Flat rejected.
I got on the bus to Greenwich to meet an interpreter/friend. As soon as I set my foot on the ground I really do believe I’m in a different city; a posh area, although beautiful enough to make me fall in love with it. There are small shops all around me and there is a wonderful flea-market with all sort of handmade vintage stuff. I can fall for each one of them and for all of them at the same time.
We have wine under the rain. It no longer bothers me, the rain. I got so used to it I almost cannot feel it wetting my skin, my hair, my soul. It is a good thing I guess if I plan on living in London.
I think I need to leave now. I got to meet another friend, which didn’t work out after all…So I have 3 hours until my train and I really need to sit, have some rest, drink coffee, gaze at the people passing by…I get off from the tube in Bermondsey, not the best choice, thus I get in again and I get off in Westminster. I walk all my way until the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square. I can’t stand all the tourists being around waiting to see some people on some horses. Naah, stupid enough. However, that would be my behaviour if I was a tourist in London. I am really trying to find that pretty small Italian coffee place I discovered the other day behind the National Portrait Museum but I can't locate it so I decide I’m gonna have coffee in the royal dining room of the Gallery.
I walk up the stairs, I get in. A nice young man shows me to my table. I have a great view. I like watching people walking underneath the window I’m sitting next to. Some of them are in a hurry. Some are laughing, others have headphones in their ears. There are children everywhere. Friends. So many tourists get lost and ask the policemen for directions. They seem very kind and they help everyone.
All of a sudden I see a couple in the crowds. A newly married couple. She is beautiful. Her wedding dress is white with a yellow ribbon around her waist which ends in a lovely tiny bow at the back of her dress. It is not a long dress. It is just below the knees. She wears sandals. British-taste sandals. The guy is very tall. He is in a suit. He is also holding a baby. Their baby. Funnily enough they ask the tourists to take a picture of them standing in front of Trafalgar’s fountain.
I go back to reading my French book again. I smile and I feel happy. There are so many words I don’t know. I take note of all of them. I also started listening to people’s discussions and I’m writing them down. Is this sick? I guess not. I am just practicing for interpreting.
The nice tall waiter comes with my cappuccino and cheesecake. The biscuits are so well bonded together that I cannot go all the way down with my fork from the cream to the biscuit . So every time my fork reaches the china, it makes a sound and everybody turns around and stares but that is fine. I finished 3 chapters of my book, multiple words to find out there. My coffee is done and my cheesecake no longer exists.
The waiter brings the bill and asks if I’m Greek. How did he know? Anyway, we start talking. He is from Kos and he lives in London for the last 3 years. Aah, the real estate agent was Greek as well. What the? I need to get used to it, I guess…
I go outside the Gallery and the sun comes out. There are so many people. It is 6:00 o’clock in the evening. It is Saturday. There is a man on the square who blows into a circle and forms huge soap bubbles. They are pretty. They get all sort of different colours because the sun rays reflect on them; yellow, green, red, orange. I smile and I feel happy again. One of them, taken by the wind, lands on my head and breaks. Now, I feel even happier. It’s like I’ve received some soap bubble blessing or something.
I walk my way back to Waterloo station because I want to see Thames from my favourite bridge, the Golden Jubilee Bridge. This is the one that takes you to Southbank right next to all the summer festivals and the book market. There are 8 girls on the bridge. They are throwing a bachelorette party for their girlfriend. Their skirts are tiny tiny. Typical! They hold clothespins and they pin them on other people’s skirts, shirts, jackets. There is this saying, they say, that if the bride pins you, you gonna be getting married after her. I watched out. I didn’t get pinned.
I arrived at Southbank book market but I’m late and they are already packing in back the books. I went straight to the poetry section and I found the Oxford Library Collection of British Poetry; all three volumes for 15£. This is crazy. I bought it, of course. I walked my way under the Sutton passage to Waterloo Station falling almost like Pisa tower towards one side due to the weight of the poetry Collection. Poetry is heavy ha, I thought and I smiled and I felt happy again. I got on the train and I’m back in GU27YW. It started raining again. I just need more days in London.
