My weekend took me to London, visiting some of my bestest friends in the whole world. As a result, I’m absolutely shattered and have had so very little sleep over the last few days. Monday came much too quickly and I’ve had to plunge back to work with deadlines and conference calls and all matters of life in the work place taking priority as it sometimes does.
There is something so special about this city. A much, much larger version of Manchester with it’s host of street vendors, bustling for your business, a clashing of cultures and diversity and languages.
I’m not a tourist here, really. Or at least I don’t feel like one. Living only a train ride away for 8 years before moving to the North and visiting every couple months or so, I’ve spent far too much time pounding it’s streets to consider it a strange city anymore.
It’s funny trading my car for my Oyster card for a few days, both on buses and on the tube. There’s a strange sense of freedom not worrying about parking, not worrying about how you are going to get home, not worrying if you’ve stayed a little too long in the pub.
One of these days, however, I’m probably going to have to accept that I’m far too old to laugh loudly with my mates in posh restaurants, to dance in the middle of their living room, to stay up until 6am talking and drinking wine and swapping stories and laughing and laughing until my sides hurt, until my eyelids can fight no more, until the birds alert us of the dawn.
But I’ll never be too old to appreciate the fire this city provides inside of me and the organic sprawl of old and new, of traditional and cutting edge sat happily side by side on nearly every one of its streets.
Perhaps that’s part of the reason I like an eclectic mix in interiors. There’s just nothing quite like seeing beauty in the simplest juxtapositions.
I’ve linked this post to Happy Homemaker’s Around The World in a Day party for expats. Join the party here.
All images via we heart it.