I admired more than paintings and sculptures on London trip
IVISITED some old friends in London recently. Wonderfully refreshing to see those faces again – and best of all we didn’t exchange a word.
The old acquaintances were paintings and sculptures and I was in The Smoke for the first time since Covid. Before I went, a lot of my real friends frowned and advised me earnestly to be careful and stay safe, like I was travelling to a war zone.
As it turned out, there was nothing to worry about. Mostly, people I encountered were friendly, helpful and smiling. I dropped my hat on Tower Bridge and someone raced after me to return it. I caught the eye of a tourist on the Tube and shared a smile while we watched a schoolboy passenger spending ages combing his floppy hair.
I had an interesting encounter on a cake break at Tate Britain. As I had done all weekend at busy cafes, I sidled up to a table with some seats taken and asked if I could join them. I settled down with my ginger sponge and could not help but listen to the lively conversation of three women on my table, all in their early to mid-twenties.
They all had foreign accents but didn’t look like tourists and were excited and engaged in their Saturday afternoon chatter. I’m a journalist and naturally inquisitive so asked them about their lives.
Turned out they had all moved to London to work. One, a dancer, was born in Greece and ran contemporary dance training sessions (that’s how they all knew her). Another was from Spain and a nanny. The third came from the Middle East to Britain via her home in Australia, and was in IT.
I found it fascinating these young women felt London, for decades famed for its bright lights and opportunities, still has that pull.
Suddenly, four became five when another friend, a Greek-born catering assistant with green hair, joined us and started munching salad from a box.
Our conversation drifted somehow on to conflicts and I was interested to hear young Europeans still knew all about the Second World War and the Spanish Civil War, and the terrible scars left on their countries and people. Those from Greece and Spain had listened with awe and shock to their grandparents recounting the hardships and bloodshed they went through.
The Australian’s family had emigrated from the Middle East to Oz so knew about the perils of war. She was at pains to point out only in Australia was she taunted for the colour of her skin. Never London. It was so nice to engage with young people who were interesting, a far remove from the youngsters I often come across on the No 10 bus into Nottingham who play music loudly and talk about eyelashes.
On my own at a café table I might have started brooding on whether my husband had locked the side gate. Here was a worry-free gang, optimistic about the future and loving life. I was delighted to be a part of their set for a moment.
There was hope in their eyes and joy in the shared enthusiasm for their capital city. And throughout my encounter, not a mobile phone in sight. Oh to be like them again, I thought. Setting out on life’s journey with few cares. I wished them well and walked away with a spring in my step and a surprise souvenir neither me nor my anxious friends at home might have expected.
I found it fascinating these young women felt London, for decades famed for its bright lights and opportunities, still has that pull.