londrous

When I was in my mid-twenties I lived in London. I loved it. I even came up with a new adjective to describe it - 'londrous'. I didn't mind that my nose blew black snot or that the shopkeepers were grimsters. I remember the wise woman and I use to keep a note on the fridge where we would jot down the freaker-of-the week.  London, being such a gloriously big melting pot, meant you were all but guaranteed some sort of freaker encounter every week. The tube tended to be the nesting ground for most of them and I recall many freaker-infested journeys into work which varied from mildly amusing to downright scary. My favorite freaker was the one who came up to me late one night and said 'Dog! Back to your kennel.'
I loved the pub grub on weekends down by the Thames too: the assortment of condiments: mayonnaise, mint jelly, mustard, brown sauce, red sauce, tartar sauce. I adored the heat of the pavement in  summer when I would walk home along Hyde Park  with my shoes in my hand: the air redolent with curry and ozone. (OK London summers were a bit hit-and-miss but I do have memories of sweltering weeks .) And I loved the free galleries, the markets, riding the route master buses.
So perhaps you are wondering what has brought on this wave of nostalgia and I believe it is the fact that this weekend a bunch of laydees are getting together for a bit of a reunion in Australia. This bunch ( well the ones who could make it) were a large part of the pack I used to hang out with during those giddy London days. Actually I feel a little bit of a liar when I say that. Yes I did hang out with them but I was never a big gang gal. I couldn't deal with the idea of being best friends with everyone. Truth be told I was besotted with the wise woman ( in a purely platonic way) she was my soul mate , my best friend, my gravitational pull. The others made for nice afternoons drinking cider, talking about boys but I was never enmeshed in that group the way the others seemed to be. Which is probably why I am not feeling jealous about the reunion this weekend. I mean it would be nice to be there: to see friends: to not spend my weekend padding around Basel alone yet again but I don't feel a heart wrench.
Actually it is interesting (to me anyway) that nearly all of the members of that gang are now married with children. Some even divorced. I am one of only two anomalies. Was I an anomaly back then too?  Will I remain so ever onwards? Cliche as it is I suspect I am the least happiest of that group right now but then I could be wrong. You never know what goes on behind closed doors. I wonder what I would say to the me back then if I could meet her again now.  I think I would tell her to get matching underwear much earlier. It actually feels good. Ditto the Brazilian. I would tell her about the Sufi poet Hafiz much earlier too. I would tell her that not being a big gang girl was OK. I would tell her to not be so afraid. I would tell her she was going to have a lot of amazing travelling adventures and to be proud of what she did. I would tell her to start writing earlier ( or at least begin sharing.) I would tell her 2011-12 were going to be lousy years but to hang in there. I would tell her hearts can really break. I would tell her not give up hope.
   So I am going to end this post with a toast to all the gals who are meeting in Queensland this weekend. (Heh heh excellent excuse to drink champagne on my tod) I hope they have a beautiful time together and the memories flow as freely as the laughs....and the vino!!!

the gang-o-girls in action this weekend