We are fortunate indeed: we have a huge window that looks out on the forest.
A mild November wind came stealing through it on Monday morning, bringing the balmy sounds of the forest: air in the trees. Some owl getting in a last hoot before the tardy dawn.
Out there lay acres of velvet dark forest where deer slept in well-worn hollows and foxes scavenged.
A peculiar wilderness, this. If you watch a hillside carefully you will see tiny lights weaving their way at breakneck speed through Gruffalo-tall pine trees.
BMX bike enthusiasts. In the pitch black.
But it is sweet suburbia, this. It salves the spirit, it soothes the soul, even at five on a Monday morning.
A change in pace was imminent.
When I was younger, you could get off a slowly moving train as it drew up to the platform.
Standing there, on a train which had been your blessed Nowhere for at least an hour, your foot would wait poised, ready to step into Somewhere.
You exchanged one motion for another, a calm momentum for fiery reality.
And such is Monday morning at six o’ clock. I put my foot out of the bed and the momentum swept me forward, seeing off first one child and then the other to school, driving relentlessly towards the occupation which earns me my crusts, stepping into my workplace and handling whatever frisbees it would fling at me today.
And at four, I slipped out of a staff meeting to drive to the station to catch a train.
It is 24 miles from Ascot to London. That’s about 24 minutes if you’re driving on a motorway. But the rail network here has managed to make the experience last almost one hour.
Add to that almost fifteen minutes due to some obscure connection further down the line and I was becoming cross.
I muttered up and down the platform on the first cold evening since the Summer, exhaling dragon’s breath and looking very like a dragon, in the right light.
Finally the offending train arrived and I got on: a time-and-distance capsule. Get in and the rest of the world goes away. It’s just you, commuters in smart boots who look at the floor, and Twitter.
I tweeted and tweeted some more, ranging round cyberspace like a restless caged tiger. I was doing the sums: arrive Waterloo, 6:15; appointment, next to the Millenium Bridge, 6:30.
It was going to be as tight as a banker’s wallet.
The train glided like a dowager, with sublime lack of urgency, into the station. It seemed to enjoy being fashionably late.
I hit the ground running. Have you ever sprinted through a ticket machine? I was close. In-out, snatch the ticket, hurtle towards Waterloo Clock where- unbelievably- my clairvoyant husband was already making towards me.
We both knew we were in for a dash.
But the air was electric-cold, thousands of fairy lights strung up on the Festival Hall: we found it was possible to fly up steps and glide along pavements, past the Christmas stalls which thread the bank of the Thames like a garish set of old woman’s beads.
We passed Hungerford and Waterloo, and were blindsided by a Blackfriars diversion through the back streets,checking our phones minute by minute, second by second.
And so we arrived: at the vista which stands, goblet in hand, on the opposite side of the river from St Paul’s: the quaint white Globe, the stunning serpent of a Millennium bridge, the lesser known tiny buildings which were once significant: Cardinal’s Wharf, and yes, even the needle-narrow Cardinal’s Alley.
And into a hostelry to see someone whom we had never set eyes on before.
I was worried: would we recognise them? We only knew Andra Watkins and her partner – the famed MTM – from photographs and a tiny, recent, snatch of film.
Across a crowded room: there they were. I recall being responsible for an excessive amount of squealing and hugging, kicking off two hours of wall-to-wall convivial conversation.
Which flew. And suddenly we realised our carriage would soon turn into a pumpkin, and we must return home to relieve Granny who paced up and down on the parapets, blunderbuss in hands, guarding the babes.
Over the bridge to St Paul’s and a short moment to marvel: when does that great dome ever fail to astonish, lit up in white light against the London cloud?
And then we were on a London bus, hurtling thence through the Waterloo throng to a train which glides in a leisurely fashion, still packed with commuters, back to the Shires.
I arrived home, relieved Granny of her watch and went to see my pyjamas.
Hello, old friends, I said.
Once suitably attired I sat in bed. The dog adjusted his position on his cushion, and a November breeze stirred the black forest outside.
News from my Blogger’s Collective: Angie Mizzell’s putting a positive spin on life by checking out the little things: there’s a powerful write and a stunning sunset over at EvolutionYou; and read mirror image of this post- from my good friend Andra at The Accidental Cootchie Mama.
Kate Shrewsday 
I love all the similes in this wonderful piece of writing, Kate – the dragon, the dowager and the banker’s wallet (LOL)
It was a simile kind of day, BB 🙂
I just read Andra’s post talking about how much she enjoyed her visit, and then here you are! It’s a delight to picture such a friendly international greeting…and one that took some stout resolve to meet! The world is smaller all the time, and I have enjoyed picturing the two of you. It’s quite remarkable to think of the vehicle of shared interests that inspired such a meeting in the first place. Delightful! Debra
Thanks Debra. It was a privilege to meet this lovely couple in a very beautiful setting. One does not often get that chance to do something like this.
Lovely – that is quite a sprint to make it to Millenium Bridge in crowds at that time – beautiful photo too !
Hi Nicola: it was a sprint, to be sure 🙂 I got the photo at a more leisurely pace on the way home…
Wow, you sure pack a lot in one day – I need a nap now – haha.
I was so pleased to see my pyjamas that day, Gabrielle!
Beautifully written, Kate. I was breathless! Love this: ‘tiny lights weaving their way at breakneck speed through Gruffalo-tall pine trees.’
‘BMX bike enthusiasts. In the pitch black.’ Really? These guys are crazy!
Really and truly 😀 I used to walk the dog very early in that time before dawn when Felix was younger and I would meet them. Makes you wonder what they did afterwards.
Wow, what a whirlwind day. I relaxed when you greeted your pjs. Great writing, full of tension and excitement.
Thanks, Amy. Pyjamas – the sight of- are some of the great relaxers in life 🙂
‘tight as a banker’s wallet.’ Sublime.
Wonderful piece, Kate.
I love travelling by train but the network is rubbish, isn’t it? Not the fastest or cheapest way to travel.
Walking across the Millennium Brisge is on my bucket list. Not my 101 list, because I’ve no prospect of getting to London in the next two years.
Oh, Booo. We’d so love to see you down there. And I have been toying with arranging a meet in the area for a group of bloggers….ho hum. When you do eventually make it – drop us line!
I will! I wish I lived closer so I could meet you all. I love London.
Lovely to picture you all together, this could never have happened without the blogosphere – as someone else mentioned what a lot you both put into your day – lots of pebbles clocked yesterday!
Yes! must write some of them down, Rosemary!
Delightful account, indeed, with some lovely images. Maybe this was more like lento, prestissimo, presto, largo? 🙂
If you have a meeting of bloggers, don’t forget to adopt for it an acronym which I can claim to have invented, and which I now find in quite wide usage – MOB! It is fitting, indeed, because all the MOBs I have attended have become unruly.
…and this must certainly do that, Col. Mob. Got it. Thanks. Your musical summary is spot on 😀
Marvelous wordsmithing, I was thinking I was reading the the PD James version of your mysterious journey to meet the spy couple from the States.
Lou, you have no idea :-). We sat listening round-eyed to tales of guns in mothers’ crocodile skin handbags.
You are a true wordsmith! Well done, Kate…
Thanks, Selena….last day of November…loved the new look and the idea for a trilogy, by the way!
Spy couple. Lou, you crack me up.
Meeting you and Phil was one of the highlights of our trip, Kate. MTM and I are both so glad it worked out that we could do it.
We had a wonderful time, Andra. Fantastic to meet you both
A delight to read, thank you ever so much 🙂
Thanks for reading, as always, Cindy. Loving hearing all the snippets about your new job. What a wonderful experience.
Who knew? I surely never suspected that the simple online renewal of one old acquaintance would lead me to vicarious travels through the blogosphere; thoroughly enjoying the bits and pieces I’m learning and the people I’m meeting. 🙂
I enjoyed this post immensely, Kate; delightful turns of phrase throughout, describing how your virtual friendship with Andra has been transposed to reality (and I got to do more sightseeing along the way). 🙂
It was such a lovely evening, Karen, and the first time I have met a fellow blogger, too. Blogging opens so many doors, doesn’t it?
How wonderful is all that? Wow! As always, Kate, you amaze me with your words and with your zeal. I like this so much I will “like” it as well.
🙂 Thanks Penny…it was wonderful. Hectic, but wonderful.
Dear Kate,
Such a whirlwind of an adventure. Thank you for sharing it and for the serenity of the last scene–everyone safe at home, Grandma having shelved her blunderbuss, and you in your pajamas with memories to warm the night.
Peace.
Don’t you just love pyjamas, Dee? 😀
You paint such wondrous word pictures. A delight to read.
I am glad you got to meet the illustrious Andra and MTM, and even more gladdened that you sent them on back to us. Would be so dreary hear without them. A bit saner perhaps, but not anywhere near the fun.
And I know you will think it strange, but how lucky you are to have the trains to ride! Just think if you were us, as we are here, have to drive everywhere because there is no mass transit to speak of. I love my cars and driving, but what I would give to have a train or bus for all those regular and more mundane journeys.
Michael, don’t think we weren’t tempted to hold on to MTM and Andra 😀 But very glad they have arrived safely back with you.
It’s hard for someone who only knows the UK to imagine life without trains, bus and tube. We love them and use them for leisure, but the cars still beat them hollow for convenience…
A dashing post, both in speed and beauty! I loved zipping along through London with you, especially as I’ve just recieved an atlas of Victorian London maps from an English bookshop in somewhere called Hay-on-Wye (?). The maps are amazing, from 1820-1910, showing the growth and changes of the city. I wish I could look them over with you and compare them to today’s London!
Hay-On-Wye! One day, if you make it over here, you must come to see Hay on Wye, a Welsh town renowned for its amazing second hand bookshops. A totally breathtaking border town, on the bluest of rivers. I feel sure you would adore it. Regarding maps, have you seen the site Old London Maps? It has my favourite, the Newcourt, and so many others. Find it here: http://www.oldlondonmaps.com/
so glad that you had a chance to meet up with Andra and MTM on the banks for the Thames with St. Paul looking over your shoulders! 😀
It was a very lovely evening in every way, Nancy 🙂
Kate, you are the mistress of sweet phrases! Yes to all the above comments! And my favorite phrase pirouette is: [ But the air was electric-cold, thousands of fairy lights strung up on the Festival Hall: we found it was possible to fly up steps and glide along pavements, past the Christmas stalls which thread the bank of the Thames like a garish set of old woman’s beads.] As one who may be guilty of draping herself in a “garish set of old woman’s beads” I praise you for stringing your words as amulets, holding charms for all.
And regarding tempi, perhaps the last bit of your journey might have been marked agitato.
We adore Andra and MTM. Most especially their mutual adoration of one another, and specifically her bluestocking brilliance. She is one of the most insightful minds I know.
Cheryl, you write pretty beautifully yourself 😀 Agitato: how very apt!
And what a couple those two are. Insightful is the right word.
Reads like a “day in the life” story – in parts, more like a mad dash through… 🙂 Loved the ending, the last sentence especially – something wonderfully zen about it:
Once suitably attired I sat in bed. The dog adjusted his position on his cushion, and a November breeze stirred the black forest outside.
The London skyline is a delight at night. St Paul’s is the beacon, as you say. I think I feel a trip to town ‘coming on’.
Definitely. As long as its not for Christmas shopping. Theatre, perhaps…