Things to do, places to see. Like so many carrots, we dangle these in front of ourselves when we want to head out. A second trip to London? Isn’t that a waste considering a lifetime is not enough to see all the places in the world, leave along going somewhere twice? So I dangled some carrots__a literary festival held in a castle with the promise of books at 50p, a gorgeous castle situated on the crag of a hill and the complete works of Shakespeare with Judi Dench in one of them.
But as I looked down at the capital of the world stretching out below like something out of a fairy tale, all the carrots went out of the plane window. Not to say that I didn’t try. I went to the National Express office to find out about Edinburgh and even asked how I could get to Hay on Wye. Tickets for Scotland were sold out thanks to some football match and they’d not even heard of Wye. But it didn’t really matter. I didn’t even bother with the printouts of the London walks. I was content to just be, to indulge in the bard, to browse in the bookshops and walk around in the silence. Petticoat Lane, said somebody. But it was like something out of LA. I was out in 10 minutes.
An unplanned trip to Bristol and Avebury (yes, it’s there in the previous post but I need to add my two bits) on a beautiful summer day really showed that summer days are all they are cracked up to be even though sunshine till 9 in the evening is such a treasure in itself. Not to say that the Indian countryside is any less beautiful, but it’s the quaint differences that make you pack your bags, right?
A sign in a 16th century church at Avebury said they were looking for bell tollers. Practice was at 7.30 pm on Tuesdays. Anyone fit enough could join.
A birthday party in Bristol was held at a pub on the riverside so I caught the moving aside of the bridge to let a vessel pass.
I know a third trip will only warrant itself if I find those carrots again but reading newspapers (Sunday or otherwise, a la Ms Maxted) while eating takeaway lunch in a park__I would board the plane just for that.
(P.S: A tragedy: One carrot, that of watching Agassi play at Wimbledon, has been rendered irretrievalble).
But as I looked down at the capital of the world stretching out below like something out of a fairy tale, all the carrots went out of the plane window. Not to say that I didn’t try. I went to the National Express office to find out about Edinburgh and even asked how I could get to Hay on Wye. Tickets for Scotland were sold out thanks to some football match and they’d not even heard of Wye. But it didn’t really matter. I didn’t even bother with the printouts of the London walks. I was content to just be, to indulge in the bard, to browse in the bookshops and walk around in the silence. Petticoat Lane, said somebody. But it was like something out of LA. I was out in 10 minutes.
An unplanned trip to Bristol and Avebury (yes, it’s there in the previous post but I need to add my two bits) on a beautiful summer day really showed that summer days are all they are cracked up to be even though sunshine till 9 in the evening is such a treasure in itself. Not to say that the Indian countryside is any less beautiful, but it’s the quaint differences that make you pack your bags, right?
A sign in a 16th century church at Avebury said they were looking for bell tollers. Practice was at 7.30 pm on Tuesdays. Anyone fit enough could join.
A birthday party in Bristol was held at a pub on the riverside so I caught the moving aside of the bridge to let a vessel pass.
I know a third trip will only warrant itself if I find those carrots again but reading newspapers (Sunday or otherwise, a la Ms Maxted) while eating takeaway lunch in a park__I would board the plane just for that.
(P.S: A tragedy: One carrot, that of watching Agassi play at Wimbledon, has been rendered irretrievalble).
posted by Monica at 3:35 AM
1 Comments:
look at u.. just back from a trip and already dreaming!
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