Londonward

This morning, I bought a breakfast sandwich from a little Italian shop near Red Lion Square. It was obviously a family affair, with lookalike father and son putting together sandwiches behind a massive glass display of various panini, ciabattas an fillings. They greeted each of their established customers by name, exchanging pleasantries along with the money. Sure, when my turn came the mozzarella and tomato sandwich was on white bread which I’m not too keen on, but the guy slapped on fresh basil and extra virgin olive oil which made it really, really nice. I was sent on my way with friendly well-wishes which seemed genuine.

I also had my first haircut at an actual shop in London. I’d managed to avoid it until now due to having a contact who’d do it semi-regularly for free, but having a shaggy mop eventually just got the better of me and I marched into the hairdressers nudged into the corner of the LSE campus. I’m somehow self-conscious of haircuts, but this one ended up not being a disaster… At least comments so far have been positive-or-neutral or “oh, you had a hair-cut”.

Should I have tipped? Probably. Oops. Well, I’m burning a hole in my finances already, so I’ll let it slide this once.

Nothing more dramatic than the inevitable end of summer intended. I mean, I knew it was coming, and not only by the inevitable turning of the month to September. This morning cool air had crept into my room and had stirred my mind into dreams of cold places. I woke up refreshed, with the tip of my nose distinctly cold. It didn’t feel too different from yesterday, but there was still something different in the air.

A wisp of melancholy… maybe a touch of dread. My final year at University starts in like three weeks. Well, teaching starts in a month but there are things to do before then. I’ve got fun stuff planned for the autumn as well, but somehow schoolwork looms over everything really menacingly.

This summer has gone really quickly. On the one hand my trip to Norway feels like it was ages ago, and the sun tan is already fading. Equally it feels like I haven’t done that much over the summer. Thing is, I’m unable to specify what more I should have done (or to what end). Travel more, I suppose. Go to Finland for a longer time, maybe.

But what’s done is done, and what wasn’t won’t be. There’s heavy rain on the way, and temperatures are on their way down. Pens, folders and note paper need buying. Library fines need paying and motivation needs finding.

Reunions start tomorrow.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been to some really seedy rock bars with sticky floors and ramshackle wall decorations or just my general mood, but London has felt like it was basking in that supposed day that was never shown, only hinted at, in The Crow. There’s been a strange hazy smoke hanging in the air, making anything further than just across the street slightly out of focus. My day was slow and unhurried, only picking up in the evening once the surprising heat had died down a little. I saw one of the sides of multifaceted London that I rarely see, and it was pretty cool. I felt a bit of a connection to this city and the multitudes of different kinds of people that inhabit it, in a way more than ever before. I can’t say I felt at home, but I did feel I could come to grips with some of it.

I’m also fully aware that whatever I’ve written above probably makes absolutely no sense. Doesn’t matter.

Seeing how aghast I was when I heard that a guy I met (to pick up a key for a friend of mine) had been at work until 2:30am on Friday night he just looked at me frankly and said “that’s how it is in this line of business”.

I was coming down off an absolutely epic bank holiday weekend full of food, friends, music, shouting and not very much sleep and must have looked an absolute state. To be honest, right now I feel his line of business (investment banking) dehumanises their young recruits while enticing them with the prospect of good money. But what good is money if you’re only spending it on fast food delivered to the office or, worse, coke to get you through the night? While I dread looking through my receipts for the weekend, I didn’t spend extraordinary amounts of money - I got enjoyment from having a pint with friends, singing along to silly songs and sitting down for an 8-person Sunday lunch that stretched into a wine-fuelled afternoon lounging on a rooftop. You know what I mean. I don’t think I’d trade it for the world even though I was a little tired this afternoon at work. I’d rather have it that way - that my free time makes its presence known in my work rather than the opposite.

But then again, maybe earning a whole lot somehow compensates for 16-hour work days. I wouldn’t know, as I haven’t had the chance to try.