I wrote some time ago of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time. There is an excellent scene where Christopher finds himself in London, manoeuvring the sights, sounds and rhythms of the daily commuters.
I feel I can relate to his feelings of being overwhelmed.
Though there is, as aptly depicted in the play, a certain rhythm to the apparent chaos and hustle and bustle, it still intimidates me. I am back in my favourite seat, people watching at London Euston.
I wonder at everyone’s stories, how they got here, why they came, what made them stay. I try and pick out the natives versus the tourists, foreigners, lost souls like me. Getting the rules wrong no matter what you do. Smiling, considering, observant.
We had a random family reunion and found ourselves at Hyde Park. At the Royal Albert Hall.
My dad was most excited by this as our school choir had once sung here. A once in a lifetime opportunity, told to us at the time though not really fully understood until now.
And though the memories of running around the London Underground at 14, stopping at Covent Garden, singing our Christmas songs as if we too were buskers, bring a smile to my lips, I look forward to going home and settling back to my relatively quieter pace. Where the air is fresh, the trees breathe green and the people, well, interact.
I’d better get my train, but in the meantime, enjoy a little favourite:
A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square
Tiny Indian Girl Up A Mountain 