I spent a few days at my sisters house and we were reminiscing some of our favourite songs from about 7-10 years ago. I came across one that just made me swoon all over again and fall in love. In love with what? Well, that remains a mystery.
For now, enjoy this great cheesy song. I will return soon with a long blog post. Promise!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Lyric
I know I've been quoting a lot lately.. But sometimes it's the best way to sum up everything you feel and think but can't really find the exact words.
This time, it's from one of my favourite songs.
This time, it's from one of my favourite songs.
Have heart my dear, we're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days, making up for all this mess.
Saturday, August 06, 2011
Feed me
As a child I was incredibly thin. It wasn't until we moved to the Middle-East where I found what I loved most. Food. All kinds of food. It was there I realised that I ate not to survive, but I did so out of pure gluttonous love. It was such a new concept to us - we lived in a place where I could eat chicken at any restaurant, stall or packet and know that it was Halal.
Upon settling down, we all gained weight instantaneously. It was inevitable - the food was just a part of our relaxed nature and our laid-back lifestyles. We were finally happy and content. Wherever we went, we managed to find a small yet scrumptious place to eat. Whether it was on the lonely highway between Dubai and Abu Dhabi (which then felt like an adventurously long drive) - where we found a petrol station and a small unpopular eatery that served the best (and largest!) potato wedges with a dipping sauce to die for! Or this unusually yummy grilled chicken sandwich (with no fussy ingredients like vegetables) that would come wrapped in white tracing paper served with greasy but gorgeous chips. Whenever my mum and dad planned a trip to Abu Dhabi, I remember salivating a little, dreaming about the hot potato wedges and the pure white garlic dipping sauce. I would however get sad upon thinking of how I would have to share with the rest of the family.
Around the hungry age of 7, I was completely round. With a matching bob hair-cut which let me tell you, was not pleasing to my already, very round face. I would continue to eat several fillet-o-fish burgers at McDonalds, with added large chips and an apple pie. Shawarma's were like a heavenly made wrap just for me, of which I would devour at least 2 large ones in no time at all. Yes, I was in food heaven - with no care whatsoever of what the food was doing to my chubby body.
It was only when I was about 10-11 years old, when I realised that all the excuses I made for participating in PE classes was not healthy. I enjoyed food too much to burn it off later. What a strange concept, I would think to myself. Exercising was not something I was very fond of. My report card would always read very well, apart from a lower grade for PE, which my dad would just skim through. Clearly, he wasn't much of a "keeping fit" man himself. He loved food, and of all the things I inherited from him - a high IQ was not one of them but being a foodie definitely was.
Upon growing older and understanding food better, and seeing my body swell to a larger size with each passing month, I realised that "being skinny" was the "right" thing to be. I tried to lose weight, by swimming consistently over the hot summer months until my toes bled and formed blisters. But my dad would buy treats that wouldn't help the bulge. He used to buy these chocolate covered marshmallow biscuits that would be so soft and decadent but add about 300 calories per bite. I didn't care. Food was there to be eaten, not to be looked at.
My extended family are also foodies. You can tell with their bulging bellies and the smiles they have whilst eating anything that comes out of a Chicken or a Goat or a Cow. They have this obsession with meat and chicken that took me a while to understand. It was however, only my mum who used to cook a variety of foods when we were younger. And when you have a mother who cooks from all cuisines, and always tries something different all the time, losing weight becomes a long lost dream and gaining weight becomes second-nature. The rest of the family shortly followed by experimenting with foods, that resulted in family favourite recipes like my eldest aunt's old roti's in pieces cooked with mixed vegetables and eaten with yoghurt. Every time I eat it, my nose drips and my tongue burns with heat, but I can't stop eating it.
Even now, when I travel back to Dubai - the first thing I do is eat something that is classified as unhealthy, like a scrumptious cheese burger dripping in pickled sauces and processed cheese. Yes it is all unhealthy, it has high salt content - but if it brings you joy for a few minutes, why not indulge a little? Food has become too much of a bad-obsession these days - leading to either obesity or a size-zero craze. What happened to when no one cared, and everyone ate what they wanted to?
My mum tells me stories of when she was a child and how she would eat fresh cream made from fresh milk with sugar on top, just as a snack. Or when my dad would slice butter and just place it on top of white bread and eat it with sugared tea. They never suffered any health problems, and were very fit and healthy. Do something like that now and you'd be put on the "Fat Families" show or a news paper article titled "the unhealthiest family in Britain."
When I moved back to London, I used to notice how everyone was so weight and figure concious. I have to say, I was drawn into that way of thinking for quite a few years. I started becoming increasingly unhappy with my weight and decided to make changes along the way by trying a range of diets and cutting out many deeply-loved foods. Chocolate, quickly became an enemy and soya-based products a good friend. I was losing weight, but I was unhappy. I started forming more health problems than before, with strange "allergies" appearing and disappearing with a blink of an eye. But I continued to stick to what I felt was best for my health - losing weight. It turned into an obsession when I joined the gym and was aware of everything I put in my mouth. Food became something I ate in moderation and according to my new diet I couldn't think about anything that was delicious - it was a crime. Along the way, losing weight and becoming fitter, I realised that I missed food. I missed the way I saw food.
Lately, I've been having conversations with my sister about different and weird foods she's been trying. It got me thinking that I seemed to have lost that spark with food. From the once cherry-cheeked girl I was, to the now somewhat distracted woman I am, I feel like I need to rekindle that relationship that bought me most joy. Food. You were greatly missed. Long gone are the days where I measured what I ate in calories and cared about moderation. It's all about the satisfaction. Losing more weight will happen in it's own time, I just won't stress myself any more.
Upon settling down, we all gained weight instantaneously. It was inevitable - the food was just a part of our relaxed nature and our laid-back lifestyles. We were finally happy and content. Wherever we went, we managed to find a small yet scrumptious place to eat. Whether it was on the lonely highway between Dubai and Abu Dhabi (which then felt like an adventurously long drive) - where we found a petrol station and a small unpopular eatery that served the best (and largest!) potato wedges with a dipping sauce to die for! Or this unusually yummy grilled chicken sandwich (with no fussy ingredients like vegetables) that would come wrapped in white tracing paper served with greasy but gorgeous chips. Whenever my mum and dad planned a trip to Abu Dhabi, I remember salivating a little, dreaming about the hot potato wedges and the pure white garlic dipping sauce. I would however get sad upon thinking of how I would have to share with the rest of the family.
Around the hungry age of 7, I was completely round. With a matching bob hair-cut which let me tell you, was not pleasing to my already, very round face. I would continue to eat several fillet-o-fish burgers at McDonalds, with added large chips and an apple pie. Shawarma's were like a heavenly made wrap just for me, of which I would devour at least 2 large ones in no time at all. Yes, I was in food heaven - with no care whatsoever of what the food was doing to my chubby body.
It was only when I was about 10-11 years old, when I realised that all the excuses I made for participating in PE classes was not healthy. I enjoyed food too much to burn it off later. What a strange concept, I would think to myself. Exercising was not something I was very fond of. My report card would always read very well, apart from a lower grade for PE, which my dad would just skim through. Clearly, he wasn't much of a "keeping fit" man himself. He loved food, and of all the things I inherited from him - a high IQ was not one of them but being a foodie definitely was.
Upon growing older and understanding food better, and seeing my body swell to a larger size with each passing month, I realised that "being skinny" was the "right" thing to be. I tried to lose weight, by swimming consistently over the hot summer months until my toes bled and formed blisters. But my dad would buy treats that wouldn't help the bulge. He used to buy these chocolate covered marshmallow biscuits that would be so soft and decadent but add about 300 calories per bite. I didn't care. Food was there to be eaten, not to be looked at.
My extended family are also foodies. You can tell with their bulging bellies and the smiles they have whilst eating anything that comes out of a Chicken or a Goat or a Cow. They have this obsession with meat and chicken that took me a while to understand. It was however, only my mum who used to cook a variety of foods when we were younger. And when you have a mother who cooks from all cuisines, and always tries something different all the time, losing weight becomes a long lost dream and gaining weight becomes second-nature. The rest of the family shortly followed by experimenting with foods, that resulted in family favourite recipes like my eldest aunt's old roti's in pieces cooked with mixed vegetables and eaten with yoghurt. Every time I eat it, my nose drips and my tongue burns with heat, but I can't stop eating it.
Even now, when I travel back to Dubai - the first thing I do is eat something that is classified as unhealthy, like a scrumptious cheese burger dripping in pickled sauces and processed cheese. Yes it is all unhealthy, it has high salt content - but if it brings you joy for a few minutes, why not indulge a little? Food has become too much of a bad-obsession these days - leading to either obesity or a size-zero craze. What happened to when no one cared, and everyone ate what they wanted to?
My mum tells me stories of when she was a child and how she would eat fresh cream made from fresh milk with sugar on top, just as a snack. Or when my dad would slice butter and just place it on top of white bread and eat it with sugared tea. They never suffered any health problems, and were very fit and healthy. Do something like that now and you'd be put on the "Fat Families" show or a news paper article titled "the unhealthiest family in Britain."
When I moved back to London, I used to notice how everyone was so weight and figure concious. I have to say, I was drawn into that way of thinking for quite a few years. I started becoming increasingly unhappy with my weight and decided to make changes along the way by trying a range of diets and cutting out many deeply-loved foods. Chocolate, quickly became an enemy and soya-based products a good friend. I was losing weight, but I was unhappy. I started forming more health problems than before, with strange "allergies" appearing and disappearing with a blink of an eye. But I continued to stick to what I felt was best for my health - losing weight. It turned into an obsession when I joined the gym and was aware of everything I put in my mouth. Food became something I ate in moderation and according to my new diet I couldn't think about anything that was delicious - it was a crime. Along the way, losing weight and becoming fitter, I realised that I missed food. I missed the way I saw food.
Lately, I've been having conversations with my sister about different and weird foods she's been trying. It got me thinking that I seemed to have lost that spark with food. From the once cherry-cheeked girl I was, to the now somewhat distracted woman I am, I feel like I need to rekindle that relationship that bought me most joy. Food. You were greatly missed. Long gone are the days where I measured what I ate in calories and cared about moderation. It's all about the satisfaction. Losing more weight will happen in it's own time, I just won't stress myself any more.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Quote
"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it"- Douglas Adams
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Nine
"I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom for me and you and I think to myself.. What a wonderful world"
9 years ago, I lost my father. It feels surreal saying that number. Next year it will be a double digit. Every year that passes though, I feel I've had the chance to know him better than the last. I've learnt about who he was, what his story was and what he did. Whether it's my mum telling me of the time he was getting ready to hit a man with a cricket bat, but made him pee in his pants instead, or my grandfather telling me of how my dad was as a child. I feel he's a whole person now, not just my father, but a man associated to multiple roles - each he manifested with humility, humour and heart.
I wish I knew these sides to him - actually having to witness them first hand. But I guess these are memories and stories that are told in memory of someone. If he were around now, I'd probably still be incredibly scared of him, of making him angry. I don't however remember him angry. I remember him imitating 'Jailhouse rock' in a busy Pizza hut restaurant, complete with an air guitar solo.
Every year that passes by, my idea of the person he was gets stronger, missing him becomes second nature and trying to remember his voice gets a little harder. If you had asked me 9 years ago, if I thought I'd be sane enough to get myself through A-levels, a degree and work full time - I would say that somebody was pulling an awful joke on me. I had little if no faith at all in believing that the pain would get easier to deal with and missing him would be a part of my existence, something I would not delve on.
Its been a long process, getting to where we are today. We keep him alive in everything we do, and sometimes feel his presence in the most needing and yearning of times. There are many moments where I suddenly stop and realise 'I don't have a father' - especially during big and happy occasions. Its wishing he was there to witness these events and the lack of his presence which makes it hard. There are still tough times where I find myself clenching my teeth in tears, hoping he would magically appear with a bag full of goodies and the smell of Sculpture in the air. Those moments pass too eventually and I realise that I am fortunate enough to be surrounded with those who represent him the best.
So when people ask me how I got through 'it' and how I'm still 'alive'.. I just let them know that in the end, it was how amazing he was that inspired me to move on, and get to where I am today.
9 years ago, I lost my father. It feels surreal saying that number. Next year it will be a double digit. Every year that passes though, I feel I've had the chance to know him better than the last. I've learnt about who he was, what his story was and what he did. Whether it's my mum telling me of the time he was getting ready to hit a man with a cricket bat, but made him pee in his pants instead, or my grandfather telling me of how my dad was as a child. I feel he's a whole person now, not just my father, but a man associated to multiple roles - each he manifested with humility, humour and heart.
I wish I knew these sides to him - actually having to witness them first hand. But I guess these are memories and stories that are told in memory of someone. If he were around now, I'd probably still be incredibly scared of him, of making him angry. I don't however remember him angry. I remember him imitating 'Jailhouse rock' in a busy Pizza hut restaurant, complete with an air guitar solo.
Every year that passes by, my idea of the person he was gets stronger, missing him becomes second nature and trying to remember his voice gets a little harder. If you had asked me 9 years ago, if I thought I'd be sane enough to get myself through A-levels, a degree and work full time - I would say that somebody was pulling an awful joke on me. I had little if no faith at all in believing that the pain would get easier to deal with and missing him would be a part of my existence, something I would not delve on.
Its been a long process, getting to where we are today. We keep him alive in everything we do, and sometimes feel his presence in the most needing and yearning of times. There are many moments where I suddenly stop and realise 'I don't have a father' - especially during big and happy occasions. Its wishing he was there to witness these events and the lack of his presence which makes it hard. There are still tough times where I find myself clenching my teeth in tears, hoping he would magically appear with a bag full of goodies and the smell of Sculpture in the air. Those moments pass too eventually and I realise that I am fortunate enough to be surrounded with those who represent him the best.
So when people ask me how I got through 'it' and how I'm still 'alive'.. I just let them know that in the end, it was how amazing he was that inspired me to move on, and get to where I am today.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
In fear of tomorrow
Growing up I had a lot of fears - I was afraid of thunder and lightening (and I still am sadly), of someone breaking in to my house (still have that one too), and of earthquakes (oh.. and this one too).
If I sat down to list my fears - they would be never ending. I have a lot of things to fear. It's only when I sit down to think about what exactly I'm fearing, the rationale behind that fear and why it exists - do I realise that most often it is useless. A complete and utter waste of energy and thoughts on things that "could happen"..
Over the last few weeks, I've been busy - mentally and physically. Life has kept me on the go with several plans and things to do on a daily basis - be it at work or my personal life. I'm understanding that life is moving on at this crazy pace and I am yet to make my way through things I want to and probably should do. Instead, I've spent time analysing my irrational fears and stressing myself out for no reason.
We all get so locked behind our fears all the time, and it stops us from doing so many great things. I mean, we all gotta die one day - why not make each day count and do awesome things until then? Sombre thought, I know - but from where I stand, I want people to remember me as a person who lived and tried everything at least once.
Another Bon Iver song - I hope you're all falling in love with them.
So all - who cares what the future holds, we're not there yet. Let's get through today and do something awesome until then.
If I sat down to list my fears - they would be never ending. I have a lot of things to fear. It's only when I sit down to think about what exactly I'm fearing, the rationale behind that fear and why it exists - do I realise that most often it is useless. A complete and utter waste of energy and thoughts on things that "could happen"..
Over the last few weeks, I've been busy - mentally and physically. Life has kept me on the go with several plans and things to do on a daily basis - be it at work or my personal life. I'm understanding that life is moving on at this crazy pace and I am yet to make my way through things I want to and probably should do. Instead, I've spent time analysing my irrational fears and stressing myself out for no reason.
We all get so locked behind our fears all the time, and it stops us from doing so many great things. I mean, we all gotta die one day - why not make each day count and do awesome things until then? Sombre thought, I know - but from where I stand, I want people to remember me as a person who lived and tried everything at least once.
Another Bon Iver song - I hope you're all falling in love with them.
So all - who cares what the future holds, we're not there yet. Let's get through today and do something awesome until then.
Sunday, June 05, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
I was only for your very space
There comes a point where you can't get your head out of the clouds. It's like they describe in the books, when the girl "falls in love" and she feels like she's walking on air. Except I'm not in love, and I'm not walking on air. I've just moved my head space to another universe for a short while.
I've always been a bit of a day dreamer. I've day dreamed my way through primary school, secondary school, GCSE's, A-levels and my degree. There were times when people were talking to me, but I was miles away, in another place. There's an odd sense of comfort that lies in day dreaming, you can think up things, you can replay memories - alter them, you can be 10 stone lighter (and invisible) or you can just simply be content.
I usually drift away when there's too much going on around me - I don't mean bad things or stressful things, just a lot of things - there may be many chores to do, or work piling up on my desk - whatever it may be, I used to just float off for a few short moments, in attempt to recover my full self from all the tiny places I left them during the day.
Lately I've been in another world - and it shows in my lack of updating my blog. I generally come home after work to shower, have dinner, relax and eventually fall asleep. In this work-weekday routine, I find that I have less time for myself, less time to find space in my head and think - think about meaningless and serious things. I'm not complaining, I am very happy to be this busy, but I've always been the type of person who drifts away effortlessly into another realm, and it feels almost missed now that I have a thousand things on my mind every day.
It felt good to be elsewhere for a while. I had more time to focus on things that were important, and just find a good balance of work life and personal life. I think I'm becoming more comfortable with things, myself and just this space I've created. Although it wouldn't hurt to be walking on clouds with some company, right?
Finally - listen to the new song by Bon Iver. I think I love them more than I did before. This was on repeat for the last week, and I have to say, for 4 minutes and 13 seconds every hour, I was in another world. Click here.
I've always been a bit of a day dreamer. I've day dreamed my way through primary school, secondary school, GCSE's, A-levels and my degree. There were times when people were talking to me, but I was miles away, in another place. There's an odd sense of comfort that lies in day dreaming, you can think up things, you can replay memories - alter them, you can be 10 stone lighter (and invisible) or you can just simply be content.
I usually drift away when there's too much going on around me - I don't mean bad things or stressful things, just a lot of things - there may be many chores to do, or work piling up on my desk - whatever it may be, I used to just float off for a few short moments, in attempt to recover my full self from all the tiny places I left them during the day.
Lately I've been in another world - and it shows in my lack of updating my blog. I generally come home after work to shower, have dinner, relax and eventually fall asleep. In this work-weekday routine, I find that I have less time for myself, less time to find space in my head and think - think about meaningless and serious things. I'm not complaining, I am very happy to be this busy, but I've always been the type of person who drifts away effortlessly into another realm, and it feels almost missed now that I have a thousand things on my mind every day.
It felt good to be elsewhere for a while. I had more time to focus on things that were important, and just find a good balance of work life and personal life. I think I'm becoming more comfortable with things, myself and just this space I've created. Although it wouldn't hurt to be walking on clouds with some company, right?
Finally - listen to the new song by Bon Iver. I think I love them more than I did before. This was on repeat for the last week, and I have to say, for 4 minutes and 13 seconds every hour, I was in another world. Click here.
Friday, May 06, 2011
Twenty Three
So a few days ago I turned 23. It feels weird saying it.
I usually don't care much for birthdays - at least not mine. I just think it's another day in the year, but whilst at university I used it as an excuse to celebrate, go out with friends or do something very awesome - like visiting Thorpe Park. Although these celebrations always took place after my actual "birthday".
I generally take that day to look back on how I've changed, or what I've achieved in the months before me.
Suffice to say, this year I was happy with how things have panned out.
When I was younger, I remember thinking 23 was an age that was so far away. I believe both my sisters were 23 when they were married - but back then, 23 was so different. It's like what 30 is now. Not to say I'm not mature or have a clear head (sometimes) but it's funny how it's all viewed now.
I feel like I'm supposed to be a certain way by now, you know?
Anyway here's a song I've fallen madly in love with.
I usually don't care much for birthdays - at least not mine. I just think it's another day in the year, but whilst at university I used it as an excuse to celebrate, go out with friends or do something very awesome - like visiting Thorpe Park. Although these celebrations always took place after my actual "birthday".
I generally take that day to look back on how I've changed, or what I've achieved in the months before me.
Suffice to say, this year I was happy with how things have panned out.
When I was younger, I remember thinking 23 was an age that was so far away. I believe both my sisters were 23 when they were married - but back then, 23 was so different. It's like what 30 is now. Not to say I'm not mature or have a clear head (sometimes) but it's funny how it's all viewed now.
I feel like I'm supposed to be a certain way by now, you know?
Anyway here's a song I've fallen madly in love with.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Forgotten
There are times when I'm by myself and trying hard to remember something - usually a specific memory, perhaps due to a dream I've had or a particular event that's taken place, although mostly I find myself trying hard to remember certain memories from my childhood or teenager years which just seem to be forgotten or lost in transition.
Although I've learnt about the human memory in Psychology quite a bit, I can't help but wonder what happened to those memories I once had and remembered so well but suddenly became patchy. The weird thing is, I remember remembering them (if that makes any sense). There are moments that I can track back to and see myself thinking about those things I now cannot recall clearly. It's strange. I don't know if it's a case of neglecting memories or just simply having forgotten them.
There's this picture that keeps appearing in my mind. It's of me as a baby, at the crawling-stage, climbing the stairs whilst the house was dim lighted and reaching the top of the stairs and I know, nay, I am very sure that something happens after that yet I can't seem to recall it accurately. It's frustrating.
On a completely different spectrum of thought.. I think it's useful when somebody forgets something. It can actually work to their benefit. Although, more on this later.
Although I've learnt about the human memory in Psychology quite a bit, I can't help but wonder what happened to those memories I once had and remembered so well but suddenly became patchy. The weird thing is, I remember remembering them (if that makes any sense). There are moments that I can track back to and see myself thinking about those things I now cannot recall clearly. It's strange. I don't know if it's a case of neglecting memories or just simply having forgotten them.
There's this picture that keeps appearing in my mind. It's of me as a baby, at the crawling-stage, climbing the stairs whilst the house was dim lighted and reaching the top of the stairs and I know, nay, I am very sure that something happens after that yet I can't seem to recall it accurately. It's frustrating.
On a completely different spectrum of thought.. I think it's useful when somebody forgets something. It can actually work to their benefit. Although, more on this later.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Quote
'I think,' she said, 'that you and I could make each other terribly unhappy.'
And as she spoke, something deep inside him keeled over a little, as if in defeat. 'I think,' he said slowly, 'that I'd like that very much.'
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Conversations
I spend approximately 2 hours a day commuting to and from work. In this time I mostly read a newspaper or my book (which by the way, I am in love with), but whilst reading I can't help but overhear conversations, laughter and various other human oriented sounds. I am not really the type to eavesdrop or sit and stare at other commuters, in fact I try to get as much space away from them as possible so I don't smell their awful morning breath or unwashed clothes, I do however pass smiles to friendly people. I'm not a grumpy commuter, I think I'm a curious and excited commuter (well at least for the time being).
I find it very interesting sitting across people whom I have never seen before and hear them talk about things with their tones increasing or decreasing depending on the level of secrecy or gossip they are talking about. You hear some strange things on the tube - some very intimate secrets to some extremely bizarre and eccentric conversations. I've sat across lovers, elderly couples, friends, siblings, parents, grand parents, great grand parents and kids. Each journey I have taken has been different and I'm not trying to romanticise a 45 minutes underground journey on the less than romantic Central Line, but it's true. There are some unpleasant journeys when the tube hits peak times and you're squashed underneath someone's armpit across the cheek of an unshaven man with a suitcase that weighs a tonne on your feet whilst a woman loses balances on thin pencil heels in front of you and falls on you. But during all journeys the only thing that stays constant is my fascination with how people interact and communicate with one another.
The other day, there were two friends who seemed to have many stories to tell one another. They were barely breathing and talking and laughing as fast as possible before they had to get off and travel on to their destinations. Just in the middle of their conversation a bunch of people got off the train, and they managed to locate two seats together. One of the girls sat down but before the other could sit a man ran into the train and sat there instead. I had space next to me and the girl sat down across her friend. They managed to talk and laugh for ages, and I could hear everything even though I tried to drown out their voices so I could concentrate on the chapter I was reading, but it was impossible. They found ways to talk to one another whilst the train became increasingly full with people standing in their ways. They started to shuffle around and find spaces between people's bodies and legs and carry on their conversations. It was actually really funny to see. They were vibrant and full of energy and managed to talk non-stop until I left the train.
A few days before this, I was reading my book and this man constantly drew closer to me until I turned and saw his cheek was touching my shoulder - he was trying to read my book. When he saw me look at him and move away, he realised how close he was to me and smiled and said "I've been trying to remember the title of this book for ages." We both laughed it off and had a conversation about the book. It was so uncalculated, and that's what I like most about London. You meet the most eccentric people have the most unexpected conversation with them that makes you feel so unusually happy for the rest of the day (if it's a good conversation).
I know it can be boring and irritating, moving back and forth on a fast train with polluted air hitting your face, but with so much time spent on the same journey every day, you have to try and find little things that make the journey a little less bothersome.
A song. A very sweet song.
I find it very interesting sitting across people whom I have never seen before and hear them talk about things with their tones increasing or decreasing depending on the level of secrecy or gossip they are talking about. You hear some strange things on the tube - some very intimate secrets to some extremely bizarre and eccentric conversations. I've sat across lovers, elderly couples, friends, siblings, parents, grand parents, great grand parents and kids. Each journey I have taken has been different and I'm not trying to romanticise a 45 minutes underground journey on the less than romantic Central Line, but it's true. There are some unpleasant journeys when the tube hits peak times and you're squashed underneath someone's armpit across the cheek of an unshaven man with a suitcase that weighs a tonne on your feet whilst a woman loses balances on thin pencil heels in front of you and falls on you. But during all journeys the only thing that stays constant is my fascination with how people interact and communicate with one another.
The other day, there were two friends who seemed to have many stories to tell one another. They were barely breathing and talking and laughing as fast as possible before they had to get off and travel on to their destinations. Just in the middle of their conversation a bunch of people got off the train, and they managed to locate two seats together. One of the girls sat down but before the other could sit a man ran into the train and sat there instead. I had space next to me and the girl sat down across her friend. They managed to talk and laugh for ages, and I could hear everything even though I tried to drown out their voices so I could concentrate on the chapter I was reading, but it was impossible. They found ways to talk to one another whilst the train became increasingly full with people standing in their ways. They started to shuffle around and find spaces between people's bodies and legs and carry on their conversations. It was actually really funny to see. They were vibrant and full of energy and managed to talk non-stop until I left the train.
A few days before this, I was reading my book and this man constantly drew closer to me until I turned and saw his cheek was touching my shoulder - he was trying to read my book. When he saw me look at him and move away, he realised how close he was to me and smiled and said "I've been trying to remember the title of this book for ages." We both laughed it off and had a conversation about the book. It was so uncalculated, and that's what I like most about London. You meet the most eccentric people have the most unexpected conversation with them that makes you feel so unusually happy for the rest of the day (if it's a good conversation).
I know it can be boring and irritating, moving back and forth on a fast train with polluted air hitting your face, but with so much time spent on the same journey every day, you have to try and find little things that make the journey a little less bothersome.
A song. A very sweet song.
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