My last weekend in London I decided to not do much at all. Friday I spent most of my time at Borough Market. Which is worth wandering around on a lazy day. I circled the stalls sampling bits of cheeses, spreads, cookies, olives, breads and jams. it was a tiny bit of heaven. Or many tiny bits of heaven, suspended on toothpicks, until they found their way to my mouth. Inspired again to be a decent house guest, I bought a greek spread with soft cheese, mint, tomatoes and onions, a crunchy baguette that smelled like angel wings, an assortment of olives and some savory pies. The pies came in many varieties. I took forever to decide until settling on leek with brie, broccoli, walnut with stilton and tomato with goat cheese and herb de provence. I'm surprised that two of the pies actually made it all the way home. The market is bustling, people shopping for groceries or lined up for lunch. It seems to go on forever, each corner a new culinary surprise.
That night was family night. Hung out with Steve and Patrick until Janetta got in. Then we went and met Tessa for Tapas. I love sharing food and sampling as much of a menu as a I can. Tapas is perfect for me. It was a small, quiet local place. Simple, well seasoned food. We had a nice time and time to really talk. A small space without a three year old, not that we didn't miss him, but still a slice of adult conversation is nice from time to time.
Saturday was my last day in town. I spent most of the day doing not much of anything. Working on the suitcase, soaking in the bathtub, drinking tea. Eventually I made it out of the house to meet Janetta and Tessa. Luckily, Steve had stopped by the house and led me to downtown. I had forgotten that the tube line was down. I would probably still be there, trying to figure out the buses, crying into my scarf if it wasn’t for him. He was my knight in shinning tennis shoes.
Janetta, Tessa and Patrick were seeing a film. I showed up, we walked a bit around the city, we walked behind a chocolate festival, sampling. And then after that we sat for drinks. There was a party associated with the film festival. Apparently we never made it to the backroom where the party was. We were in the bar room, wondering why there was no dancing. I managed to meet new friends. Talking about the US, UK and traveling in general. Paris came up. My new friends said that my American accent would be better there than a British one. Smirking, the younger boy stated, “old rivals, French and British”. “Still mad at them for helping America break up with you?” I asked. “They got you away from us and gave you a statue, what have you done for the French?” “World War II?” “The stupid French surrendered.” “Well, you still have to be nice to me because of the war.” A beer was earned. Let this be a lesson kids--those history classes will come in handy (thirty years later, in a bar, while you are awkwardly half-hitting on two men), both probably gay. Stay in school.
A twisty drive through the streets of London and a night full of half sleep ended my last night in weekend.
And now, hello America. Hello friends, pets, 5,000 work emails. I’ve missed almost all of you