In this life, I find my favorite days are often the unexpected and unplanned.
I woke up this morning and decided I should go for a walk – no real plan or direction, except to head East.
On the street was a priest, dressed in black, bearing a full sized cross, with his parish following behind, and Patti Smith’s “Gloria” instantly started playing in my head (Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine)
A quick turn to the right and a slight curve to the left, and a stroll by Holland Park, and I saw the steeple of Saint John’s of Notting Hill and was drawn towards it, and suddenly I found myself amongst rows of beautiful Victorian flats that transported me into a scene from Mary Poppins.
Every time I crossed the street, my American heritage betrayed by the direction I turned my head to look for cars.
Continuing down the road, I stumbled upon the large outdoor market of Portobello Road, where both food and fashion abound, along with the occasional antique book collection (my favorite being “Pageantry of Tropical Birds”, an extra large coffee table book from 1960 of ornithological sketches in both color and black&white, which I would have purchased had I the space in my suitcase).
I contemplated that life is full of sacrifices – and not having the space to buy all the nicknacks I find along the way, is one of mine.
As I walked back toward the heart of the market I found an outpost of Rough Trade, and browsed through the rows of vinyl, wondering if I’d at least have room for a new record. I’ll repack my bags tonight and see.
Hungry, I continued on, looking for a café that would satisfy my need for bread and cheese. I found a deli, La Cave à Fromage, that lovingly displayed their sandwiches in the window, where the staff spoke French, and where the almost excessive amount of brie oozed out from the bread each time I took a bite.
Time to go back to work now, but a reminder that often the best things cannot be planned in advance.
