So instead, I will garble on about a few things I will never get used to about London, and probably segue into a few other random tit bits, and finally cool down from the run I just went for and go for a shower, but that could be hours yet.
After ten years in London:
- I will never get used to the heat of the tube, especially in summer. Once the temperature starts to rise, I refuse to sit down even if there are seats available. I stand up, avoiding sitting on the hot seats that have been absorbing the sweaty heat of the previous persons arse, and yet still, the line of sweat trickles down my back, underneath the thinnest top I could feasibly wear without it being see through, and even though no one can see it, I feel like they all can, and they're judging me for perspiring.
- I will never get used to the people that keep on long sleeves and jumpers, and sometimes even coats, on the tube. Yes. Coats. I'm sweltering in shorts and a sleeveless tops and there are those in full suits, who must just stew in their arm pit sweat all day. I don't get it. I never will. Just go in a t-shirt and get changed at the office.
- I think I have shown that I will never lose my accent. Bath and castle will always be bath and castle, never barth and carstle. Though I do admit to changing from buzz to bus. When you work with kids and you sing Wheels on the Bus several times a day, then it gets drummed into you pretty hard, that actually the word is bus with an s, not two Zs like the sound a bee makes. Though I can revert back when necessary. And after some time up north with my family and friends the accent gets stronger and I love that. I love seeing southerners trying to figure out where I'm from, especially as I have a few accent remnants from my time working in Manchester too.
- I will never get used to how brilliant the public transport is and yet most conversations you have are to do with the weather - of course, it's Britain - but also the trains, or lack there of, or delay of, or cancellation of, or the fullness of, or the lack of air conditioning on, or the removal of carriages or the lack of crew. It is right up there with the weather as the most talked about small talk and probably the most complaints. And yet, the network is absolutely fantastic...when it works. You can get anywhere across London and beyond, by probably two or three or maybe more different ways, different modes and different options. I love not having to drive. I love that I don't have to rely on other people in order to get myself places, though I do have to rely on the services actually running.
- Somehow I am still working with the same nursery chain, though in a different capacity and no longer full time, but considering I pretty much hated it from day one, I've actually managed to make the most out of it, and from those first four and half years of stress and upset and occasional sparks of fun and brilliance, I have built a network of families, parents and children that I am still working with, and that have enabled me to support myself as a part-time-self-employed-wannabe-writer. (Wow, that's a long sentence.) You see, somewhere along the line being nice and good with children, and having some musical abilities have paid off. Who knew?
- I will never understand the way London joins up from one famous spot to another unless I have walked there with my own legs, and then I will probably know only one way to walk there and I will always take that street for fear of ending up in Narnia. It's a big place and you are never going to run out of areas to visit or new streets to walk down. I love it. You can also do all your exploring without bumping into everyone you've ever known and all those annoying people from high school who made you miserable just because they had blonde hair or were thinner or had actual fashion sense - something I've never aspired to - or more money or were cleverer. You can be fairly anonymous and that's quite nice too. It's quite freeing. Who gives a shit that I just spilled my drink all over myself, I'll never see that person again, they probably live near Wembley, or more likely South of the river, or even more likely, they're a tourist.
- I love the weird, almost rivalry, between North of the river and South of the river. It's a big thing. And quite often, once you have chosen your side of the river, you will always live that side of the river. Not many people switch. For instance, about ninety percent of everyone I've met, worked with, or been friends with in London, have lived South of the river, which always meant a hefty trek to visit. But we have always been North. And we can't understand why other people don't come North - except for of course, the house prices - because it's brilliant! Camden, Hampstead Heath, Kings Cross, London Zoo, Primrose Hill, Regents Park... Yes I realise I just mentioned lots of really expensive places to live. Okay. I get it, but I still wouldn't move South of the river. I need to be North, it's in my blood.
Excuse me whilst I quickly segue into some random tit bits...
This week saw me making huge progress in overcoming one of my more recent fears: that of deep water. It's been going on a good few years now and unfortunately, plagues me in deep swimming pools, resulting in panic attacks once I realise I can no longer stand up. I know. Pathetic. I used to be a really strong swimmer. But I've been taking one of the boys I pick up from school to swimming lessons over this term and sitting there watching people swim was actually making me jealous.
I used to love to be in the water, even the open air pool in Blackpool. My mum has a photograph of me, practically blue in the face from the cold, but refusing to come out. And now, there's this block, this barrier, that's keeping me from doing something I actually really enjoy. And I know it's probably psychological, because I haven't had any bad experiences or anything like that, but I do have a powerful imagination, and I do presume the worst in situations, and I do watch a lot of horror films. So...
But this week I decided to go for it. And after the child's parent had come to collect him, I got into my swimming stuff and I made myself get in that pool. It turns out singing a song you like, by an inspiring woman can work wonders, as can just telling yourself - in your head - that it's fine and it's just water. And also a bit of Dory advice too: just keep swimming. Just get to the other side. It doesn't matter that the water has changed colour because of the depth. It doesn't matter that I can't stand up. I don't need to stand up because I'm swimming, and also there are two lifeguards there and as I'm in the slow lane we are right by the side of the pool, so I can grab on if necessary.
The song I sang to myself was: Take to the sky by Tori Amos, which also got me through the last 8 miles of a half marathon, many moons ago. For some reason it propels me on and gives me a push. These are the chorus lyrics, I added the brackets:
'You can say it one more time,
What you don't like. (Deep water)
Let me hear it one more time then, (I don't like deep water)
Have a seat while I, take to the sky.'
I managed 14 lengths and no panic attacks, though my next big leap will be putting my face in the water. At the moment I am doing breast stroke and keeping my head out of the water, but I'll get there. And my plan was to do the same thing for the next two Tuesdays, which would take us to the end of the school term and also to my summer holidays. But of course England go and lose and are now playing next Tuesday so I won't be able to go. Ah well. Maybe I'll go Wednesday instead as my Italian classes are done until August. Freedom!
Oh, and I had my eyes tested the other day and nothing has changed for the first time since I was seventeen and realised I needed glasses. Whoop! So that's one expense I can cross off the list. I just need to find a new hairdressers as mine has gone out of business, which I only found out yesterday when I called for an appointment. Ah well, I'll cope with my straw like, split end mess for another week.
I should probably go and take that shower now.
As always thanks for reading. I will be up north this weekend visiting my family and friends. Maybe taking a buzz, and I cannot wait. But here's to the next ten years in London. I bloody love it.
Rants.
