london town in december

an interesting time for heading into london is early morning early week. only then will the roaring beast reveal a side of itself standing in sweet contrast to the stag and hen parties who bulldoze her midnight hours.

park lane is a fun stretch of road for entering the heart of the town…even when you’re not majorly rich,it’s easy to imagine yourself flushed with cash as you sail on by. one of my favourite things is to wave like the queen of england from the passenger seat to other drivers…i do that little rolling wave that her majesty does,and when others, to my delight wave back, i nearly have a wee wee…and that’s the thing about london…folk who don’t live there say it’s a hard cold place,but i find londoners warm and forthright..they have to be. there’s no way you could survive there without manners. perhaps on the underground trains folk zone out like the living dead,but that to me seems a civilised act,given the claustrophobic nature of those carriages.

so anywayyyyyyyyy….we’re sailing down park lane past the hilton where i loudly exclaim to thomas how cool it would be to hang out at the bar on the top floor, so driving home,he pulls in, and up we go….dear reader..the high panoramic view is ace,but what was even more fun was how our revery got gatecrashed by two old ladies who were just on their way home from visiting prisoners..y’know..lifers..murderers..in their words “really bad people” their whole thing was how everyone is nourished by compassion…they talked of how one day many of these men and wimmin would walk free,and if they garner some sense of self worth while banged up,then chances of them derailing anything once returned to the world, are in better check..and i agree.

what’s also interesting about that little anecdote was these two old ladies/sisters,were very very working class…sarf londoners,yet we weren’t sitting in a cafe eating chip butties…we were on the 28th floor of the buggery park lane hilton…so maybe london doesn’t give a flying fuck about class after all..as long as you pay your bill and you’re not acting like a bellend,it’ll gladly bring biscuits to your table…here’s the view down on to hyde park corner from where we drank our alcohol.

a similar thought occurred to me earlier on in the day….we were walking round mayfair and st james,when we happened upon turnbull & asser….do you know turnbull & asser?… it’s this old school shirt fitter on jermyn street…everyone from winston churchill to stephen fry gets their shirts made in there…it’s a tradition for them to make the shirts and ties for james bond. you’d think it would be real stuffy, yet i so wanted to go in for a nosey…it definitely has a very civilised atmosphere,but it’s got a big heart too…the shop assistants sensed my genuine wonder and would’ve weighed me up in a second as someone who wasn’t going to be spending lolly on that day,yet still they gave me and thomas the most warm and informative education on their history…we must have chinwagged with those shirt fitters for a good half hour…once again london felt not the least bit hung up on class.

there’s all these galleries round albermarle street by the ritz hotel…these joints aren’t exhibitions…they’re there selling the gear…miro…picasso…whatever…so we mince our way inside…evesdropping on our conversation, they can tell we’re not potential customers,yet once again,they’re sweet and chewy as toffee,regardless of their posh plummy voices..i adored this painting…i’d fantasise about owning this…i’d throw out the telly and look at this for a lifetime.

dear reader…i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it…me is in a fairly good mood. it’d be camp if it holds, cause this is a tricky time of year isn’t it…the past…the future…money…the kindness..the emptiness…the kindness…

much love … always… sweary mary of the wilderness.