7173/19693
Back into London again tonight, for a birthday party. Life seems to be returning to normal (for now) and it was fun to witness little snatches of the evenings of strangers as I made my way to the pub. The train to London was thronging with women of a certain age, all seemingly drinking cans of gin and tonic or other cocktails. I thought they might know each other and it was a hen night until I saw how many of them there were. They got off at Hatfield and I gleaned that they were going to see Michael Buble at Hatfield House. They were so up for a night out that there happiness was infectious.
Once they’d gone I got a double seat and a table to myself (it was quite a surprise to be on an old fashioned train with tables, so I made the most of it). A mother with a screaming baby got on at the next stop and the whole family sat around me. The baby was maybe a year old and nothing could comfort her. She cried all the way to Kings Cross. I tried to pull faces at her, but even that didn’t work. I didn’t mind the noise. I found it quite funny. It reminded me of that stressful time, but it’s a joyous time. After you’ve had kids you’d have to be a dick to be the person on public transport who is upset with the sound of kids. Also once you’ve been a kid, ideally.
Everything was making me happy, even the sad bits. As I came down the escalator at Kings Cross I saw a couple coming up the other way and the woman was in tears. It looked like over emotion from afternoon drinking or a lovers’ tiff, so even her tear-stained face made me wryly happy as I remembered my own disastrous dates involving public displays of emotion. She’d be OK.
In Covent Garden all was hustle and bustle, and a woman exiting a bar raucously sang “Waterloo!” And then knowing none of the other words joyously continued “something, something something something”. I laughed out loud at that. On the Strand there were a couple of very happy looking homeless guys, having a bit of badinage with each other. They looked like good pals and one of them was carrying some cardboard tied together with string. The other said “I’ll swap you a beer for a piece of cardboard.” The other said “You’ve got loads of cardboard.” “I always need more,” said the man with the beer. It was sort of bleak, but all so good natured that it still felt like a positive human interaction. Though I did think of all the cardboard that I just threw away and how different things mean different things to different people.
Somehow all of these things had an element of joy to them, but may I just felt happy to be out in the evening sun and doing something sociable.
The party was great too. Lots of nice people, some of whom I hadn’t seen for many years. Life isn’t so bad. You know, apart from all the bad bits.
