London, ah my London, looked splendid today. I was lucky enough to arrive early enough to find the city still shaking off sleep. The streets had been cleaned of Saturday night, many places had not yet opened their doors to Sunday shoppers, the theatres on Shaftesbury Avenue were closed for their one night of rest and I strode with a bounce in my booted step towards the cinema showing the cast and crew screening of the movie we made earlier this year.
When I emerged a couple of hours later, happy and relieved that I had done myself enough credit on screen not to worry about sending people to see it, I strolled down to Piccadilly, losing myself in the crowds and soaking up the city centre streets I know so well.
Every corner spoke to me of former times: of the young me; of nights with loved ones; of days with the baby Anna-m; of early moments with the Bim; of evenings in the company of friends. I wandered the streets like a tourist with deja vue: Trafalgar Square (proclaiming that there were only 250 days, 3 hours, 29 minutes and 16 seconds to go to the start of the London Olympics!); Whitehall; the Embankment; Westminster Bridge; Waterloo.
I took out my mobile phone and took photographs at every turn. Remnants of the morning fog misted the watery sun. The Thames was splendid with life.
Oh London, my London. To say I miss you is not quite so. You're so part of me I can live you when I'm not near.