'

   Out in to the metropolis of city life I march. Soggy feet and all.

    To take the tube is for me, in the most part, something of a rare necessity. Call me a country-boy or call me a country-boy, but to truly embrace this city, legs must be exercised.

   As with the hurdles in life we face, to skip along letting our minds and eyes casually absorb whichever and all adventures come our way, it seems to me to lighten the load of trying times.

   City life, as in life, to the casual observer, is always brimming with 'a pinch of salt' moments.

   As countryside gardener Alan Titchmarsh recounts:

   'I like to think of it as something people can dip in and out of.'

   Until we meet again through the page, I trust this finds you in good health and a happiness,

Warmly yours

    R J Wardle