My Place...
I imagine that if you look up the definition of bank holiday in the dictionary there will be an A) and a B)...these being 'it must rain' and 'James Bond.' In that order. (There is always one on at some point!) And so here i am on this early Sunday morning (Coldplay'Til Kingdom Come' on repeat. My guilty pleasure!) listening to the rain hit hard against my window (Now all i need is a bit of Sean Connery on the box!) Which is funnily enough one my most favourite sounds! In the days leading up to leaving London. Memories of an empty room. Joy Division playing. Rain hammering down. A childhood love that has grown with me over the years.
I try not to miss much these days. To miss things can mean regret? Wrong decisions? So instead i like to think that something done is another encounter conquered. Over! Even living in London i look at as an experience, one that needed to happen and with good reason. I miss my friends naturally, lord i wouldn't be human if i didn't! These days i am a firm believer that home is where the heart is and at 6am i am already longing for the clock to reach 5pm for the drive home to see my littlest family members. An eve full of babies and laughter! London had a massive unchangeable impact on me, one of no regret. Only the small ache for one special place. My place.
My journey there never differed. Hop on at Kennington, off at Leicester Square. A stroll through Trafalgar, by-passing my favourite art museum, the place i became obsessed with pictures of Jesus on the cross...i still know no reason for this. Under the mightily impressive arches just beyond and to the left, streams of impressive cars coming and going and in the midst of all the hustle and bustle...there you are. Perfectly crisp brown leaves lacing the edges of the walkway, almost as though in a book. The fountain springing high out of the lake. Calm. Serene. Relaxed. If for a moment you forgot to breathe, you easily learn't how to in this haven. In my first teary week this was the place that taught me the words 'Everything happens for a reason', they kept me going, kept me strong. On days when the family visited this fast became the much-hyped place to walk. My sister and co. were lucky enough to get a thorough in-depth education of the place. Changing of the gaurd isn't something easily forgotten. Yes, of course i am talking about St. James' Park. Whether strolling through the middle or along the edge, both would lead to the same powerful, imposing home at the end.
Buckingham Palace. It stands in the heart of it all. Surrounded by impressive gates, edged with gold, all filled with wonder of what happens beyond. I could stand for hours and create stories and everlasting memories. Watching the guards march in the forecourt. Pristeen. Orderly. Regimented. Imagining my brother standing there would always fill my head. A job admired, full of awe! I will never forget stood on Windsor town street when the guards began their march. My Mum, Charlotte and I all wrapped up, tears filling our eyes as the drums started the slow beat. You can't help it, this proves you're human. Up they trooped, a real vision of beauty. The funny thing was that Matthew wasn't even marching that day but that feeling of knowing. What they had seen, been through, conquered. Nothing short of admiration filled your mind.
I have never been religious, never had strong feelings for the royal family, i don't really know much about politics. But when you wind up stood here so many other feelings and emotions take over. Years fly by in the space of minutes, nostalgia hits like a tonne of bricks and you are left feeling warm, sensitive, vulnerable. Even the thought of standing there now calms me beyond belief. My place. Only for me, if for only a shortwhile. Forget getting on a plane, lying on a beach, watching the day break. Here is what matters. Nothing else. No-one else. So on this bank holiday, celebrations, parties, bunting, BBQ's (if the weather holds) i shall spend (at work!) reminiscing. With the family. Thankful.
Jubilations!!!Xxx
I try not to miss much these days. To miss things can mean regret? Wrong decisions? So instead i like to think that something done is another encounter conquered. Over! Even living in London i look at as an experience, one that needed to happen and with good reason. I miss my friends naturally, lord i wouldn't be human if i didn't! These days i am a firm believer that home is where the heart is and at 6am i am already longing for the clock to reach 5pm for the drive home to see my littlest family members. An eve full of babies and laughter! London had a massive unchangeable impact on me, one of no regret. Only the small ache for one special place. My place.
My journey there never differed. Hop on at Kennington, off at Leicester Square. A stroll through Trafalgar, by-passing my favourite art museum, the place i became obsessed with pictures of Jesus on the cross...i still know no reason for this. Under the mightily impressive arches just beyond and to the left, streams of impressive cars coming and going and in the midst of all the hustle and bustle...there you are. Perfectly crisp brown leaves lacing the edges of the walkway, almost as though in a book. The fountain springing high out of the lake. Calm. Serene. Relaxed. If for a moment you forgot to breathe, you easily learn't how to in this haven. In my first teary week this was the place that taught me the words 'Everything happens for a reason', they kept me going, kept me strong. On days when the family visited this fast became the much-hyped place to walk. My sister and co. were lucky enough to get a thorough in-depth education of the place. Changing of the gaurd isn't something easily forgotten. Yes, of course i am talking about St. James' Park. Whether strolling through the middle or along the edge, both would lead to the same powerful, imposing home at the end.
Buckingham Palace. It stands in the heart of it all. Surrounded by impressive gates, edged with gold, all filled with wonder of what happens beyond. I could stand for hours and create stories and everlasting memories. Watching the guards march in the forecourt. Pristeen. Orderly. Regimented. Imagining my brother standing there would always fill my head. A job admired, full of awe! I will never forget stood on Windsor town street when the guards began their march. My Mum, Charlotte and I all wrapped up, tears filling our eyes as the drums started the slow beat. You can't help it, this proves you're human. Up they trooped, a real vision of beauty. The funny thing was that Matthew wasn't even marching that day but that feeling of knowing. What they had seen, been through, conquered. Nothing short of admiration filled your mind.
I have never been religious, never had strong feelings for the royal family, i don't really know much about politics. But when you wind up stood here so many other feelings and emotions take over. Years fly by in the space of minutes, nostalgia hits like a tonne of bricks and you are left feeling warm, sensitive, vulnerable. Even the thought of standing there now calms me beyond belief. My place. Only for me, if for only a shortwhile. Forget getting on a plane, lying on a beach, watching the day break. Here is what matters. Nothing else. No-one else. So on this bank holiday, celebrations, parties, bunting, BBQ's (if the weather holds) i shall spend (at work!) reminiscing. With the family. Thankful.
Jubilations!!!Xxx
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