i am loving london at night. it's a heady mix of ancient and modern europe. rows of victorian and edwardian buildings, big grassy parks and silent black statues glow dimly against the city's hushed yellow lights, like secrets from a remembered past. there is a sense of quiet ownership that can be felt as londoners walk their streets. roads are congested like any other cosmopolitan area, however with black hackney carriages that reflect the city's endless tribute to tradition. the pubs live on and music is given a huge venue to showcase true artistic freedom with an audience to match. the next big thing is born here. indie rock bands and folk singers perform in basements with the same underlying confidence that is reflected in brilliant song writing. while the stages in broadway have gone bigger and flashier, london has chosen to keep its small and cramped theatres, some dating at least a hundred years old. even neon signs don't seem too glaring against brick masonry walls. it is a delicate balance not every place with as much history can easily achieve. as i witness this nocturnal flow of life, i get the message that london isn't for everyone. you don't choose the city, it chooses you. on the surface it's clearly not a place that an island girl like myself would choose to live in. yet i find myself drawn to its mystery. to the grayness punctuated with short episodes of sunshine, to its dry humour, its lack of outstanding local cuisine and wealth of international dining places, and to the percentage of the population that can do smart and funny as only the british can. and for a moment, i find myself wondering, considering maybe i can live here, even for a little while.
then the wind starts to get ice-cold and it snaps me out of my reverie. blimey, it's that irresistible british accent that's to blame for all this daydreaming.
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Now playing: The Beatles - Strawberry Fields Forever
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