A cold city warming to my heart

It’s not cold today I told myself when leaving the flat. Only to be hit with an icy Siberian blast from across the tundra. So now I officially feel like it’s been a year of living in the UK – only because I can actually remember the deep, dark, depressing days of January 2007 in London – notoriously known locally as the most depressing month of the Londoner’s year. That made it the perfect time to arrive fresh of the plane, and fresh of the beaches of Mauritius to a cold and lonely grey city. Today as I navigate the West End streets blindly, head buried in the Metro, I forget what it was like to be a lost newbie, fresh to the dirty, grey streets of London - stunned by the roaring red buses, the throngs of people and the insane volume of emergency services’ sirens.



Many times I have been a tourist in London in the last 12 months as we’ve ventured off to different attractions, events and shows – but only with visiting family have I really been a tourist in the city. Most days I rush through the busy streets and tube, tutting at slow, gawking tourists who get in the way of us ‘Londoners’, but with my Mum and sister here I have come to appreciate the trials and tribulations that confront tourists in London – confusing standing on the right with the logical left hand side, actually appreciating the beautiful buildings instead of rushing past, noticing the smallest detail and the most interesting shop windows, as well as misplacing your oyster card just as you arrive at the turnstile, mixing your pounds and pence with your Australian dollars and cents; and adjusting your 10 layers of clothes, beanies, scarves and gloves each time you go in and out of a building.



In 12 months this city has grown on me slowly, and it’s not been a continuous positive relationship. We’ve had our ups and downs old Londontown and me. I am beginning to appreciate her special qualities, while slowly becoming accustomed to her less attractive features. We’ve laughed together; cried together; shunned the cold and basked in the warmth together; we’ve braved unemployment together, celebrated a West End Christmas in employment together and we’ll soon turn a year older together. While 27 years is a blip in this old city’s lifetime, one London year has been a lifetime in my short life.



While I continue to miss my Melbourne home, my adopted city is slowly become my home (if not only temporarily)