It is my fourth day in London and I have just awoken, showered in my tiny bathroom – which proved more of a challenge to maneuver within than I had expected! – and decided to post again…though it has only been a few hours since my last installment much has transpired and thus a recap is in order I feel!
The ship and shovel was all that I had dreamed of in an English pub; wooden in and out with a few booths lining the edges of the pub and bar stools hovering near the bar; alluring the wearied businessman, rowdy local or lone traveler. I chose a stool near the corner; not too far out of the way as to be completely removed from the action but with enough distance to entirely soak up my surrounds and look upon my fellow pub goers with intense interest. I ordered a pint of lager in keeping with English traditions; as they say, when in Rome… Sipping from my dauntingly large glass jug, much more daintily than those around me might i add, I observed a group of 5 men laughing, swearing and singing the night away and smiled at their folly. Out of the corner of my eye I had noticed a man sitting across the bar who looked vaguely familiar…before I had a chance to take a closer look, the barman strode my way, cleaning a pint jug with a shabby looking old cloth, and enquired about what i was doing ‘down this way’. I spoke to him for a short while and explained my Australian heritage and current travels; he seemed interested in my lack of direction and said he admired my spontaneity; wished he could follow in my footsteps one day and leave everything on a whim. I smiled faintly at him; I’m sure it had been easier for me to leave the little there was to keep me back than it would be for him. He wrote his name, Tom, and his number on a used coaster and said if I ever wanted some tips on where to go, a place to stay or just a friend in a strange place, to give him a call. He was a sweet guy, but I had never needed any of those things from anyone…. Something I refrained from telling him in that moment. Sometimes certain things are better left unsaid…
As I thanked him for the kind offer, I looked up to see that the man who had looked so familiar was pulling on his brown trench coat, and turned suddenly to Tom, saying I had somewhere to go and must be off. The look on his face told me he didn’t quite believe that one; a girl in a strange city with no contacts and somewhere to be in such a hurry? I smiled apologetically; I think he knew he wouldn’t see me again. After my eyes had lingered upon his for a short time I made my way to the door after the man, who had placed a 10 pound note on the bar and made his way through the door, which chimed a cheery goodbye, and into the bitter wind outside. I turned in a circle upon receiving the heavy wall of wind, only to realize I had lost him….he had obvisouly been in more of a rush than I. Perhaps it was nothing…perhaps I had never seen this man before, but I was intrigued and a little on edge after being sent a picture of the pink umbrella I had left in the tree in Paris, observing from its perch the passers by. Obviously I was mistaken in thinking that no one may have been following my blog. I have at least one reader who cares enough to track down the piece of me I left behind….perhaps my writings are in fact not for my own exclusive gratification after all….
The umbrella i left in a tree in Paris
Unable to decipher what all this meant, I thought I should put it to the test…I will leave my red patterned scarf within a potplant outside the ship and shovel… this time as a means by which to keep a hold upon London town even with my departure; which I feel to be drawing closer, and as a nod to the new owner of my beloved pink umbrella…
-Alaina
