The longer I live here, the more I understand the sense of "village" and "community" established by the British.
The Boy Builders Round the Block from the Bar
Guy and I went for a drink last Friday night, one block away from my office, at The Tea Clipper. There we happened upon ten young men who gradually drew us into their party. They were wishing their (South African) workmate farewell, and they were the loveliest, happiest, hippest, coolest bunch of guys you could ever wish to party with. A mix of Kiwis, Polish, Russian and Australians, they work as a team of builders and home renovators in the posh Knightsbridge homes around the area of my office. We had a riotous night that included several rounds of tequila, arm-wrestling (yes, even me) and great big hugs and shoulder claps upon our fond farewells much later that night.
It was so lovely to come upon them again the day before yesterday, as I walked down to post a letter. They came rollicking around a corner, holding up a ladder and pulled up short when they saw me. The ladder got dropped, everyone said hello and we had a great old natter before waving goodbye and wending on our merry ways. Yesterday again, they waved from where they hung collectively off the balcony of a nearby home. What a nice bunch of blokes! My city corporate white-shirt dude brigade of office colleagues, so smooth, so slick, so ... well ... so city - would just not understand the connection.
Their loss :)
Jingles
When I finally get back to Finchley every night, I walk home from the Tube station down the dark streets and every now and then I happen upon a lady and her dog, standing at their front gate, chatting to the neighbours. Now, in this instance, it's the dog that got my attention the first time. His name is Jingles, and he is without a doubt the loveliest, the sweetest, the most fascinating dog I've ever met. He is a large and beautiful labrador, and he acts as if he is completely human. He is friendly, interested, conversational, social. He is aware ... almost like a sentient being. I'm waxing lyrical, I know, and it's because I'm feeling a bit pet-deprived at the moment, but he really is a sensational character. And it turns out that he is a legend in the local community, and has a following of fans in the neighbourhood. No surprise to me at all. The most wonderful thing is that, nowadays, he recognises me. His whine and woof is a greeting, an invitation to "come up and give me a stroke, for goodness sake! Tell me how you are, how was your day, and did you miss me?"
Last night I saw the lady again, walking to the post box. Her name is Suzie and she and I had a long, fabulous natter about everything and nothing (and Jingles, of course) before heading off in our different directions. She told me I had an open invitation, anytime, to come and knock on her door to visit Jingles. Can you see it now? Margo knocks on door, the mystified husband answers and Margo says "Er, hello, I've just come to visit the dog!"
By gum.
The Boy Builders Round the Block from the Bar
Guy and I went for a drink last Friday night, one block away from my office, at The Tea Clipper. There we happened upon ten young men who gradually drew us into their party. They were wishing their (South African) workmate farewell, and they were the loveliest, happiest, hippest, coolest bunch of guys you could ever wish to party with. A mix of Kiwis, Polish, Russian and Australians, they work as a team of builders and home renovators in the posh Knightsbridge homes around the area of my office. We had a riotous night that included several rounds of tequila, arm-wrestling (yes, even me) and great big hugs and shoulder claps upon our fond farewells much later that night.
It was so lovely to come upon them again the day before yesterday, as I walked down to post a letter. They came rollicking around a corner, holding up a ladder and pulled up short when they saw me. The ladder got dropped, everyone said hello and we had a great old natter before waving goodbye and wending on our merry ways. Yesterday again, they waved from where they hung collectively off the balcony of a nearby home. What a nice bunch of blokes! My city corporate white-shirt dude brigade of office colleagues, so smooth, so slick, so ... well ... so city - would just not understand the connection.
Their loss :)
Jingles
When I finally get back to Finchley every night, I walk home from the Tube station down the dark streets and every now and then I happen upon a lady and her dog, standing at their front gate, chatting to the neighbours. Now, in this instance, it's the dog that got my attention the first time. His name is Jingles, and he is without a doubt the loveliest, the sweetest, the most fascinating dog I've ever met. He is a large and beautiful labrador, and he acts as if he is completely human. He is friendly, interested, conversational, social. He is aware ... almost like a sentient being. I'm waxing lyrical, I know, and it's because I'm feeling a bit pet-deprived at the moment, but he really is a sensational character. And it turns out that he is a legend in the local community, and has a following of fans in the neighbourhood. No surprise to me at all. The most wonderful thing is that, nowadays, he recognises me. His whine and woof is a greeting, an invitation to "come up and give me a stroke, for goodness sake! Tell me how you are, how was your day, and did you miss me?"
Last night I saw the lady again, walking to the post box. Her name is Suzie and she and I had a long, fabulous natter about everything and nothing (and Jingles, of course) before heading off in our different directions. She told me I had an open invitation, anytime, to come and knock on her door to visit Jingles. Can you see it now? Margo knocks on door, the mystified husband answers and Margo says "Er, hello, I've just come to visit the dog!"
By gum.
Comfort Zones
It has been the hardest thing, getting used to a different commute on the Tube, different working hours in a different part of London. Knightsbridge is so incredibly close to Covent Garden, but it feels like worlds away. I miss Covent Garden dreadfully - the shopping, the glamour, my park, my friends. I miss the ritual of lunch, the closeness of everything, the ease of the commute down to Charing Cross.
It makes me completely understand why people in this town, this country, become so immersed in their comfort zones, that they will not change their local pub for twenty years. They stay with what they know, and now I know why.
It's the Village Mentality, and I guess that makes me the Village Idiot :)
It has been the hardest thing, getting used to a different commute on the Tube, different working hours in a different part of London. Knightsbridge is so incredibly close to Covent Garden, but it feels like worlds away. I miss Covent Garden dreadfully - the shopping, the glamour, my park, my friends. I miss the ritual of lunch, the closeness of everything, the ease of the commute down to Charing Cross.
It makes me completely understand why people in this town, this country, become so immersed in their comfort zones, that they will not change their local pub for twenty years. They stay with what they know, and now I know why.
It's the Village Mentality, and I guess that makes me the Village Idiot :)
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