My happy place[s]

I miss the sky.
I miss fresh air.
I miss aimless wanderings, a leisurely pace, strolling.
I miss space, time, safety and security.

Sand between my toes.
Sun in my eyes.
Mud. Everywhere.

London is magical in its own kind of way, but I'm definitely incredibly homesick at the moment.

The winter has been a hard one. Never before have I found myself wanting to hibernate LITERALLY ALL THE TIME. Yet this year I have become the biggest fan of the indoors; primarily the biggest fan of my bed (luckiest piece of furniture alive... ahem).

Somehow I have found myself swerving between weekends spent working far harder than I like to, or those spent cramming in as many social activities as I possibly can in a desperate attempt to pick myself up from my slump.

I don't know though. The fact that I haven't felt inspired to write lately, despite several weekends full of beauty, has been playing on my mind. As I wandered along to choir rehearsal this evening (the most welcome almost-mid-week slice of respite), I suddenly found words filling my head. And although they weren't the words I was expecting, I thought I'd go with it. So here I am, possibly about to have my first small moan about living in London.

Those rare, sunny days are best spent admiring the patterns the blinds make.

Finished one book...

... sort of started another.

Trying to make 'art' out of my lesson planning.

Days at home are best spent drinking endless cups of tea.

The most photogenic blinds?

I adore it. I really do! But I think when I look ahead to a move in the future (moving into another property, not moving out of London; despite everything, I see myself here for the foreseeable future. Completely) I decided this weekend that I need to be within reasonable walking distance to a green space.

Dog-walks have proved to be a lot more pleasurable than I could have ever imagined!

In the summer, I'd consider myself to be perfectly positioned when it comes to green spaces. There's Finsbury Park, Clissold Park, Abney Park Cemetery, Markfield Park, Downhills Park, to name a few! Yet in the winter when the cold is as bitter as it has been, even on a sunny day, these green spaces seem worlds away. So this weekend, I actually didn't even leave the flat, which would have previously been completely unheard of in my world!

I'm great at making the most of London, if money were no object. But in the winter months, I have not yet found the solution to winding down without spending, and with my New Year's Resolution not going all that badly at the moment, I'm trying to be stricter with myself this year! I'm also great at doing a lot (when I do let myself out, I sure make the most of it) but I can't seem to manage a day where I do some work, and some play.

A slightly over-extravagant day spent in Chelsea; admiring greenhouses at Chelsea Physic Garden

See in an ideal world, I could spend a Saturday doing a little work (like I'm probably supposed to), and then I could go for a leisurely stroll around 'the park' to break it up, or to energise myself first thing in the morning, or to wind down in the evening before eating myself into a sofa coma. Alas.

Half term is fast approaching (THREE SLEEPS), so I'm hoping that I might take a day or two to venture out into the big, wide world beyond my duvet (it does get as far as my sofa with me as well... apparently a very sorry sight) and have a go at unearthing some happy places for those weekends where I need to get out, but don't want to be out out!

I think the problem of late has been that I'm so familiar with what I've left behind in Norfolk, that my mind keeps taking me there. It's easy to think, 'oh, if I was in Norwich I could go for a walk around the lake', 'oh, if I was at home I could play piano for a while', and it is hard to draw parallels here. But ultimately this is still the very beginning of my London adventure. There is still so much to discover.

So, discover it I will.
Consider me on the search for my happy place[s].

A potentially rather allusive list

Illness has finally descended upon me. Nevertheless, bravely I soldier on, making the train journey to Norwich for a day of hairdressing and parents. Apologies to those sitting around me for profuse flu-sweats resulting in my need to strip down to the bare bones (I want, at this point to liken myself to a woman suffering from the menopause, but I fear it may be rather insensitive, so make whatever association you wish, so long as it’s not too profane)! Seeking a silver lining as always, my keeping tissues visible alongside other tell-tale signs of a cold is meaning that I have four seats to myself around a table... aaaaand ssstttretchhhh...

Armed with teabags to add to free hot water (I LOVE THE CAFBAR SERVICE), a bottle of Fiji, Vogue Magazine, new music and my notebook, I feel more than ready for what promises to be a perfectly pleasant journey (I may have spoken too soon, the Von Trapp family out on a half term day-trip have just landed to destroy my peace!!).

Despite suffering from the plague, half term has been exactly what half term should be; down-time. In six days I have

spent Valentines the way tradition has dictated it must be spent,

been shopping,

attended a party with jazz band, vintage costume and a guest list,

visited the Tate Modern,

reverted to my 17-year-old self and more,

seen the view of London from Alexandra Palace,

lurked outside my original London home with visions of little Laura on the doorstep playing with Polly Pockets as the removal men hauled boxes to the lorry over my head,

had many a moment of music discovery and re-discovery,

finally got internet installed (to assist in music discovery),

bought a vacuum cleaner (this is TOO exciting for words),

eaten good food,

consumed endless cups of tea,

and slowly, but surely, have prepared for the run-up to Easter (not that I’m counting down to the next one already. I am. But perhaps that’s mainly because it’s the birthday countdown and I LOVE birthdays!)

all with some of my most favourite people. 

(Looking at that list, I do wonder whether it’s a little unsurprising that my nose feels about four times its natural size – this is what my days look like when I’m ‘taking it easy’?)

I return to writing this on the last night of the half term, having spent two days giving recovery a better go (between making an appearance at a party on/in/at (?) Kensington Roof Gardens and drinking mocktails in Shoreditch). It’s always nice to write upon reflection, as although I have spent the week feeling rather sorry for myself, I have been very fortunate in spending time doing things I love with people I love spending time with. 

I don’t want to live for the weekends, but I am very much looking forward to discovering what they have in store!

1. Brick Lane; Elephopus/Octophant?
2. 1920's Prohibition Party
3. Neon lights at Tate that I'd been wanting to see for ages
4. From Alexandra Palace
5. Kensington Roof Gardens

Dryanuary (I know that's not the official name, but if you say it really quickly I think it has a better ring to it!)

New Year’s Resolution Number 1 – improve diet! 

New Year's Resolution Number 2 – make time for real Laura time!

By way of adhering to both of these resolutions, I made a rather extreme (by my standards, anyway) decision at the beginning of the year. Every year I have made an attempt to at least say ‘this year, I am going to take a break from alcohol’, and every year I have failed to even say that sentence without an overwhelming sense of doubt, let alone make it a reality. This year, however, despite the reactions of my highly supportive friends (said with a slight hint of sarcasm after mutual agreement that perhaps we could all support each other in our endeavour, followed by shock and awe at the news this weekend that I am still standing by my word), I am making a proper go of it!

Admittedly, I did not start at the very beginning of January, as I had to see to the alcohol store leftover from Christmas (there is still Gin hiding in the freezer if anyone is looking for any) to avoid temptation! However, I have now survived three weekends, substituting Cobra for pineapple juice, cocktails for Turkish teas and red wine for cranberry! I’ve hardly dared to openly own up to my choice to give up alcohol for fear of imminent failure (as I write this, I worry that I sound rather like an alcoholic – as if the ring addiction wasn’t enough!), but this weekend marked a significant achievement in the proceedings, so I now know I am doing well.

Last Saturday I awoke with the most atrocious headache. It was as though my body is so used to my usual morning-after-the-night-before state that it decided to give me that hungover feeling just so I wasn’t in danger of missing it too much. Of course, I was less than impressed, but thankfully it cleared and a most productive weekend followed. This weekend has been equally as productive and although less adventurous, with the weather as it has been, it has been quite nice to spend some time feeling cosy inside. Friday nights spent cleaning to music bordering on an anti-social volume (I’m simply engaging in friendly competition with the Portuguese folk music so loud from our downstairs neighbours that I always feel convinced there must be a live band performing in our kitchen) and/or doing an extravagant food shop have become something I genuinely relish the thought of (old before my time?), and mean that Saturday is not spent in comatose, but instead has the potential for productivity and the outdoor element of making time for ‘real Laura time’ (when I want to venture out, anyway)!

Friday night thriller. It's how I do.

Last night came my real test, as all the odds were against me;

I went out for a friend’s birthday.

I went out for a friend’s 30^th birthday.

I went out for a friend’s 30^th birthday where I knew no one (Dutch courage had to instead come in the form of over-enthusiastic violin playing detrimental to the living room before I left the house, but that’s a-whole-nother story!!).

I went out for a friends 30^th birthday where I knew no one and drinks were in a GIN BAR (gin is my favourite, just for future reference when this is all over)!

The thing is, I not only survived, I really enjoyed myself. Despite the genuine shock expressed by the barman when I ordered a gin and tonic without the gin (he was shocked? Imagine how I must have felt!), the fact that others have expressed admiration, and that I am feeling and (I may be imagining this but) looking better in myself makes me feel like this is totally worth it and I have a true respect for people who do this every year! I won’t share what’s going on in the back of my mind right now, but we’ll see how the land lies; the spoken aim is until Easter/my birthday.

And hey, I had three sausages for my tea tonight. That’s an odd number. I still know how to have a good time!