One of the things I love about London is the mad variation of people you get to randomly meet. People who are so different from yourself, it's almost like they're from somewhere out near the 'left sock' planet.
Like the woman I met last week, who was a friend of a friend's friend, and just happened to be walking past an outdoor beer drinking pub moment. She's a very beautiful, high flyer who works on the trading floor in the City, lives in South Kensington with her boyfriend, immigrated from the States twelve years ago and takes taxis to work.
As you can see, about as far away from my London life as is humanly possible.
She flipped when I said I walk five miles to work every morning; then telling the story of the day of 7/7 when everything stopped and she had to walk home in killer heels, stopping at bars along the way for martinis.
This wonderfully friendly and amusing woman was quite happy to stand there under the trees chatting away to two strangers, sharing stories like old friends. And then, after a couple of glasses of rosé, we farewelled her as she drove off in her Kensington-bound taxi.
And so we were left there, finishing our drinks, talking about how we love interesting strangers.
2 comments:
Hi. I'd like to make a formal complaint: you aren't blogging often enough. If you could rectify this situation asap I'd appreciate it. Thanks.
I accept this formal complaint, and admit I have been somewhat slack in recent times. I shall attempt to rectify this immediately.
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