Category: On London

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Charming London – A Love Affair

I can’t tell you how far back my love affair with flowers goes but nowadays it’s torrid, so much so that I get a weekly delivery just because. And I love showering people with flowers, too, and visiting the varied gardens and parks not only around London but also throughout England.

Admittedly, I’m not much for gardening but I ‘m a keen admirer, even if I haven’t ever been to the much talked about Chelsea Flower Show, which is on now. Why? I have no idea. Up until nearly three years ago, I lived within a short walking distance of the Royal Hospital Gardens, where it is held.

And what I remember most is the excessive vehicle and pedestrian traffic on my street, causing the most exciting fanfare, mimicking an amusement of some sorts, sunshine or rain. Good thing because the rain has been torrential this week. Yesterday it hailed, at least twice.

Anyhow, this got me thinking about places that I admire in London, places that are ever so charming and varied like flowers, but aren’t necessarily on the main tourist map, though the first one is more central that the other two. Twice now, however, I have taken visitors there, who simply didn’t know it existed.

So with schools already breaking for summer in the US in particular, I thought now would be a good time to share three of these charms, which are great places to visit for holiday makers and locals alike, again sunshine or rain.

That’s par for the course here. So grab your rain hat and your sunglasses, too, and off we go:

The South Bank – Sure, I am still a newbie to the London south of the river but in less than three years, I’ve likely spent more time on the South Bank than I have in the seventeen years I have lived here. Likely to do with Waterloo Station being a main artery nowadays but whatever the reason, it continues to be a pleasure.

Though there isn’t much shopping on the South Bank, that’s the only thing that isn’t there. From favourite foods to enticing entertainment, it’s happening.  As well as its festive atmosphere, the South Bank offers stunning views of the city of London.

Richmond upon Thames – Staying south, if you will, head to this charming village. Though popular with Londoners, particularly when the weather is warm, it shows a different side of the capital to visitors. Let’s say a smaller side with cobbled streets and hidden lanes.

Plenty of shopping here, including many speciality shops, but that’s not all. For a picnic or stroll or to just catch a breathtaking view, make your way to Richmond Hill or Richmond Park and at the latter, prepare for deer spotting.

Hampstead – Head altogether north for this pretty village on a hill. Fortunately, I spent oodles of time there working with the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts a few years ago and took endless opportunities to explore the many trendy shops and restaurants.

Filled with gorgeous English mansions and pretty side streets too, Hampstead is one of London’s most characteristic, and certainly most affluent areas. But if that is not what you are looking for, never mind. Go to the Heath and chill out there, enjoying nature as its most uncultivated finest.

Charming London! What a wonderful affair. I could do this for a long time yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Charming London! What a wonderful affair. I could do this for a long time yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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No Need to Compare Bright Light to Mysterious Smoke

I don’t know about a thousand words, but this picture certainly says a few – stroppy, serious, sad yet sanguine and simply Sonja.

Wrapping up our weekend in Paris at the Musee d’Orsay was delightful, yet I stropped at Paul for taking a close-up photograph of me. I so despise head shots and then on the way home on Eurostar, getting my second fix of magazines (the first one was on the way there), I read an article about self-image and how women could sometimes be their own worst critics.

Ouch – I sat up straight and considered the charge, flipping through photos on my iPad. The closer up the photo, the more unpleasant the emotion, proving me guilty as charged.

I found it unbelievable that I, so full of self-worth, could have self-image problems. Who would have thunk it? Of course, my problems pale in comparison to serious esteem matters, which are no joke whatsoever. Still the point is all the same – poor self-esteem leads to dissatisfaction, unhappiness, unhealthy living and so on, even if it is on a small level.

And who has time to be unhealthy, unhappy and dissatisfied when in Paris or London for that matter. So with memories of The City of Lights in the near distance, I took in the blustery air of The Smoke.

On the taxi ride home, I recalled returning from Paris to London last year with my BFF, godson and one of his friends. Having gone from one elaborately stunning hotel to a sedately beautiful one, I remember thinking that the Parisian hotel got the prize. I even said it out loud and suggested that the London beaut was a bit tired, though I wouldn’t turn down a night there anytime. I love the place.

The City of Lights shines
The City of Lights shines

Suddenly, however, this Londoner felt second-class to a Parisian. Oh dear. And now speeding through Bloomsbury, I was comparing the two cities again, having been caught up in the romantic atmosphere of Paris for the weekend. I compared the Seine to the Thames, Marble Arch to Arc de Triomphe (unfair!), our bridges to theirs, museums and so on and then it struck me that I needn’t choose one over the other.

Like their respective luxury hotels, one wears its opulence on its sleeve and the other is ever so mysterious. And to be honest, I like a little mystery now and again. No wonder I can’t get enough of Hercule Poirot.

And anyhow, I haven’t seen the real the grit of Paris, albeit it is a dirtier city than London, on the surface. Still they are both impressive cities, just different—one characteristically French and the other English. Come to think of it, so are many of those headshots of mine, different that is.

But one showing is enough, at least for this outing. No need to compare, seriously!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Hazy Weekend Coming Up in London

Just as well that I wasn’t able to get out for my run this morning. Dust from the Sahara desert has blown into London, once again, sending runners and many other outside enthusiasts inside for the hottest day of the year, yet to come.

A low-grade asthma sufferer, I remember all too well being trapped inside of a gym for days in 2012. This time, as the dust blew in, I spent the morning in my car, driving across London, gazing through the haze upon buildings such as the Shard.

My pre-planned trip to Essex to see my specialist about implants, dental implants that is, okay, had robbed me of the run anyhow, thus I wasn’t as gutted as before. Still, as I glimpsed the London skyline, I thought ahead to Saturday, realising that my plans would surely go up in dust.

In the morning, I had hoped to take to the Thames Path,  but meteorologists are forecasting blood rain, a term scientist use to describe rain when it is mixed with the red dust.

That means hitting the gym or giving my run a miss. Make no mistake about it, I am not above taking to the treadmill – oh no, not I. But do so dislike it, if only for the repetitiveness of running in place. Not to mention that on a Saturday morning the gym will be packed.

Excuses! Excuses! Sounds like a hazy weekend to me.

 

 

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Expat Takes Off On Flying Holiday

Make no mistake about it I love airplanes. Without them, I would be grounded, likely in the US, instead of the UK. Let’s say I owe my expatriate experience in many ways to the airline industry. I never took to the waters, if you will.

And certainly I owe my visits to the US to see family and friends to planes, not to mention holidays abroad. And I am not the only one indebted to the industry; the tourism industry must be, too.

In 2013, the UK had more than 31 million visitors with London leading the way with 16.8 million of them, an increase of 1.3 million from 2012, when the Olympics were held here.

The rise was the highest recorded number of overseas visitors since records began in 1961.

Presumably, many of these visitors arrived via airplane, though the Eurostar, ships and coaches provide other travel options. But if you are in a hurry, flying is the fastest route. And I almost always am.

Admittedly, however, I find the preparation for flying rather tedious. I do understand it and wouldn’t have it any other way for safety. Still I long for the nonchalant preparation of throwing things in a bag or two willy-nilly and taking off.

Last weekend, Paul and I did just that, joining our English family at a Center Parcs village, sort of a vacation park, which offers short breaks year-around. How very interesting we found it.

Though marketed for families with children, Center Parcs offers something for everyone from outdoor activities such as walking and cycling to indoor sports including swimming and playing tennis and squash. Also, the facility has a spa, plenty of restaurants and a few shops. The accommodation is not bad either. 

Honestly, it’s not a holiday destination that we would take without family but with them, it measured up. I’ll take their Aqua Sana Spa over the chilly rain any day. And most importantly, there was no commotion about packing and travelling. So, I did throw in two bags after all, one for each day.

The next stop, however, calls for flying, with only one-bag to carry on. Argh! Considering that the trip is tomorrow, I’d better get sorting. Otherwise, I’ll be grounded. And I do like flying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Expat Exercises for Re-entry to Life in London

Years ago when I worked for Habitat for Humanity International, re-entry was a phrase often used of the International Partners, staff returning from a work trip abroad. It stands to reason that after being away from a country, one needs to re-adapt to the culture, etc.

An expat of nearly twenty years, I can attest to that. Casually, I often use the word re-entry when returning to the US, even sometimes stopping over for a night or two in a city of choice, before joining friends and/or family for a good down home visit.

Only on this last visit, however, somewhat made in haste, even if it did last over two weeks, I didn’t have time to think about adjusting to time zones, water, food, language and so on. I hit the ground running, literally and didn’t stop rushing around until after I returned to the UK.

It was then that I began to think of re-entry, if you will. Suddenly, my body was no longer tolerant of the few hours of sleep I got each night, the paces that I put it through daily or the inappropriate food I lived on, including honeybuns and coffee cake, most days.

This past Monday, the cinnamon brioche, the English honeybun I teased to a friend, did not cut the cake. Suddenly, I am gluten intolerant again. Furthermore, I acutely understand the value of daily exercise again – something I didn’t bother with at all in the US.

Yet this morning while exercising, even if it was challenging, I felt a freedom that I hadn’t felt it more than two weeks. That is when it occurred to me that exercise was somehow freeing. And I quietly said to my personal trainer, Judit Ressinka, that if only I could get her to the US to do at least one session with each of my sisters, I felt certain that they too could experience the freedom that I was experiencing.

Judit felt that I was on to something. Though exercise is often associated with alleviating physical stress, it also has the power to alleviate mental turmoil, too. When going through a particularly stressful time, I pointed out, we are trapped in a small world, which drives us, and keeps us on a bumpy road.

Exercise, Judit agreed, makes for a smoother ride, if you will. It has a way of getting the blood and oxygen flowing, properly and harmoniously.

Of course, one session won’t cut the cake, any more than my cinnamon brioche did, but a consistent programme will make a big difference in how the body endures.

Even I am truant from time to time like the two weeks in the US, no doubt the rigorous programme of training once per week with Judit and running three times, sees me through arduous times.

Now back to re-entry. What’s for supper?

 

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A Quick 999 To Detox the Mind

Still early into the New Year, there is still much talk about detoxing the body, with very little said about ridding the mind of toxins, though I read a brilliant piece on the subject a week or so ago.

In the meantime, I got on with life, if you will, coping with day to day stresses of living in a major city—transportation strikes, road works, crowds all over the place, temperamental weather and so on–and took on some of the tips, until one afternoon after dealing with an intense family matter, I found myself in a toxic state that had risen overnight, seemingly.

It was more than a black cloud hanging over my head; it had shrouded me.

Anyhow, certainly, the situation hadn’t risen overnight. Such situations, if you will, rarely do. But with my head pounding intensely, I somehow knew that a painkiller would not do the trick, nor would the usual nap. The night before, I hadn’t slept much at all, for over thinking.

It was too late to refrain from caffeine, as in the lovely piece mentioned above, and with a major dental surgery coming up the next day, I needed a panacea and I needed it fast, so here is what I did:

1) Wrote it all down, sort of a dump, if you will, but I kept trying to edit and censor my thoughts. 

2) Thus, I called a trusted friend who would tell me the truth and not necessarily what I wanted to hear.  Note it wasn’t a rant or a finger pointing phone call but a call for a fresh perspective, even if I didn’t agree with it.

Though I felt better for the call, I couldn’t stop my mind from nattering and my head from hurting, so here is the biggie: 

3) I decided to shut off my computer, my Ipad, the mobile data on my phone and avoid the Internet for 24-hours. Making this decision brought a kind of sweeping relief!

Having done without all of my devices during a three-day retreat last year, I knew the benefits of letting them go.

4) I climbed into bed in the middle of the day, against the advice of many experts, and tried to settle my mind for a sleep. Of course, the nattering and needling refuse to subside.

5) So here is where my imagination came in to replace the chatter. First I counted backwards from 10 to 1. I have no idea why but it worked to focus the mind. After I got through this for a number of times, I allowed myself to think constructively about the matter. Which bits had solvable, practical solutions? I flagged them and committed to working on them later.

6) The rest, I let it go, if you will. That wasn’t easy I might add, as like many people, I subconsciously try to control the outcome of dilemmas. But the sooner I realised in the heat of the moment that being controlling was futile in this instance, and in most, the sooner I drifted off to sleep. 

That night, I continued with the moratorium on the Internet and after a few breathing exercising, I went off to sleep for a good night’s rest.

The next morning, I woke up ready for the surgery and as we drove through the financial district of London, aka the City, I quietly admired it. There, mind detoxed. But make no mistake about it; a short-term detox such as this acted more like a plaster than it did anything else.

It was not the panacea I had hoped for but let’s face it any body part can use a band-aid when bruised. The mind is no exception.

 

 

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Poppies Appeal to Millions at Tower of London

Today, November 11 marks Armistice Day here in the UK and Veterans Day in the US. Both holidays, if you will, honour those who have lost their lives in the many battles fought over the years and celebrate the retired and present service men and women who represent both countries.

Here in London, thousands gather at the Tower of London to admire the sea of poppies on exhibition in the moat. Constructed to commemorate the centenary of the outbreak of World War I, the installation began on 5 August and will be finalise today with the last ceramic poppy planted at 10.52, totalling 888, 246 poppies altogether.

Though the extraordinary exhibition, created by Paul Cummings and staged by Tom Piper, will be dismantled starting tomorrow, more than 4 million visitors from around the world are projected to have seen it when it is all said and done. Fortunately, Paul and I are amongst them.

Last Friday, after seeing Speed the Plow with Lindsay Lohan, (alright if you ask me but not great) we caught a taxi to the Tower and joined hundreds of other late night viewers, to enjoy the exhibition under floodlights.

So popular during its final weeks, the Mayor lobbied to extend it to no avail, but instead the organisers agreed to keep it illuminated at night. Though I had suggested we go early Saturday morning, Paul thought it would be wise to make the trek at night.

It was well worth it—the poppy exhibition, that is. For Londoners who haven’t seen it and are willing to brave the crowds, I can highly recommend. As for the play, I wouldn’t bother. But the extraordinary poppy display is hauntingly moving, even if under giant spotlights.

In the meantime, let us celebrate and honour our men and women of service on both sides of the pond, on this special day, and always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Seeing what’s in the Timing

As a local, I often look at what meets the eye, nothing more.  And now and again, I don’t even do that. I scan areas and attractions, rather fleetingly. But recently in keeping with the running with sense theme, I thought I’d pay more attention to my surroundings and how wonderful it was to discover new characteristics of the Thames Path.

But surprisingly, I found it hard to focus without interruption from my other senses, so instead of banging out a blog after one running session, I gave it three. Not to mention the backlog of work for my new website and latest book, The Seasons, both coming soon! Watch this space.

Anyhow, the most distracting of all of the senses was hearing. Having ditched the iPhone to listen up sensibly, all I could seemingly do was hear the sounds of helicopters, airplanes, buses, cars, even people humming away.  To this end, I shut my eyes briefly, thinking I could block them out, but only made the sounds louder and also nearly lost my balance. Thankfully, I recovered quickly, even if I was dizzy.

Thus on the second morning, I stayed wide-eyed, no matter what, and lo and behold I made an interesting discovery. It was all in the timing.

By 8 o’clock London is pretty much wide awake and in this state, the city is noisy, but still sleepy in the earlier hours, London is serene and far more noticeable by sight, at least the distance I run on the Thames Path whether towards Putney or Battersea.

While the sky, even in its greyness, seems calm, so does the river, even if it is rushing and swirling. Meanwhile a single bird flies low and speculates, too. And cyclists, runners and walkers move easily.

The commuters seem more polite to one another, mimicking you first, I insist while approaching the river bus, the bus, the train

And the beautiful luxury houseboats on The Thames look picture perfect, too. Even the skyscrapers in the distance look inviting and not steely as they can in the midst of the day.

This morning, I noticed a cat scampering about in silence. Imagine! Also, I saw a dog or two prancing and smiled to myself, understanding the phrase puppy dog eyes. And then tick tock went the clock and cyclists came tearing down the path, tooting their horns, and mothers and fathers scrambled to keep up with their scooting children, and runners tried to stay out of the way, me included.

Finally at the finish line, I stopped to stretch and take in the fresh air and realised that I was distracted, already getting ahead to feeling. Thus, I fixed my eyes on the river. Captivated by its life, the water looking like silk flesh as it ebbed and flowed, a lone duck riding it, I couldn’t help grunting when I felt a pain in my leg. Thrown out of the scenery, yet again, I gave in to feeling. That’s next week’s assignment. Stay tuned.

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The Fresh Feeling of Autumn in London

Though I have been back from holiday in The Algarve, Portugal for more than a week now, I’m only beginning to feel grounded. What a lovely holiday. Do check out the pictures below:

Anyhow, with a busy schedule including working on the design of my upcoming book,The Seasons, which will be out in late October, and preparing for the launch of a new website to coincide with it, I have hardly had time to notice London, even it is as busy as ever.

I have been moving about rather purposefully, only doing the essentials—training, going to the hair salon, and shopping for groceries. And what a task the latter has been since discovering that I have more food intolerances that I can stomach. But that’s another story.

On top of all this, I lost my favourite aunt last weekend and continue to struggle with mourning from afar.  See my January 2011 blog on this very topic. Admittedly, I felt better re-reading it.

Still, I felt foggy and a bit out of sorts until yesterday.  Then I noticed something different in the atmosphere, something novel and perhaps light.

No longer was the heaviness of summer hanging over me as I made my way to the nearby park during my morning run, though I hadn’t run in a few days. And later that morning on a jaunt to Knightsbridge and Sloane Square, I felt a similar vigour.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that though not official according to astronomers, autumn has come to London. Even if day and night are not of equal length, I’m certain it is here, even if there are only a few berry coloured trees to behold and two or three rust coloured leaves around.

As autumn has always been my favourite seasons, I have long concluded that its arrival is not necessarily in the landscape, but in the air.  It’s an atmosphere, a feeling. And in London, this atmosphere takes off the intense edge.

What a sigh of relief to notice that:

1)   People here seem to approach autumn almost as if it is a New Year.  From launching new restaurants to opening flagship stores, merchants keep the capital fresh and relevant. Yesterday, I popped into the new Club Monaco store in Sloane Square. Not bad, not bad!

2)  The buzz around the new term – be it the school term, the work term, the ‘explore or improve your life’ course term – adds to the novelty. In any case it is all about new beginnings. No need to wait for January to set off to a crisp start.

3)  Londoners and tourists alike are friendlier. While I have always been one of those people with an ‘ask me’ stamp on my forehead, it seems to glow in the daylight in autumn.  Where is Sloane Street? Am I on the right road to Harrods? Is Parliament Square this way? Just a few of the questions I was asked recently. So glad I could help.

4)  More walkers and runners are taking to the paths. The pleasant weather is just right for walking and running and cycling, too. Never mind the occasional dark cloud and threat of rain.  It’s London, after all.

5)  People continue to sit outside, if only for a spell. In summer everyone goes out in droves for fear they won’t get the opportunity to do so the next day. But autumn days linger, making us all a bit more relaxed.

6)  It doesn’t hurt that there are few, if any gnats or midges to reckon with, although I did notice a bee kicking up a buzz among the crowds in Fulham over the weekend.

7)  And lo and behold drivers are far more courteous than they were in the summer. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the congestion can be taxing. But we are all in it together. Seriously!

Though I’m looking forward to those traditional days when the leaves will colour the landscape, for now I’m taking in the fresh atmosphere of autumn in the capital and basking in it. It’s in the air.

IMG_1399  IMG_1401 (1)

 

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Take Seven: Running to Switch Off…

Running time is meant to be time for me, myself and I to escape the stresses of family life, work etc. That means no writing, except for when I am running to jumpstart writing. For the most part, however, I run to switch off – not an easy feat for an author, particularly one on deadline.

Thank goodness nowadays I am not on a major writing deadline. Though I have a new book coming in October, the writing of it has long passed. The editorial process is upon me. Yet while running one morning recently, truly believing that I was in the escape zone, I found myself writing figuratively, at least coming up with story lines or bits that would be useful to scenes, chapters, etc. at some point.

When I realised what I was doing, I couldn’t help laugh to myself and in doing so I decided to capture the moment. Why not make the most of it, share top story ideas I happened upon while running. Take seven:

  1. A trail of fresh blood leading from the walls of the Embankment to the pavement, which disappears into the earth suddenly. While I am no sleuth, that has to be one worth investigating.
  2. Three buxom men, dressed in black, wearing earpieces as they pace up and down a certain part of the Thames Path. They don’t look fighting fit like undercover agents to be honest, so just who the heck are they?
  3. The man dressed in a crumpled suit, grasping a beer bottle as he wandered to the edge of the river. At one point I expected him to walk right in, but he stopped suddenly and stared unblinkingly at the ground. Then he found a piece of wood and dropped down on it. What is or was his story?
  4. The yappy dog that longs to have a round with the Great Dane, who ignores him rather intuitively it seems. Does he understand that he is cruising for a bruising?
  5. The boot camp female runner who wears black gear and a massive backpack, as she tears along the boardwalk. All she needs is a splash of camouflage underneath her eyes to get fully into character. Everything else about her already says Private Benjamin.
  6. The barefooted runner who jogs up and down the boardwalk on the coldest of days, despite the worry of shattered glass, nails, whatever, and on some days he runs along the road. Most recently, I saw him hotfoot it in the rain. What is that about?
  7. The middle aged Englishman who practices Tai Chi rather clumsily but happily. You have to admire the guy.

 

Actually, I appreciate them all, even if they do distract me, with exception of the blood. That worries me. Never mind! Who needs to switch off anyhow? Not this writer. Time to switch on and deal with these edits – The Seasons, coming October 2014.