A London Love Letter

Darling – SURPRISE, we are sitting on a plane. I am sitting one empty seat away from you. The seat between us is filled with pillows, blankets and magazines. There might actually be a mini-sized bottle of gin under a pillow, but that is slightly irrelevant. Our internal tray table is covered with cups of water and empty Seagrams cans. They are certainly not the bottled Indian tonic that you’ve become accustomed to in the past week…but adjustments back to the mainland are often necessary.

I’m watching an independent film that I don’t recall the name of. I think you are still watching Iron Man 3. I love that you are such a man.

Yesterday was glorious. Sure, we had our snappy moments, but it was genuinely a grand day. We rented Barclay bikes from the Kensington station and we rode the almost 7 miles through the city of London to the Tower Bridge. Treacherous yes; adventurous always.

The bridge, a beer, the bridge again, the Tower of London. History, jewels, and London at its finest as the city jams the past to the present and carries a glimpse to the future. We held hands and took pictures.

I had to go to the office in the afternoon and conduct a recording. We took the bikes and got lost a bit and squabbled. I probably was tense in anticipation and you were dutiful in attempting to get me there in adequate time; and therefore we squabbled.

Afterwards we walked long and biked longer. In a bustle at the hotel we freshened and found ourselves a proper drink. A conference call later and we were back on the streets of London – this time we in pretty clothes and me in rocket heels.

A tiny Italian restaurant and good food, house wine, and flurried waiters. Shots of Limoncello arrived without request, and chocolate followed. We nightcapped at a pub and sat next to catty British men as they gossiped about their wives and coveted yours. We walked back to the hotel with arms linked.

Back in our room we acted as improper husband and wife and afterwards I slept as I rarely do. I thank you.

Back on the plane; back in our little row upon ourselves. I just turned and looked at you and all I can think is…I am happy. London, love. Lovely London. Lovely love.