Eulogy for Lonnie

Meditation on London 2

Westminster Bridge, just before I walked across it. 

The first time I met her I didn’t know what to think. She was loud. She was scented by petrol fumes. There were people clamoring all around her. Everyone wanted to either be with her, be in the same picture with her, or at least have a weekend fling with her. She’s been the mistress of kings and queens. The muse of authors, artists, filmmakers, rock musicians, and fashion icons. The streets that course through her are like veins that carry her lifeblood; her people. It’s the Thames that gives her those curves, as it caresses her sides, and holds her together. It’s like the laces of a corset that zig-zag across her back.

            Her name is London.

            I can’t help but feel a little smitten with her. I’m in love with Bath. I find Stratford-Upon-Avon charming. Manchester feeling like a hometown. But London is like that wild girl you see across the dance floor in a nightclub; as the violet lights pulse in sync with the bassline from the D.J. booth. She always wears a red dress with lipstick that matches. Her hair rests on her shoulders, and curls just a bit. She looks at you, winks, and then dares you to follow her.

            You might need a cold shower after those above paragraphs. If so, my work here is done! If not, then keep on reading.

            My first time in London was in 2016, just a month after my mother died. I stayed in the Midlands, but thought I’d at least see London once. I went to Westminster Abbey and then went looking for Sherlock Holmes’ office (You can read about that in an earlier entry—linked here). This time I went to the National Portrait Gallery, The National Gallery across the street, and St. Martin in the Fields. I also stayed in Chelsea for a few days. I must admit, it’s not what I expected. It exceeded my expectations.

Restoration work on Elizabeth Tower/Big Ben and Parliament. 

They look so different with that scaffolding. 

            London is a hard sell for some. I think that’s because of the crowds, the petrol fumes, and the loudness of the place. London is VERY loud like a rock concert. But not all of it is loud either. Despite traffic swirling round you there are quiet areas of the city; like St. James Park, Hyde Park, and surprisingly Trafalgar Square wasn’t too loud. Alright, so that Hip-Hop trio across the way was a bit loud, but they weren’t bad at all. That guitar player busking and singing Pink Floyd covers was alright. I’m sure Admiral Nelson atop his column would have broken rank to breakdance, though having a missing arm means he’s off balance. The lions at his feet seemed okay with it.

            London is one of those places that never looks the same twice. For that matter, no two neighborhoods in London look the same. It reminds me that every town, city, village I visit in the U.K. has its own look. London has about five-hundred looks. She changes her hair color, wardrove, and even makeup every other year. Though I recognized where I was in Westminster, and had no trouble finding Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, and associated landmarks again, it still all looked different and yet familiar. There’s Tudor, Georgian, Victorian, Gothic, and Aldous Huxley all in one city. I see the Shard among buildings like St. Paul’s Cathedral and I think of Brave New World. Piccadilly Circus once had its own version of the “feelies,” but that’s another story. The point is that London looks like the future and the past together. I get that same feeling in most cities in England—some more so than others. Just as each city has its own look they also have their own personality. London has plenty of that.

            I had a conversation recently in which I said, “They say New York is ‘the city that never sleeps.’ London is the city that never stops moving.”

            You can quote me on that. But if anyone puts it on a t-shirt I want a cut of that. Some of us have to make a living as well, you know.

            London is constantly in motion because the people who make her are constantly in motion. Without her people you don’t have London. It’s a symbiosis between the two. During my visits there I see that it’s a city where so many diverse groups of people come together. It’s then that I realize that London is a living city. It’s not a museum piece. Among the large Victorian structures like the Naval Arch and Elizabeth Tower there are people who live there, who call it home.

My first time there I felt a little intimidated. So, I just pretended I was one of the locals, and tried my best not to look lost. I got lost, but never asked for directions. Thank God for the miracle of GPS on your mobile. This time around I wasn’t intimidated. London was there where I left her. She was waiting for me to drop in and become better acquainted with her.

            I found more to like this second time around. Though I’d prefer to live in a place a bit quieter, I can’t help but flirt with London just a little bit. She has expensive tastes, but she’s a lot of fun. She’s loud, but you learn to accept that. She inspires and dominates. But she can’t help it. She’s that untamed woman that can’t be broken. I admire that about her. All the strife and changes that she’s seen and she’s still herself. The people may change. New buildings may arise. But London will always be London. There’s a sense of comfort in that while she undergoes changes she’s always in the same spot. She’s not going away, ever.

Text and Photos Copyright Riley Joyce 2018             

              

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