I was thinking about the place I lived in London the other day while I was on the PATH. The whole trip from home to 14th St.
Primrose Hill, such a pretty place. Our garden backed right into the park, seperated by an old brick wall, so we had to walk a few houses down to the entrance. I loved that place. At the top you could see St. Paul's and we could walk to the zoo in half an hour. Spent a lot of time there. At summer solstace the druids were at the top of the hill dancing and smoking pot. It was fantastic.
I could walk to a huge open market that was held every weekend and you could wander the booths for hours and never get bored. It was along side of one of the many canals.
I went out into the countryside almost every single weekend. No place in particular in mind. Just stuck clean clothes into my backback and off I went. Lots of day trips. I also spent a week in Scottland.
I loved going to the Tower, to the museums, except the British Museum which I hated with a passion cause it was cold and managed to make all the wonderful artifacts something I did not want to see. The Victoria and Albert Museum was my favorite and I loved the toy museum in Paddington which had the greatest escalator in it's underground station.
Hated most of the food, except the Indian and the places that were American.
Much as I loved it there as a place to visit and explore, I just as equally hated living there and could not wait to come home. I'm a little strange that way.
I cried with happiness when I saw the skyline when I came back home. The two towers gleaming in the sun. Home.
Now I cry cause I will never see that sight again. Don't know why that part just came over me. It wasn't in my thoughts yesterday, but then again maybe it was, cause the whole time I was thinking about London, I was staring at the sign that has the two long flags to represent the towers in the PA ad that they have for their fallen coworkers.
I'll just shut up now.
Primrose Hill, such a pretty place. Our garden backed right into the park, seperated by an old brick wall, so we had to walk a few houses down to the entrance. I loved that place. At the top you could see St. Paul's and we could walk to the zoo in half an hour. Spent a lot of time there. At summer solstace the druids were at the top of the hill dancing and smoking pot. It was fantastic.
I could walk to a huge open market that was held every weekend and you could wander the booths for hours and never get bored. It was along side of one of the many canals.
I went out into the countryside almost every single weekend. No place in particular in mind. Just stuck clean clothes into my backback and off I went. Lots of day trips. I also spent a week in Scottland.
I loved going to the Tower, to the museums, except the British Museum which I hated with a passion cause it was cold and managed to make all the wonderful artifacts something I did not want to see. The Victoria and Albert Museum was my favorite and I loved the toy museum in Paddington which had the greatest escalator in it's underground station.
Hated most of the food, except the Indian and the places that were American.
Much as I loved it there as a place to visit and explore, I just as equally hated living there and could not wait to come home. I'm a little strange that way.
I cried with happiness when I saw the skyline when I came back home. The two towers gleaming in the sun. Home.
Now I cry cause I will never see that sight again. Don't know why that part just came over me. It wasn't in my thoughts yesterday, but then again maybe it was, cause the whole time I was thinking about London, I was staring at the sign that has the two long flags to represent the towers in the PA ad that they have for their fallen coworkers.
I'll just shut up now.