Tag: summer

Summer sunrise on the Thames

When the alarm sounded at 3:30am this morning I cursed our need to try something new. My mind, the night before, decided that 9:30pm was not an appropriate time to try and sleep and therefore played hopscotch with every thought I’d had for the past six months for two hours. Then the neighbour’s dog decided to add its voice into the mix and falling asleep before midnight became impossible. So yes, when the alarm sounded, I wondered what on earth we were doing. Grabbing the pre-packed backpack from the night before and throwing on my comfiest clothes, I stumbled down the stairs, out the front door and into the car. 

The roads were quiet and the skies pitch black. Mr W consulted the maps in his head and drove the roads for London. There were just a few cars on the roads and I guessed that most of them were cabs, owing to this our journey was exceptionally fast and smooth. 40 minutes after leaving home we pulled up at the north end of Brick Lane. A house party broke the silence of the night and we saw a straggly fox wander through a fence. 

We head out for the short walk ahead. Pausing to pick up salt beef bagels and drinks, we made our way through Spitalfields and were lucky enough to see its latest art installation called ‘The Herd of Hope’. The bronze, lifesize elephants are strewn around the market and absolutely stunning. Only there until the end of this summer we are exceptionally lucky to have seen them. From here we trekked our way past Liverpool Street Station and Heron Tower. The night was calm save for a few revellers dotted here and there. I noticed there were a lot of clouds above us and hoped it would clear soon.

We soon found ourselves on London Bridge, but wanting to watch the colours of the sky change behind Tower Bridge we stayed on the north bank of the Thames and walked east.

Realising quickly that I had misjudged the need to be on the Southbank to be at the correct angle to see the sun rise properly we sped up our pace. We walked past the old Billingsgate market and around the Tower of London. The light was trickling into the sky and our stroll had turned into a march. Missing this was not an option. 

As we walked over Tower Bridge I caught a sniff of the filled bagels in my bag and for a second I think it pushed me on faster. Walking alongside the Thames on the Queens walk at Potters Field Park we tried to find the perfect spot to sit and drink in our surroundings. A few revellers were still dancing on the large grassy steps and I was absolutely stunned at the litter left from the night before. Mr W walked ahead slightly and found a raised area with large benches. 

Perspiring and hungry, we were thankful for the respite on the cool stone plinth. The salt beef bagels were still warm and so juicy and tender that we sat in a happy state of silence eating. Below us the river danced with light as it flowed east. From between the clouds on the horizon we saw yellows and reds ignite in the sky. The lights that had adorned the bridge flickered off as night faded away. 

I alternated between resting and getting up to take photos as the sky changed rapidly. I said to Mr W how amazing it was to witness our capital city like this. How we were having the most delicious breakfast in the sleepy city and how it felt like we were the only people around for miles. 

A lot of people will and have asked why we got up so early and the answer is: space. Well, that and experiencing something new. The space we had to ourselves this morning was so special. If we had left home an hour later, there would have been people passing by on their way to work and joggers and dog walkers galore. By getting there so early we felt like London was our own playground. Like the sun was rising just for us. This isn’t our first sunrise we’ve gotten up ridiculously early to see but it was the first time witnessing the colours of the Thames change. It was the first time we were watching the buildings that make up Fenchurch street transform from night to day. 

I reminded myself then and there that waking up at 3:30am is a small sacrifice to pay to do something out of the ordinary. There will be mornings of plentitude that we’ll be waking at 7/8am. Why not try something new once in a while? 

A small smattering of rain fell from the sky above us and I found myself unbothered. Let it come, I thought, I’m not moving. Finishing my breakfast of champions and taking picture number 326 of the scene before me we decided on the route ahead… 

How long will summer last?

Out walking the other day I overtook an elderly lady on the pavement. Maybe it was my imagination but I thought I saw her shaking her head. I didn’t nudge her or hit her with my bag. I wasn’t speeding around but was obviously a tad faster than her with my feet. I got to thinking about how we tend to speed ahead in life. Is it because we are so eager to reach our futures? In that respect, did she shake her head because in her life she no longer feels the need to rush around? As we humans reach the autumns of our lives, do we tend to look back fondly on our summer years and wonder what the winter years will bring?

On the flipside was she shaking her head because I wasn’t enjoying the present? A gloriously hot sunny day with a cool breeze in the midst of a calm summer week and I’m not feeling it. I’m just passing through. My young skin was a massive contrast to hers, covered in a day’s make-up and my face etched with the thoughts of plans for the weekend; the sun lit up the paths of her past on her face as she soaked up the sun. Slow and steadily. 

Am I right? Do I place too much emphasis on the future? Should I slow down and enjoy the sun while I’m still in my summer? Even now, my thoughts are fast forwarding to our trip in 7 weeks, as if it is a beacon shining amongst the monotony of the every day. I wonder if I wait too long for my future and that I’m going to miss out on opportunities in my present. In my winter years I’m not going to want to waste my days idly thinking about passing on and what is beyond, I want to be walking in the glow of my past and present. And in the very naked reality of it all, how do we know when we are in our winter years? At 34, one would hope I’m emerging from the spring of my life and blossoming for a long summer, but we don’t know when our own personal autumn starts. I could have my winter smack me in the fast form of a bus on my next walk.

I think what my fastforwarding mind is wrapping its mentality around is this: let your summer enrich you while you are here. Whether you are in your winter days or not, the sun still shines in memories and nourishes who you are and will forever be. If you give in to the sun it will highlight the footsteps you have made and are yet still to make. Don’t let the cold in. Let it warm you to your fingertips so you can reach out and touch other people’s lives. Burn your nose to make others laugh. Warm your heart to share with everyone around you.

Share your summers, past and present, for a stunningly bright future.

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

All part of the narrative

If you have read my last few blogs you may have seen how excited I’ve been to set up our pool for the summer. We are yet to use it properly and with the impending heat wave of doom it feels like we are halfway to actually surviving it. 

The thing is, when you own your very own property things can change really quickly. Obviously I don’t think there is a curse placed on mortgage payers, but it can be a kick in the gut (and wallet) when something unforeseen happens. Usually for us its technology, last year we had a 6 month struggle with our boiler. 6 months prior to that, our dishwasher upped and fucked off due to a internal complication I think it made up quite personally. 12 months previously to that, our fridge freezer decided it wanted to shuffle off its mortal coils. And fun stuff like that seems to happen a lot when you have zero back up plan and really would like to have some savings building up. This week, our cat decided to check out our pool and punctured its air-filled dreaminess. Mr W and I have spent all of 30 minutes in its cool depths, all of those in the shade. Frustrated is not the word. We are yet to find the tiny hole that is deflating our hopes and dreams. 

The problem with owning a house is there’s no landlord or council that has a duty of care and maintenance to come and fix said items. I mean, if you rent and burst your swimming pool and Landlord Larry will fix it for you, well quite frankly, when can I move in? 

It’s a delicate line to tread when owning your home. On one side there’s the fear of something breaking and checking the sofa for coins to fix the problem. The constant cycle of decorating and learning about electrics and plumbing and a whole host of DIY skills. We had a flood during the lockdown of 2020 because the pump for the electric shower decided it needed a laugh. The flood rained down through a newly installed ceiling and we haven’t been able to fix the pump whatsoever. It sits waiting for the next big project. If I had decided to kick the pump around the garden like a football I’d understand. If I had run the dishwasher for 24 hours straight for a month I’d understand. But technology truly has a mind of its own. 

The pool however, did not decide to deflate. Our ginger Tom saw to that. He is like a moth to a flame when it comes to water. He likes it colder than cold, fresher than fresh and will nick your tea or wine if unattended. The boy is a liquid lusting whore. I could scream and shout, I actually want to, but I learned years ago that our animal friends, our pets, companions, and family are a blessing. If he had sat on that decking, drawn out a claw and run it down the plastic much like someone would key a car, then I’d be having words. However the simple fact is, he wanted water, he went for it. It is his quirk. Much like our other cat’s quirk is to want attention just as you are falling asleep or the other’s is to claw his way up your leg to say hello. Much like Sylvester Stallone in ‘Cliffhanger’. They don’t do it to annoy us. Nor to irritate or make angry. It’s just them. 

I have lost patience with previous animal loves and you can’t take it back. I regret how I used to tell off our dog about peeing in the home. She wasn’t well and I wish I had been kinder. I used to get exasperated about the mess. But the truth is, I’d do it all over again for more time with her. The same goes for our black moggy who we lost in 2019. She would scream at me from the kitchen counter for food. All day she’d cry. And I would cry back at her. ‘Yes, yes, in a minute.’ What I would give to hear those sounds again. What I’d give to have learnt more patience back then. But now, I live with those lessons and what it has taught me. 

The truth is, I let our cats get away with murder, they are pampered beyond belief and I think thats because they’ll never understand just how much they mean to us so I find other ways to make sure they know. They’ve been there every single day during lockdown. They give me cuddles on my bad days. They give me a reason to get up. They’re true companions. 

So when one yaks up on the floor, I’ll sigh and grab the kitchen towel. When there’s a puddle of pee because our tiled floor is better than the flower beds and grass, I’ll shake my head and get the mop. Because we brought them into this home, we chose them. They are entitled to be who they are. I can have the patience for them and their quirks. 

The same goes for the quirks of this house, technology has a shelf life. It shouldn’t but it does. A burst pipe, dodgy electrics and so on goes part and parcel with the mortgage. Would we have rented if we’d have realised all this in the beginning? No, of course not. Owning this house means our hard earned savings went somewhere and will one day pay for our retirement or travelling or even be handed down to our kids. It is something worthy of being patient about. However frustrating and hard it can be and often is. 

It was our choice to buy this place. The same as inviting our furry pals to live with us. It’s all about choice. So when something bursts, breaks or fizzles its electrics out of whack I will have a moment of disbelief, that’s only natural, but I’ll also take what I’ve learned about patience and carry on. It’s all part of the narrative. 

Now I need to find the pool puncture so I can sigh in a very chilled manner!

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com