I’m in London at short notice. It is early, cold and wet. I forget how to top up my Oyster card and stand in front of a ticket machine looking like a foreigner. Some one asks if I need help.
On the Tube, a yoof with iPod-stuffed ears sniffs loudly and repeatedly. Those sitting around him exchange irritated glances and roll their eyes. He doesn’t care, he can’t hear himself.
I arrive at Putney Bridge at 7am and need to buy a pen and an umbrella. The man in the newsagent is so friendly. Next door is a retro greasy spoon café. I order a cup of builders’ tea and the man serving asks where I’ve just flown in from. I am glad to talk. I want to hug him and shout, I’m back! I sit at a Formica topped table with ketchup, brown sauce and vinegar for company. There are others breakfasting and reading the papers: the PAPERS! They shout greetings across the café, discuss the weather and laugh. It’s London and I LOVE it.
I stay with my Lovely Neighbour. Awaking jetlaggedly early on Saturday morning I hear the dawn chorus. I pull up the blind and look across the street at my own house. Its curtains are drawn and it is strange to be on the outside. Putney Common does its best to persuade me we should return: the candles on the horse chestnuts are in bloom, magnolia, cherry blossom, hawthorn all in their Sunday best. And the sun shines and shines all weekend bringing people out to play ball games, sit on picnic rugs. I bump into friends, drop in for tea, am greeted like the prodigal daughter. We’re coming home, I say. They gasp in disbelief.
I am looking at houses. Our tenants have hinted they would like to buy our place. I am here to grovel at the door of my children’s former schools. I take the bus to Oxford and see my mum. She is delighted at the news but tries hard to stop the corners of her mouth from twitching as I tell her in earnest tones that we are victims of the Credit Crunch.
On Sunday evening I get an email from the Head of the big boys’ school saying they will be able to take up their former places in September. I weep for joy. My dream of returning to my former life is about to come true. Back in Hong Kong, in just three hours my eldest son is due to start a new school. His third school in a year. I can hardly wait to give him the good news.
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4 comments:
Not all bad, then.
Did I tell you (surely I must have done?) that way back I lived in Felsham Road, so Putney Common was very much my stomping ground. I used to love this time of year - all the blossom in the front gardens, and the window boxes, and the sheer greenness of it all.
Good news about the schools.
You chose a good week to come back - spring has sprung.
Glad to hear the schools are sorted, that is one weight off your mind.
So how long is it till you come back?
Great that chatting while you buy something. I've so grown out of the habit, that while in Australia I was flumoxed when the cashier asked me and the kids how were were doing and carried on chatting to us!!
I guess if we spoke some Cantones we could do the same here.
So are you already adjusting to the idea & pleased? I've just got back from the UK, hence my silence, & it is truly beautiful at the moment.
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