...can be slightly scary though brightly lit and full of life. Cycled there to collect a DVD of pics from St Patrick's, neccessary for some journalism. Got muddled in that network of streets off Shaftesbury Avenue and around Dean Street and Old Compton Street - kept suddenly finding myself out at Piccadilly Circus. Joy to arrive at St P's, cosy shabby house warm and welcoming, teeming with life and a happy sense of purpose. Some one arrived to confer about World Youth Day, was organising a group of some 40 young people from London and Oxford. In the hall, I was greeted by another chap, who'll be coming with a number of others to an event I'm helping to run on Friday in Chelsea. As I cycled away, Soho didn't seem scary at all.
Home v. late as delays on trains. Perhaps because of this, and because it was a cold rainy night, people were cheery and friendly and suddenly...well...British and cheerful. Some one offered me a seat, and when I explained that I was really all right as I needed to stand to steady my bike, he was v. nice and said was I sure..and then took the seat v. politely...and there was talk and laughter about the trains and whether we'd be departing from Waterloo this week or next, and then some one asked if anyone wanted to share a taxi to Surbiton...and discussion became general, and I said I was sorry I couldn't offer anyone a ride as pillion, and there was agreeable speculation as to how many people might be fitted on...somehow it was all just fun and daft and cheerful. Now, why can't things be like that more often?
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2 comments:
Just like an Ealing comedy.
Every time that I read a bit of depressing news out of merrie olde England, I need to immediately turn to see what auntie joanna is writing about that day.
And invariably, I end up musing about emigrating to her neighborhood.
Especially now, trains and bikes sound so much more inviting than $4 or $5 a gallon gasoline.
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