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City Girl, I am not



I talk a big talk (I don’t even actually talk a big talk), but I actually find big-city-living to not be my cup of tea.  I love London, and am so fortunate to be living so centrally, because I’m pretty sure this is the only time in my life when I’ll be living in one of the world’s loveliest and biggest cities.  And for THAT I am grateful, my friends.

Just so I don’t sound too whiney, the most wonderful part of living in central London: being able walk most places.  Not everywhere.  But avoiding the tube is lovely.  Also, avoid Oxford Street like the plague.  Keep away from that madness, Trust.  I can walk to markets, and class, and to cinemas and pubs, and museums and galleries, and it’s wonderful.  I probably walk a very minimum of 4-5 miles a day.  As such, I haven’t gone on a run since I’ve been here, gahh.  To change that, I’m signing up to do the Paris Half Marathon with a friend from school in early March.  Because, if you’re going to do a half, might as well be in Paris, non?  My training schedule… starts…. today.  I plan on running lots in Hyde Park/Kensington Gardens because that’s where Peter Pan likes to hang, don’t-you-know.

However, with all that walking naturally comes interacting with other walkers.  Doing daily errands, walking to the grocery store, or trying to get to work, you get body checked on a minutely (is that a word?) basis.  Nobody here makes an effort to also move out of the way as you approach each other.  Yesterday a lady and I were walking right towards each other, and I stepped to the right as much as I could.  I would have moved further except I already half-walked into a TREE.  AND SHE STILL DIDN’T MOVE.  AND SHE STILL SHOULDERED ME.  It is already making me beyond grumpy, mainly because when other people aren’t polite, it makes me sad.

The other day the sassiest and most flamboyant person I have ever had the privilege to witness moved out of the way as he and a middle aged woman approached each other.  She did not budge.  So he throws up his arms, and goes,

“What, lady, you think I’m the only that gots ta move?!”

Word, brother.  I feel your pain.

I’m going to leave you with Hawksley, who feels every city dweller’s pain:



The BEST holidays

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