Full House

I've been back in London for a little over three months, living with seven others in a houseshare. It's something I've never really done before, so it's all new to me.

When I first moved in, there were only two others in residence. I must admit that it all felt a bit Big Brother at the time as new housemates joined The House. We all get along well enough with each other, considering we have no communal living area, just the kitchen. It'll come as no surprise that the kitchen is where we spend most time talking. That and the garden porch, where a couple of us will share a smoke and chit some chat.

It's also the first time I've lived alone. Which isn't to say I've never had my own place, I have, but I was either dating someone or living with them. This time it's just me. Except that it isn't. I still see my boys and we have the occasional sleepover (last time we had a tent in my room). I really quite like living here. True, it has it's fair share of faults but it suits my purposes.

Two of our housemates have left the house and already been replaced. Just when I was getting used to everybody, the dynamic changes. Oh, well. I know it's a bit of a cliche but that's life. People come and go in our lives all the time. I'm sure the new housemates will fit in just as well as the old ones. 

Who knows where I'll be this time, next year? I don't. But right now I'm happy enough where I am. 

The road less surfaced

Three days ago some huge roadwork vehicles arrived in a street around the corner, you know the kind I mean, diggers and steamrollers, etc. I had been expecting them because a week before signs had been posted in the neighbourhood stating that some road surfacing was due to take place.

Two days ago the road had been completely torn up, signs regarding uneven surfaces and ramps gave drivers fair warning what to expect.

Yesterday a lovely new road, smooth as a baby's bum, had been laid and painted and there was no sign of the industrial vehicles anywhere. That was quick, I was expecting it to take at least a week for them to finish. I shall find an excuse to take my bike for a spin, I thought, and waited patiently for an opportunity to present itself.
 

Today I needed to pop to the shop for some basics (tobacco and Coke) and seized upon the chance to ride the new road. With a smile upon my face and a helmet on my head I rode my bike up an adjoining alley to where the fresh surface awaited. Here we go and here I come.

I was not disappointed. A sigh actually escaped between my lips. Bliss. Heaven. Everything every road should be (I would be happy to pay some form of road tax if this was the standard of London's Roads). It was a pleasure almost beyond measure. Almost, because as I took a bend in the road I noticed that the eutopian surface suddenly ended a short distance ahead of me!

What?
What's going on here? How can this be? Where is the rest of the loveliness? The road workers had only resurfaced a third of the actual road! No wonder they were finished so quickly.
 

 

 

Travelling in style

There's something very civilised about travelling by train. I'm not talking about the London Underground, that can be a nightmare during rush hour, etc. I mean travelling in comfort, watching the countryside pass by the window, mile after mile.

I went on a trip recently and recorded some random video clips, cut them together and put it to music. This is it.

http://youtu.be/CDTuE85Vehg

I hope you like it.

Day 123: Sunshine

This weekend has been filled with sunshine. I'm not talking about the weather, though. I am referring to my eldest son, Tom.




I haven't seen him since before Christmas. He was away in France, visiting his mother's family at that time. Back in England, they both live many miles south of London, which may not be the other side of the world but it's a four hour round trip on a good day. With my three year old, Freddie, in tow during rush hour, it can be somewhat stressful. But I'll tell you something for nothing. It's well worth it.




He's getting too old for kisses now but the hugs are getting better with every visit.

If you're not proud to be British, it's because you're not British!

When I was younger, I used to watch my mother screaming at the TV, bouncing on the edge of her seat and going a funny shade of red. This was not usual behaviour for her. Lazy Sunday afternoons usually found my mum with a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. What can have brought about such a change? No, it wasn't that. It was...




I didn't understand how the Olympic games could affect people in this way. To a young boy, finding his way in the world, it simply didn't make sense that the outcome of a race could lift people up in ecstatic rapture or leave them utterly deflated. It was during the men's 3000m, on Saturday night, that I began to exhibit symptoms similar to that of my mother's. I began to feel tense and restless as the race went on, lap after lap.
And then it happened.
I found myself bouncing on the sofa, clenching my fists and snarling at the television. "Come on! Come on!" I Could feel tears in my eyes and my heart was punching it's way out of my chest as an historic gold medal was won for Great Britain. Now I know what my mum was getting so worked up about all those years ago.

I (didn't) predict a riot

After a week of rioting, England is finally getting itself back on it's feet. It'll still take a long time to recover, though, as the country really took a savage beating over a prolonged period.




The majority of riots I've seen in the past have only lasted a few hours or a day or two at most and are usually confined to one or two localised areas. This was different.
It started, in Tottenham, as a protest to the death of a man, shot by police during an arrest gone bad and quickly became ground zero as, over the next couple of days, it spread across london to Enfield, Hackney, Lewisham, Ruislip etc.




And it became clear that London isn't a city that has exclusive rights to breed aggresive, sub-human thugs. It wasn't long before cities like Manchester, Nottingham and Liverpool joined the fray.




I'm not going to try and rationlise any of their behaviour because I wasn't there. But, for a country dragging itself out of recession, this isn't going to help one bit.

My Boys

So, I'm on my way to collect my boy in London, which means an hours journey there and an hours journey back again. And I'll have to do the same again, tomorrow, when I return him to his mother.
It's a pain but I'd rather that, than never seeing him at all. I've already missed so much of his life. It's true that I've seen him every weekend for the last seven(!?) years but I still miss out on the everyday moments. The tapestry of his life, I suppose.
I'm never going to let that happen with my youngest son. I wish I could have both of them all the time because they are so good together. You should see those two making each other laugh. My Boys. Xx