After more than a week, my body continues to lag half a day behind craving the cold and the sleet and grey clouds hanging low and the 76 to Waterloo, my daily view of St Paul’s and the long meandering walks from Ludgate to Fleet to the Strand and the sea of dashing men with that certain sparkle in their eye, the hustle and bustle and crowds overflowing and Penn and Picasso and Matisse, cinnamon porridge and builder’s tea and the Turkish pastry shop up the road brimming with the goodies I love.
And strong arms firmly pressing a warm body against me.
4 comments:
There is a certain wistfulness about leaving a place that you adored so much. Distance and time will reduce the ache, I'm sure you know, although you might wish to keep that bittersweet feel.
I'm sorry to hear you're still jetlagged, too! I hope it clears up before too much longer.
-- PB
Thanks PB - the jet lag is slowly but surely settling down.
Departing a place whose beauty leaves me giddy, breathless and wanting will always be bittersweet. And I wouldn't have it any other way...
London eh? Should have popped in ;)
Mmmm, too right...
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