Two Londons 2007

There was a box of herbal tea bags on my desk at the language school I taught at in London. It was an assortment of lemon, ginger and orange. I bought it at the beginning of winter when I was optimistically theorising that citrus could replace sunshine. After my afternoon class, I would take a tea bag from the box, walk into the kitchen, place the tea bag in a large yellow mug, add boiling water until it was two thirds full, walk back to my deskand sit the tea down. I would then walk back to the kitchen, get a glass of water and a spoon, walk back to my desk and sit down, pour the water into the tea to cool it down, strain the tea bag by placing the tea bag into the bowl of the spoon and wrapping the string around it to squeeze out the water and throw the tea bag in the bin. Then I would drink the tea while preparing the next day's lessons.

One day I noticed Paul, who sat next to me, watching me intently. I looked at him quizzically. "Just watching the ritual", he said. At the time I hadn't thought of it as such, I was just making a cup of tea. But now, looking back, I do the same thing.

Recall and watch the rituals.



There are two Londons for me. There is the London of my first impressions which turned my expectations upsidedown. I had not expected to like London. I thought it would be grey and dreary and lack lustre but I changed my mind before I got off the tube coming in from Heathrow. London was bright until eleven and excited and pulsing with energy ( I arrived in summer). London was brilliant. London was brilliant even in my jetlag haze.This is my first London. This is the London of my touristic squeals at Big Ben, and Tower Bridge and the Thames. This is the London first coffee at the cafe at the top of the Tate Modern overlooking St Paul's.This is the London of the excitement at getting on Red Double Decker buses ( actually, that particular excitement never really wore off). This is the London of feeling like I was walking around on a giant Monopoly board. The London shown in the snapshots of tourists, but MY snapshots. I remember that first visit before I headed off to Italy and Scotland for six weeks, in snapshots, and in a giddying rush of excitement and overstimulation. My first London is a crush I will never quite get over.


That is of course my first London.There is the second London that I lived in and worked in and paid bills in. The second London that I eventually cracked and made a life in. A place where I had daily ritual, weekly pleasure and pet peeves. The first London is a place where I took photos, the second Londin is a place where I made tea.