Yesterday as my plane landed and I took the next two buses back to Highgate, all I could feel within me was how much I wanted to be back in my house, on my bed, sprawled and resting. And then I realised how God had answered my prayers from last term, the prayers especially in the first two difficult weeks, where I asked Him to please let me settle. London has, in some ways, become home because now when I return it feels familiar and comfortably recognisable.
It no doubt took adjusting to: my cycle commute has gone from 5-7 km a day to 14-20 km a day. The bigness of this city means longer and more urban routes (read: getting stuck behind buses, rubbish trucks and the billion black taxis), but it has taught me the value of not-rushing and letting go of the anxiety of being late even if I am, simply because there's nothing (within the realms of sensible safety) I can do. The bigness of the city also means that as I cycle along streets, particularly when it's dark, I feel a comforting anonymity - and I sing as much and as loudly as I want to. After all, who's going to ever see me again? Archway road has been treated to many a rendition of hillsong songs, and once I went full gospel and ran through the songs from Sister Act and Joyful Noise, with all the vocalising.
I feel thankful as well for finding a church that I feel so comfortable in, and which I genuinely longed to go back to over the holidays. Each time I cycle over the Thames to get to church I gasp (sometimes internally, to avoid traffic fumes) at how darn beautiful this city is if I look. Those moments of wonder happened often those early days - the view of the city from parliament hill, a particularly striking piece of activist art film in the Tate Modern, the Serpentine sparkling in the sun...
This term, feeling more at home, I want to live in London with abandon. I want to enjoy it, to look and see and wonder often. I don't want to cling to the familiarity too much, so that every day is just a cycle from house to SOAS or house to church. I want to cycle to theatres and parks and monuments and friends houses and cafes and book stores. Please let it be good.
A few other things I've learnt:
- You do not have to be friends with everyone. People come and go here so quickly that it is impossible to emotionally invest deeply with each person you 'click' with. All you can do is try and then accept if, like a wave they retreat back into the ocean of a million people and you never cross paths again.
-A 'recovery day' of just staying at home and doing the necessary like laundry and cooking and work is utterly justified, but on days where it isn't needed staying indoors will drive you sad.
- Hampstead Heath is utterly beautiful even when it is gloomy.
- The tube is endlessly exciting if you don't use it often (and endlessly costly if you do)
- You never need to buy bread if you have the Olio food waste app (I have a regular sourdough supplier now: some of the tastiest bread I've ever eaten and always absolutely free)
- Meeting someone once in a term is normal, and the rare-ness of it makes the time extra special
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