Remember, remember the fifth of November,
the Gunpowder Treason and plot.
I know no reason why the Gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot!
Unfortunately I didn’t see any burning effigies or an actual bonfire . . . but! I did drink hot spiced cider and watch a pretty awesome firework show in Southwark.
The first of November was really the coming of autumn to London, I think. It brought a crisp to the air, and overcast gray tone to the sky that already seems unending. But the leaves are turning a beautiful orange and gold, falling to the pavement in clusters that grow by the day. I’ve watched the colors change from my window; the red, orange, and yellow crept ever closer to me in a strange gradient that only nature can create.
Coats are drawn a bit closer, collars are turned up against the wind and the pace has moved from a leisurely stroll to a brisk walk to the next warm spot indoors.
Today I went for a walk up to Angel, but took a little detour. St. Andrews (the spire I can see from my window, I think) is so beautiful in its posh little square of white houses with brightly painted doors. As I wandered I could see inside these lovely homes, with their painted rooms and real furniture. I saw a little girl at her piano lesson, and families playing in their front rooms and sat at the table for tea. I wanted to take pictures of the picturesque streets, but felt a little voyeuristic and resisted the temptation.
I’ll be honest, I don’t miss America too much. I don’t miss the constant driving, or the stores (except Target). But I miss my family and friends everyday, and it’s moments like that when I wander around the streets of London that I wish my mom was with me, or that I were on a walk with my Dad. Or that I was at a pub with my friends from undergrad (because I know they’d love it).
So, essentially what I’m saying is that everyone I love just needs to move to England with me.
video source: kipirski