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I was not in favour of the Olympics coming to London.  The UK, sure, but not London.  In 2005 we were all being urged to "back the bid" but I was one of the many sceptics who thought that it was a Bad Idea.  On 6th July 2005 I, like many Londoners, just shrugged instead of rejoicing.

And then came 7th July 2005, and the games went from everyone's thoughts for quite a long time.

And then there were the years of preparation. Lots of my friends became involved, JJ is an assistant for one of Team GB's sports and Rock Chick and four other friends are"games makers". 

My "bah, humbug" about the games just kept increasing, especially last week when it took almost twice as long to get to work.  To add insult to injury, London buses started to play recordings of London's buffoon's mayor's voice reminding us to allow for travel disruption over the PA. And don't get me started on corporate sponsors or on tv advertising (especially this sponsor of the games and this wretched ad campaign).

Even when I knew that some of my colleagues were going to be in the opening ceremony I couldn't get properly enthused. And then two things happened in quick succession. First, I met the cousin of someone I vaguely know, who is a member of Team GB and just listening to how hard he had trained and how beside himself with joy he was at competing in London 2012 chipped a huge whole in my cynicism. Then I watched the opening ceremony and cried in a very un-British, uncynical way.

I may be easily led, but I've been completely converted (apart from the corporate sponsors but that's another story).  And, dammit, I'm proud of my city :-)

a few of my favourite things

These are a few of my favourite things from yesterday.

Watching lindy-hopping while thawing out at the Royal Festival Hall with my friend Poster Girl.
"That girl in the tartan mini skirt and black tights is amazing," said Poster Girl. 
"Actually that's a man in a tartan mini skirt and black tights," I said.
"So it is," Poster Girl replied, with no surprise in her voice.  "Silly me."

The German Christmas Market on the banks of Thames.

Father Christmas playing "Let it Snow" on the steel drums on the Golden Jubilee Bridge.

My darling little cat looking at me when I came home from the garden centre with soil on my jumper and pine needles in my hair (from carry a tree)

another tale from a London bus

So there I was on the way home, minding my own business and failing to level up on Angry Birds Rio when I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I looked up and saw a thin woman in a beautiful jade green velvet coat grinning toothlessly at me.
"You're just a lump of meat, darling," she said.  I must have looked exactly as puzzled as I felt because she kindly expanded, nodding towards the man sitting next to me.  "To your husband.  You're just a lump of brown meat."
My "husband" looked up from his book and we exchanged amused glances.
"He ain't anything special," she carried on.  "He can go and f*** himself.  You're just a lump of brown meat."
And then the bus came to a stop and she ambled off.

I love London!

festival

Sometimes I forget how much I love my city, so it's nice to be reminded:

girly day

On Saturday I spent a soul-healing day with some female, single, child-free friends.
We had lunch (complete with wine), had our nails done, pottered around the shops and then went here for tea.
It was just lovely!

tales from a London bus

My journey to work yesterday morning was enlivened by two young (I'm guessing mid 20s) men, all suited and booted, heading for the city.  I was sitting behind them as they had a loud and bragging conversation:

Whippersnapper 1:  She's gorgeous, my girl.  You've never seen anyone so beautiful

Whippersnapper 2:  I've met her, mate.  She may be pretty but the lights aren't all on, are they?  Grant you my Milly isn't that much of a looker but she's as smart as they come.

Whippersnapper 1:  Bullsh1t! Kit is just as smart as Milly.

Whippersnapper 2:  Yeah?  If Kit's so smart, how come you were telling me she fell of the bed the other night?

Whippersnapper 1: (deep indulgence in his voice) that wasn't her fault, she'd been chasing her tail and got dizzy.

The memory of that exchange kept me entertained all day.

My journey home wasn't as fun.  The little boy sitting behind me thought that it would be the height of entertainment to grab a fistful of my hair and give it a suprisingly strong and vicious tug.  His mother chided him: "You mustn't touch other people's hair, darling.  It could be all dirty".

?!?!??!??!

not as bad

Last week's 2-year anniversary passed less sadly than I was anticipating (as these things often do).  A and I met some friends in London's Chinatown for Chinese New Year: crowds, firecrackers, dragons, food, sake (we cheated a little) and (because Chinatown is handily close) book shopping here.  It was just what was needed.

(And what is not to love about the strict instructions on the back of the firecracker box):

day 24: where I live

I live in a hilly, leafy, north London suburb which is mainly Edwardian in feel, although there are much earlier - and much later buildings as well.  We live in a flat in an Art Deco block although sadly a lot of the original features have been lost in the intervening years.

The suburb is about 6 miles from Ch@ring Cr0ss (the centre of London) and it has parkland at one end and woodland at the other.  We also have, among other things, three coffee shops, four patisseries, a fishmonger's, a florist, a cheese shop, two bookshops and an old-fashioned grocer's which has been in the same place and run by the same family since 1897.

I love it here and I am so glad I sank every penny I had (and more I still don't) to buy this flat 12 years ago because I certainly wouldn't be able to afford it now!

Our street in the snow