Bird on a Train

I’m having an unfortunate day. I need to be in central London and I hate going. Hate is not a strong enough word for how I feel about this.

I left this place for a reason.

Up at silly o’clock to go to work with the Hubby just to avoid a train from the south coast, oh and people I’m not overly fussed about people. No breakfast other than a couple of Gaviscon (I get too anxious doing this type of thing so best not to play with fire). The sheer panic of being on my own in a place I used to know well but it’s all different, it’s all louder, its greyer (I love grey but not this concrete jungle shade) it’s all… I would say smellier but it is early morning and a heady mix of aftershave and perfume permeate the air which is pleasantly surprising.

My first bad move? Only seat available is travelling backward. More Gaviscon. 

Although, I am nicely distracted by the old warehouses and factories transformed into rather nice living spaces, the small minimalist cubes perched and squished into the available space. The trend for no curtains is a little too much for me but an interesting glimpse into the clean and modern style so many are using to decorate their homes, clearly IKEA are faring well (note to self: stop off there later to grab a few bits for the kitchen and then spend £200 on stuff I didn’t realise I needed… oh and have meatballs for dinner – cos that’s the done thing when visiting a homewares retailer).

I don’t remember things being so crammed. I don’t remember not being able to hear myself think. I’m currrently tucked in a coffee shop about five minutes from where I need to be, the classical music providing a much needed soothing atmosphere. At last I can’t deal with food, croissant and a hot chocolate. No body smiles here either, granted having a perpetual RBF* myself I can’t really talk. But it’s interesting.

I’m awed by the eclectic mix of buildings, even all the new builds seem to purposely want to be different, weird armaments on top (I assume they aren’t guns but from the train and with my eyesight they may well have been). Maybe this isn’t so bad, maybe the old town mouse in me might resurface and re-acclimatise? 

I wish the nerves would bugger off, let me enjoy what is a wonderful city. Let’s see if the journey home is better.

* Resting Bitch Face – unintentional moody face or intentional to scare people off. In my case not to decrease wrinkles, I just look like this.

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