Christmas in London smells like the perfumes sold in House of Fraser. It smells like sugar-coated nuts. It sounds like the chatters of the crowds that cram the streets. It sounds like the pitter-patter of the heels on the pavement. It sounds like joyful Jingle Bells played with the drums in the alley off the main road - a Jamaican flavour to it that made me give the players a deserved tip. It looks like an anthill and like a theme park. Its windows are creative, colourful and excessive at the same time: a sprout of fun.
Today, I was wearing high-heels, and it was empowering to see the city from up here. I totally felt like Carrie Bradshaw. Indeed, I also have the spicy vibe of the aunt living abroad. I'm loving this city every day that goes by a bit more.
Today, I have almost flirted with a dad, a handsome man who was running around the city with his 4-year-old son. Danger zone. I must not enter that area. Although I must say that men with kids have a charming sweetness about them. And boy, oh boy. What did I see as I arrived back home? A cute guy just living in my own estate. What a pleasant surprise!
I am not lonely. Today, I met a friend of mine and we enjoyed chatting and laughing in the streets of London. We enjoyed a cup of hot drink at Starbucks. We enjoyed just being in this city, walking around, in Christmas-lit London, wondering how it's going to look tomorrow, when the fuss will be over, the tube will not work, the buses won't run in the streets in this ever-busy metropolis. I don't quite feel lonely. Even though I'd love my family to be here and enjoy this peaceful yet lively atmosphere with me.
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