Onward!!

In London, the clouds hang low, as a near-continuous ash-and-white blanket. There is a subdued feeling about the place, and people seem to slide along listlessly. Couples walk along the street in silence. I don’t know if it’s my tiredness and jetlag or what, but it feels strange being here. There is little of the vibrance and exuberance I got so used to in the last fortnight. Both physically and otherwise, compared to the past ten days, it’s cold.

(I’ll try and slot in posts about the details of my trip since the last update when I get the chance and a slightly clearer mind. If you follow my RSS, you should get them as soon as they are posted.)

I gave my French oral presentation last night, marking the effective completion of that course. The United Kingdom has a new government, a historic one, being the first coalition since the Second World War. Spring is well and truly here, though it’s still far too cold for my tastes. Tonight I sat for a bit in the garden at the back of our house after coming home from work, enjoying the lingering sunlight. I can’t wait for real barbecue weather.

British TV and the press are full of the political news and not much else. No matter what your personal political views are, one can’t help getting swept up in the speculation and even excitement of this new government. No doubt there will be much blaming of the situation left by the previous administration, but both the population and the markets will want specific and effective measures, not just soundbites about how times are tough.

Perhaps the biggest sign of being grown up is not only thinking you understand the machinations of politics (with the associated things like the economy) but you enjoy following them too.

Really, if I think about it, it’s hard to place when this became normal. I’m on a train speeding from one European capital to another, which also happens to be my home at the present time. I know people in both cities, and have places I frequent in both. I speak enough of both languages to get by and understand nuances in humour, which is in considerable supply in the circles I hang out in. 

Sometimes, it feels like someone else’s life I’m living.

Incidentally, today marks four years to the day of me writing here. No, I didn’t mean the above as referring to the day, but I suppose it fits.

Walking home from the tube station after a raucous gig at The Comedy Store, past the family herding two kids to stay on the path and not stray onto the grass, past the shutting takeaway shop, through the quiet street with a fox running in between two houses, I realise I know this smell. It’s heady, and sweet, and tender.

It smells like summer.

The air is slightly chill along my arms and cheeks as I pound the pavement, rounding more corners. But it’s pleasant, invigorating, fresh.

I’ll be back in Finland in two months. No doubt it’ll feel similar then, like those nights as a kid I’d end up leaving a friend’s place way too late into the night, when the sun was far beyond the tree-covered horizon and casting only a faint Midnight glow. I’d bike along deserted streets, looking up at the pine and spruce trees standing quietly, unwaveringly, black against the dark-blue sky above. The smell of lilacs and kicked-up gravel dust, and the tender new leaves exhaling.

A year ago, almost to the day, I arrived at this house, dropping my luggage in an empty square-shaped room that fit a double bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. Feeling a bit confused, I unpacked my things and thought I’d get used to it all. I remember the smell of that room, slightly dusty and warmed up by the central heating going on full blast, driving away the February chill.

It smelled exactly the same just now, when I grabbed the last pile of things and carried them out. It looked the same, too, when I put up the long red curtains that were there when I moved in. I’m only moving upstairs to the room vacated by a couple who are leaving, but it feels quite momentous. The dynamic in the house may very well change, considering the leaving flatmates were giant, affable personalities. They’ve taken quite a bit of things with them, which of course they are entitled to, but it too has contributed to a feeling of change in the house.

The mattress topper I have is slightly too big for the bed, and most of my things are spread across the floor. That reflects a bit of how I feel, too – a little uncomfortable and scattered. It remains to make this room, gutted to the bare minimum, feel like home. I guess I’ll have to spend money for that to happen, though I wouldn’t want to spend too much considering I never know where and when I’ll be moving next and moving with lots of stuff is a pain. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want to spend money on throwawayism in the form of a load of flat-packed fibreboard furniture which you can’t really transport once assembled.

I’ll have to do the same thing I did a year ago and try it out. It’ll settle, as will I. It’s just made me think of how I have no clue where I’ll be in a year’s time from now.