Last Day of Class, Walking Home for the Last Time...

I know that there's so much to say--to much to say, really... I've got travels to catch up on, journals to write, and memories to catalogue.  All I can say is that this past month has been quite a month!  It's hard to know where to begin...but that will come later.

Today was my last day of class in London.  I don't quite know how I feel--I'm glad to be finished with classes, which seemingly took up too much of my time; time I'd rather have devoted to travel, and exploring, and being with friends.  At the same time I'm incredibly sad--for the end of class heralds the end of my time in London, and I'm not quite ready to part from here...not just yet.  I've fallen in love, I think...with this city, with its people, with this place and this time that I've been so incredibly blessed to be a part of.

I can't even put into words all that I've learned and experienced here.  So much of it must be understood through doing; there's really no way how to describe just the way I feel when I'm walking home from class.  That's the moment when I feel most at home--I know my way around, and I feel like I'm a part of this town...

I have a special path I take, one which I've found out by myself, through many trials and wanderings.  Down Queen's Gate to the zebra, and across and through the columns on the left to Elvaston Mews...  I have a horse friend living there, in a tiny stable which must have once been a garage--or perhaps it's all the garages which once were stables...

Just today, on my journey home, a man was out on the cobbled lane, shoeing the beautiful white mare; his hammer pounding, echoing down the quiet streets...  The trees and bushes are all in full bloom, and the smell of lilacs and primrose wafts through the streets, like incense.  The wisteria is fairly dripping off of all the brick buildings, it's sweet purple blossoms twining around window ledges and framing the brightly painted doors.  The boys at the Les Shires auto repair down the mews were out in full force, complete with blue, greasy jumpsuits, and I couldn't help but smile at the shy one with the blonde highlights who I always catch staring at me as I walk past.  I'll never see him again, and despite the fact that we've never spoken, I was saddened.

Crossing the next street, I meandered down past the Firefly Juice offices, where the workers always look at me curiously through windows lined with juice bottle lanterns.  This is the corner that reminds me of Charles Diken's description of London in "Oliver Twist"--tall, brick, buildings, with winding back staircases, put up in a fit of industry during the time when London's skies were as smoky and dark as pitch.  Today it's bright, though, so as I turned towards Glouster Road, the sun made me squint my eyes as I braved the bustling traffic.

Then it's down Kynance Mews, one of my favorite legs of the journey.  The arch leading into the mews is covered with a type of ivy that rains down from the bricks and almost hits you in the face when winds are strong.  The cobble gets rougher here, so one must be extra careful to mind their feet more than the beautiful pottet shrubs that line the walk, lest they fall flat on their face.  There were two cars in a stand-off down the narrow road, debating silently who should go first, as there was not enough room for the both of them...I pass the veterinary clinic on the left, cross Launceston Place, and continue down the way...  I love this area, because the people who have gardens there do it only for themselves--it's not a through street, so the ivy and daffodils and tulips must be nurtured for the mere sake of nurturing; a pleasant thought.  The bright blue house clearly boasts an industrious gardener, as there's always terra cotta pots and gardening implements strewn haphazardly on their front step.

I turned right up the stairs and march past Christ Church of Kensington, where there are always plenty of children playing in the beautiful garden.  The area I live in has so many children, and they're all just a bit bratty--but what can you expect, it's Kensington!  So as the babies rolled past in their designer prams and the kids rolled past on their ubiquitous scooters (I swear you've never seen so many in your life!) I stopped tp smell the roses...literally.  Going around the block, I've found a narrow alley that connects through to Cornwall Gardens, and I always run my hand along the wrought iron bars that line the tiny path, which makes a satisfying rattling noise.

I traipsed down the next mews on the right, which winds through the back alley where I once spotted a woman outside drinking tea and knitting--it was perfect.  I crossed the path to Lexham Gardens, and made my way down Cromwell Road to the crosswalk.  The area I live in has tons of hotels, so there are always foreigners, and Americans in particular, at this spot...I also tend to chuckle silently to myself when I watch them cross the street oh-so-carefully, not sure which way to look (despite the fact that "LOOK LEFT" is clearly painted on the street, to ease such fears) and I generally pass them...Americans, I've learned, are slow walkers.

Left on to Knaresborough, to the Wells Court flats, where there are always plenty of empty bottles and beer cans which speak volumes about what went on the night before.  I've got a bottle and a can out there still, which I fully intend to pick up before I leave permanently...but which I strangely choose to leave out now, along with the rest, as a silent reminder to myself about the fun evenings I've spent out on the front stoop, playing guitar with friends or partying with the basement boys.  It's always fun to walk up the steps and be reminded of my past glories, haha.

But now I've done my last trip like that...and the thought is hard for my mind to process.  Where did the time go?  I feel like I've only just begun to scratch the surface, and especially with the unbelievable events of the past few weeks, I've got new friends to stay for, and more things to see...  I know I'm going to Ireland, and I'm excited for that (as well as a little nervous, of course!) but London has been home for four months, now...I've settled in, and now it's time to leave.  I'm familiar now.  I feel like I know London, and she knows me...we have an understanding, haha.  I'll be sad to leave her behind; I can only hope she'll be equally sad to see me go...