If bleakness had a colour it would be light grey with a tint of purple.
This is now the depth of winter in old London town. Here I am sitting in my shoebox, a tiny spec amongst the millions of tiny windows lined up in the dark when you look across the city's skyline. The withered leaves have long been swept away and the trees stand bare in the faint neon flushed sky like skeletons lost amongst the buildings and mist. I am scrunched up in a brown striped, fluffy, oversized and overheating jumper I brought in the Netherlands last weekend, resembling more or less the Lion without Courage from The Wizard of Oz. The muddy bottom of my jeans hang drying behind the door and my horrible wet socks are contaminating the rest of the laundry in the hamper. Its not so much the cold or the rain that gets me, but the lack of sunshine time that's giving me a bit of subconscious anxiety. According to Daiv its a proper diagnosed disease called SAD , but then again I am also quite prone to hypochondria. I am just not coping with the early afternoon darkness at the moment and I am desperate to hang out in jandals. Alas it must be December when I am biologically clocked to be sweaty and tanned.
Despite the dreary weather, the Brits who are obviously very used to it keep up the sanity by continuing to gather up in toasty pubs and restaurants and markets and shops across the city, cheering aloud in the festive season, completely ignoring the sharp winds channeling through those damp dark alley ways and the occasional dumps of ‘slush’ on the sidewalks. Every where you go there are Christmas lights dazzling in your eyes, reminding you how bright and cheerful you should be feeling in these darkest hours. Everywhere you go the pints keep flowing and the roasts keep piping, people keep smiling and the irreverent jokes keep mocking. Who says the Brits don’t know how to have fun?
Its been 40 weeks in London, which means about 12 weeks to go before my visa's out and I'll certainly be on the road again. Thinking about the impending departure I have many mixed feelings. No way am I going to spend another winter in England voluntarily I tell myself, but at the same time I’m continuing to have the most ecstatic time here – every day is still fresh and exciting here, and every corner I turn there are still surprises and new things, I keep meeting new and interesting people, and uncover more and more about the whys and why-nots of people do things certain ways on these fair isles. And the endless parties, gigs,
pub crawls…. If it wasn’t for administrative confrontations I would no doubt be spending a few more years here, and if not forever, but I am not a fan of bureaucracy and so I am going to pluck myself away before I can’t. This contagious lifestyle of being on a constant high is almost like being in another type of comfort zone, and I know in the long run I’ll be so complacent in this that I don’t extend myself further else where. So yes, it might just be a blessing in disguise. Looking at a March/April departure for a few months traveling then maybe six months or so in Germany, and home via India if it all works out. Watch this space. Meanwhile, Shanti and I are hoping to be in Turkey and Iran for the Christmas break - but only if the Iran visa comes through.... fingers crossed!!
Updates to come in the near future re: Amsterdam, Cambridge, Bonn, Croatia and Dublin. Meanwhile, videos of a few of London's collection of sporting events that I was lucky enough to observe: London to Brighton Veteran Car Run 2/11/08
Held on the first Sunday in November every year pretty much since 1896, where the original run celebrated the official passing of the law which allowed cars (or Locomotives as they were then known as) were allowed onto public roads for the first time in Briton. Its a nostalgic spectacle of a collection of beautiful old vintage cars (the rule is that the participating vehicle has to be made before 1905!) which chug along at 20km per hour from London to Brighton - of course many don't make it there, some didn't even make it out of Hyde Park where the run starts, but hey, what a splendid morning for all of us cheering those old fellows along!!
Bike Polo in Brick Lane crica November 08
Urban East end boys answer to the aristocratic horse-sport, quite a craft really. Not surprisingly all the players are cute! First invented in 1891 by the Irish (who else would come up with this?), but enjoying a recent modern revival.
Football - Chelsea vs Burnley 12/11/08
On Deno's invitation I arrived at my first ever live football match at Chelsea's home ground at Fulham Broadway. The sheer size and atmosphere is larger than life - its the biggest ground and largest crowd this poor little church mouse has ever seen! Having limited interest in the actual game, its amusing people watching. I consider the fans behaviour like those overbearing parents at Saturday school matches, shouting and tormenting their own team when they are doing badly, while reverting to cheering madly and devoutly to chants during the intervals completely forgiving any mistakes the players would have made just five seconds earlier, and then acting like complete bigots by jeering and swearing when the opposing team scores. And when the home team lost the final penalty shoot, the crowd drops into dead silence and clears the stadium mournfully. Human nature at its most blatant and most honest and finest hour.
On Deno's invitation I arrived at my first ever live football match at Chelsea's home ground at Fulham Broadway. The sheer size and atmosphere is larger than life - its the biggest ground and largest crowd this poor little church mouse has ever seen! Having limited interest in the actual game, its amusing people watching. I consider the fans behaviour like those overbearing parents at Saturday school matches, shouting and tormenting their own team when they are doing badly, while reverting to cheering madly and devoutly to chants during the intervals completely forgiving any mistakes the players would have made just five seconds earlier, and then acting like complete bigots by jeering and swearing when the opposing team scores. And when the home team lost the final penalty shoot, the crowd drops into dead silence and clears the stadium mournfully. Human nature at its most blatant and most honest and finest hour.
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