I'm sitting in a borrowed flat in Islington. The rent is USD1200, and we are here for the primary reason of living together. And, of course, establishing humane work hours for my job still based in Seattle. It is Saturday night on midsummer, which means it is not only bright out, but also a celebratory day for many in Europe. This year's midsummer must be particularly celebratory for everyone, as Britain entered the Level 4 health warning over the weekend, which is actually a good thing, all things considered.
Today we went to Clissold Park, sitting on a new wool blanket purchased for the exact purpose of sitting on grass all over Europe. I purchased it on Amazon from a tweed maker in Scotland...which is the kind of thing you can do in Europe. When I am sitting in a park surrounded by dogs, pliant grass, spires from a nearby church, and an old Victorian home now repurposed as a park cafe, I have to wonder, why do I even bother with America? I left in 2012 after a year's stint in Paris elapsed. That might have been a mistake. (But then I wouldn't have met New York!)
Not to mention we were drinking rosé out of plastic cups, and also a burger, fries and cookies, those were present. Can't veer too far from my American palate honed from the last 8 years, I guess. Living in Islington is new for me, as I often exist in London byway of the benevolence of my mother's family, which lends me a flat at no cost in the heart of London, Mayfair. I like the Mayfair flat, it is surrounded by office buildings that are none too occupied, and also the Playboy Tail Bar, which is a fantastic place to walk by at night. Once, returning from dinner, I witnessed the bum of a bunny smashed up against the sides of a larger-than-life champagne glass. This is the kind of thing you can witness when you walk by the Tail Bar at night. I wonder if our building's doormen take their smoke break right outside the Tail Bar. It's not exactly perverse as they have a reason to be there, seeing as their job is around the corner.
Now I live in Islington, which is north of London and infinitely more livable. For starters, we spent USD900 last week living it up in Mayfair, as in buying cornichons and clotted cream from Fortnums no less. And of course ordered-in divine crab meat pasta from Olivo, because I do not live in London and I believe religiously that I am supposed to treat myself when living in proximity to the restaurant. This week we spent not more than USD500 between two people. Which is significantly under our Mayfair expenses. Although I have to wonder what on earth we are buying, because I spend so much less than that when living in America. I have to conclude that I am enjoying myself a little too much.
Now where I live, everyday I am graced by the presence of a grubbed up mongrel cat. She is a mixture of orange, black, and sooty-white. She jumps onto the sills of the bay window facing the street and watches a black cat that presides the bay window next over. She doesn't like looking at me and has no interest in interacting. But yet we co-exist and she is delighted to continue ignoring me every day. I in turn love cooing at her through the window, because it is the closest thing I have to owning a pet. Her eyes hint at a beautiful emerald green, but she continues to squint at me because she likes to keep me hoping.
Down the street is Highbury Road, which is the main drag and filled with wonderful shops like the Italian bodega Da Mario, and Israeli cafe Highness Tea, and of course the butcher and fishmonger, which are both incredibly hip despite the reliquary nature of their narrow trades. I am not an adventurous home cook and so I only buy sausages and salmon respectively. But both the sausages and salmon are delicious, and I can only imagine other cuts of meat or fish being even more delectable. We have been eating well, as my wallet shows.
A lot has happened the last few weeks. It is ridiculous to consider in total the apocalyptic nature of news we have subjected ourselves to. It ranges from the abominable oil spill in Russia, to Hana Kimura's death, to the Black Lives Matter movement finally taking international hold, to sickening stories of police brutality, to Trump's immigration bans, and of course to Covid. But today, this lazy Saturday, as I listen to Stan Getz on repeat, with the promise of my mongrel cat returning tomorrow morning, the world is perfect.
