Fitzrovia and the British Museum

Calum and I had a day out in the city today, doing a little shopping and seeing a few sights.  The weather here has been great for the last month or so, but today was a special treat: t-shirts with flip-flops and dresses without jackets.  I love a good sunny day.  

We ate at Princi in SoHo, one of the best pizza places I've ever been too (doesn't hurt that they stock Aesop products in the restroom.  Best day ever).  

We walked through Fitzrovia into Bedford Square to get to the British Museum.  What a delightful part of the city...

Chalk Chess with pieces made from painted water-filled plastic bottles?  Love.

Steven met us in Holland Park for a coffee and a little stroll…

I hope you had a sunny, sweet weekend.

Sutherland and Horniman

After a much-needed 12-hour sleep on Saturday night, I was feeling moderately better (remember the I-think-I-have-the-flu from Saturday at the picnic?) and opted to go with Steven to the city to meet up with friends for a rare phenomenon: Drinks on the Patio When the Sun is Out and it's Not Quite Warm Enough to Take Your Jacket Off, But Certainly Warm Enough for Sunglasses (because here, the need for sunglasses is perpetuated not by sunshine, but rather by temperature, thus you would never find any self-respecting Londoner wearing sunglasses in December.  Ever.)

I opted for a selfie, above, and caught a few snaps of Steven in front of the HMS Sutherland, one of the ships of his past, one of the loves of his life ;)

Sun sets over this river, over these bridges, and the whole place comes alive.  

It's truly magical.

We finished up the night at this place, warm under the lamps, happy to be along the river, happy to be in each other's company.  

London, you really do come love it when the sun shines on you.  

You beauty, you.

Loaded

I had an absolutely manic day today that consisted of marking on the train on the way in (pre-seven am), moving furniture around my room for lessons, having an impromptu meeting with the headmaster, starting an exam in the hall, teaching, observing two lessons, interviewing, meeting with bosses, and fielding the regular questions that come at the end of just about every day.  I've been in my bed, totally horizontal since about 7:40 this evening.  It's rewarding, and I'm grateful for that being the predominant feeling.  It was overwhelming, but only from the standpoint that my classroom/office now looks like a paper hurricane breezed through it midday, and cleaning that up will take some doing.  Alas, tomorrow is Friday, which always puts everyone in a better mood, despite the fact that we work on Saturdays, cramming in a little extra revision before exams.  And Sunday is Mother's Day: how delightful for you all :)

For now, I'll sleep.  

I'm vowing to write a blog post on the latest book I finished called The Joy of Living.  It was a great how-to guide about meditation, as well as a manual on the brain: how it works and what each developed layer of the brain makes us more and more complex individuals (when compared to, say, a kumquat or an amphibian).  Further, it talks about Buddhist's philosophies about our own personal journey and how to be kinder to everyone around us.  It was fascinating; a real difficult read; one I'm not keen to return to the library (hence it's already being about a week late).  I'm still working on it, however, and now is simply not the time.  

I hope your day was fantastic.

(Erin, loved your comment on the last post.  

Thanks for still reading and always taking the time xxx)

Birthday Picnics

It was Kat's birthday about a month ago, but we've only now got around to celebrating.  After Saturday school, I took a train, had a wander around some places in Covent Garden, then traipsed from one end of St James' Park to the other end of Green Park to meet these lovely ladies with a picnic.  Gosh, there is pretty much nothing in this city as sweet as the sunshine on your face (back, it doesn't matter where it shines), while you eat some snacks and drink something bubbly.  Throw in some good company and even if you are feeling rather flush (what is wrong with me lately?), the day is sweet, sweet, sweet.

Now let's try that picture again...

That's better.  

Happy birthday my dear friend.

ha ha Jean xx

An Unapologetic Life

I long to live a life free from apology. 

I feel it's been ingrained in me for as long as I can remember to be apologetic about just about everything.  Steven maintains it's a Canadian thing; my mother would probably argue it's a female thing; but then my father is a titch sorry at times too (found this great idiom website that supports what my spellcheck rejected), so I'm pretty sure that a) I come by this honestly but b) that it's been unchanged and unchanging for most of my life, thus, c) it will be a difficult task to change it now.  Difficult but not impossible.

Let me explain a bit…

I was running last weekend (this is an overly long paragraph to get to, perhaps, is a poignant issue for me.  Forgive the run-on [pun not intended]) feeling the fairly hot sun on my exposed shoulders (the ecstasy of it!), but feeling very warm in my legs.  I'd worn my favourite Lululemon running tights: the ones that are perfect for chilly Burlington winters, but not so perfect on springtime-in-Purley days.  I could have worn my far-too-short-for-running-at-this-time-of-year shorts (also Lululemon…they make me run faster, I swear), but in reality, I should have worn my capri running pants.  But then they flare a bit at the knee and wouldn't it be nice to have a tight pair of running pants that cutoff at the knee?  Oh but I don't need those, surely.  I have a surplus of clothing, a magnitude of apparel for all things to do with hitting pavement, and I certainly don't need anything in addition to what I have.  

I was sorry for even thinking it.

Then I started to think about just why I felt so sorry.  And sorry to whom?  I began to think about the very idea of being sorry and when did this apologetic nature take me over.  

People who may know me, or those who used to know me, might not wholeheartedly agree with this notion that I am sorry all the time.  In fact, I've been known to be a bit b*tchy in expressing my views, failing to hide true feelings, and blurting first, thinking second….third…whatever.  That aside, I still feel sorry.  I feel sorry even in thought to myself!, never mind how I feel when I interact with others.  I replay conversations in my head, I re-say what I could have, should have said in place of what I actually said.  I brush it off only to revisit it over and over again.  I make faces at what I thought, what I did, what I failed to do.  I cringe at decisions I've made, ways I've gone about executing decisions, feelings I've inevitably hurt along the way.  And over and over again, the underlying theme here is that I'm sorry.  

I apologise for just about everything, even if it's never said aloud, trust me, I'm feeling an, "I'm really sorry" on the tip of my tongue.  I'm sorry I live here (and not there), I'm sorry you're alone during the holidays, I'm sorry I can't see so-and-so grow up, sorry I can't have one last holiday with so-and-so before they such-and-such, sorry we don't have more conversations that flow like they used to, sorry I feel the way I do, sorry I react the way I do, sorry I don't support enough, sorry I am overbearing, sorry I want things just so.  

But then there's the flip side: I'm thrilled that I live here.  I'm excited that you get to start anew.  I'm accepting of the fact that growing up means at times growing apart, but what an amazing milestone to pass on to the next generation.  I'm so thankful for the time I've already had and not sorry at all that my taking the next steps in my own life means that I can't be in two places at once, can't put all my eggs in one basket, can't spend frivolously on flights home.  I am renewed and filled with love when we do talk: no time has passed, no changes have been made, and yet all the changes, all the time…it makes us who we are.  And that's wicked.   I'm completely happy with decisions I've made thus far, of the people I've met, of the people I've loved, of the people I've lost, of the people who have hurt me, and of the people I get to spend time with now, later, sometime.  

Maybe it's time for me to live a life for which I will not apologise. I act in a purposeful way: a way that serves me, serves the life I want to lead, serves the future for which I am planning.  Am I not the expert then in making choices that will lead to the most fruitful outcomes in terms of those things?  I think it's time to invest a little more faith in my ability to invest wisely in my own future so to ensure profitable dividends.

I will forever be indebted to those who trampled on me, to My Past Self for allowing that to happen, and to My Present Self for recognising those qualities in others and steering clear…very clear.  And I'm not sorry for having met them, having known them, having loved them, and having lost them.  Because all of those interactions  those situations, those losses are what make us who we are today.  And maybe one day, sooner rather than later, I won't be sorry for every little thing that I do, don't do, say, don't say, forget, misplace, and think.  I'm working on it.

   

Tough Mudder

I'd love to say that for the second year in a row, I actually completed Tough Mudder, but yet again, I was a spectator only.  Still, it was a pretty great event, equipped with a zoom lens, it made capturing the feel of the day all the more rewarding…

Some creatures worked a little less hard last Sunday...

Great day in the sunshine ;)