Gone are the union jacks adorning chests, heads, faces, backs, legs and bags. Gone are the colours of the world. Gone is the pride for country and man. Gone is the sense of community. Gone is conversation with strangers.
London is bleached. Back to it's usual grey suited, black briefcased best. No conversation. No sound only kindles and Ipods to block out the rest of existence. That stiff upper lip at its stiffest. Smiles buried. Pride reigned in. Head's down. Now there is no longer anything to talk about, why bother?
I realised today after walking behind a suity, wearing a grey suit and carrying a black briefcase, that I had no desire to ever have to wear a suit to work. (Not that anywhere requiring a suit would ever employ me.) But it just struck me as ridiculously boring and limiting. How do you express your personality? How do you be yourself? And the briefcase. Oh no. A sexy satchel yes, but a briefcase....no!
Thankfully though, pre-school teachers/writers don't tend to need smart clothing, so that's a relief. And to be honest I'd never get anywhere with a briefcase. I usually have a rucksack and at least one other shoulder bag. Travelling light, not my thing.
My Ipod battery ran out on the way to work on Tuesday and I felt so dejected. I can't remember the last time I didn't have music to drown out the world on a tube journey unless A was there with me. But what surprised me most was the quiet. No one spoke. This is no exaggeration. No one spoke in the whole carriage. No one even made eye contact. It's every man for himself (or herself), absorbed in whatever activity is part of their commuting routine. Be it newspapers, books, writing, kindles, games or puzzles. I did actually see a guy once sat on the floor of the tube writing music on manuscript paper. And of course some of the more seasoned travelling women can apply make-up and do some pretty complex beauty regimes whilst speeding along the London travel network. Boggles my mind.
Anyhoo. Am having a doubt time at the moment, when I second guess everything thought, word and action. Am I on a downward spiral or is it just my mind making me think I am? The mind is a pretty dangerous and influential appendage (not sure if that's quite the right word to use in this circumstance, but it is a good word.).
It can manipulate your thoughts and actions, reduce you to a blubbering wreck or leave you feeling high as a kite.
It can work with you or more often than not against you, dragging your inner most anxieties to the forefront, exposing your worst fears. The mind can be a great tool if it can be controlled. But do we control it, or do it control us? Can you in any way separate yourself from your mind? It is welded into your brain, a part of you that is always on. It stores all those memories and experiences that have happened to us and throws them back at us whenever it decided. And usually the ones we'd rather forget. The ones that make your stomach clench, your teeth grate and your cheeks pink with embarrassment. No other organ or part of your body has that power over you. It is not to be trifled with!
Ahhhhhhh. Apologies for the depressive moment. And the random rambling. It probably doesn't make a lot of sense but sometimes I just have to bash out some nonsense and make some sort of sense of it and then bore you guys with it. He he.
And now I have a boring training session. I finished work at 4 and had to come back at 6 to learn about the new EYFS. Yeah. Change. Oh how I love it!
I've worn a flower all day, a present from one of my kids. You gotta love 'em.
Oh and randomly I had my first comment on blogspot last week from a guy who also saw a cirumzenithal arc in the sky over the Olympics park. How weird. There were two sky nutters out there. Who would have thought?
Have a great Wednesday night.