She took the 9:15pm Plane, Going to Heathroooooow.
Pardon my singing, but it’s been a long trip and I didn’t warm up.
Let me start this off by saying I started this blog post on the plane while watching Inside Out. I can’t believe it’s only been ten days since that sleep deprived ride.
Living in London is a dream. (Albeit very expensive dream.) It takes a very special kind of place to be able to support punks and posh within two blocks of each other. Already the place has a quiet familiarity to it. Life, though retaining elements of the hard city life as I’ve come to know it in the states, is something to be enjoyed and relished here. It’s odd for me to find a Londoner just going through the paces. Even in the brief walk from my flat to the tube, I encounter new characters daily – I have yet to see the same group of commuters. (My favorite has been a giant dog relaxing on the Overground.) Though I have mastered the bored tube face, I’m only masking the excitement of having the ability to people watch new batches of Londoners every day.
I am lucky enough to live in Camden, right above the Devonshire Arms. We can hear the live music on the weekend when we sit in the front room. I’ve even spoken with people through the window on really lazy days. (I wanted to compliment a unsuspecting pub-goer on his mohawk.) There’s something so relaxing about the hubbub (apart from crossing the roads, which is utterly terrifying) in the city. Even the walking speed is slower. I get to play with a dog at work. I’m not sure what could more chill than that.