On London (and why I never write anymore…!)
‘There’s nowhere else like London. Nothing at all, anywhere.’ – Vivienne Westwood.
London is a busy place. It’s a city that never sleeps (yes, I know they say that about New York, but it definitely applies to London too!). There is always something going on – the list is literally endless of all the achingly hip, cool places you simply must go to this week. There are new articles every single day in TimeOut London and Secret London about these new pop-ups, the next big thing, a hidden place that only real Londoners know about that you should go to quickly before it’s too late and everyone finds out where it is.
It’s taken a quiet Friday night in and a day on my own to realise that I actually thrive on this rush. London and its tirelessness invigorates me and keeps my mind occupied. I like discovering new parts of this city, walking by streetlight around central London, watching the reflections of buildings that glow orange under a dark sky glitter on the Thames. I love going out and drinking in markets, bars, old-man pubs… The rush of adrenaline when there’s someone more drunk than me on the tube, the streets lined with restaurants selling food from around the world. I love that the world is literally on my doorstep.
On the downside, the busy lifestyle I’ve thrown myself into since arriving has distracted me from things that I find important, like this blog and my photography, for example. I’m guilty of spending a lot of time probably not really taking as much care of myself as I should. I’ve somehow become a mid-week drinker, hangovers plaguing me as I pull myself out of bed in the morning at half past seven. Ironically, on the weekends, when I actually could have a hangover day, I more often than not stay in, exhausted after my busy week, and spend my Saturdays and Sundays exploring again, or out of London altogether, making the most of the good transport links.
It’s hedonistic, a rush, I’m running on empty and burning the candle at both ends. It leaves me hardly any time to myself but all the time is for myself. I act more impulsively, hopping off trains when I’m halfway home to turn around and go back out for more drinks. I’m swirling in the middle of a blur of life, a scrum of people and activities and I love it.
Sitting at home today, the first day I’ve spent all day at home on my own since I can’t even remember, I’ve actually felt a bit miserable. A bit deflated. I’ve told myself that I need this – an opportunity to recharge my batteries and have some ‘me’ time but truthfully, I think I’m different now to how I used to be.
I used to thrive in these quiet moments, taking the time to think, to chill out, enjoying box sets, snacking throughout the day, just relaxing. Now, I know that today is enough, if not almost too much. Tomorrow, I must have human contact, I must go out and delve back into the busy city, drink flat whites in a trendy coffee shop somewhere, maybe be a tourist for the day or just wander endlessly, exploring far and wide. I could go on my own or with a friend but I cannot spend an entire day at home again. It’s too much.
I still have reservations about London and how my life here will pan out, but it also feels like London has me, whether I like it or not. For the time being, at least!
NB: One good thing about all this activity is that I’ve kind of been forced to take photos on my phone again, which is a challenge since the camera ain’t all that good! I like a challenge… All photos in this post taken on my HTC, not a DSLR in sight!
