There’s a conversation which happens quite often in our house: it involves me proclaiming how excited I am about dinner that evening, a certain someone asking me where I’m headed, me responding matter-of-factly with the restaurant name, a certain someone asking where that is… then me looking and feeling rather sheepish because I have no idea. Oops.
What follows is some frantic google mapping and Citymapper tapping and the realisation that it’ll take me 45 minutes to get there but I’ve only got 30 minutes up my sleeve. And it’s in a part of town I’ve never been to which inevitably requires another ten minutes added to the equation because I will have to stop every two metres to check that the little blue dot on google maps in facing the right direction. Did I mention how I’m not great with directions?
For the last year, it feels as though there have been three of us in this relationship; I’ll confess, I’ve acquired another significant other. A certain someone isn’t too jealous though, they’ve been acquainted for years but to me it’s all shiny and new. Less tragic than the Diana, Charles and Camilla love triangle and definitely not as salacious as an affair which started life through a dodgy dating app, my other significant other is quite simply London.
I knew straight away we would get along. I relish in the occasional breath of fresh country air but I’m a big city girl at heart so gimme the bright lights, breathtaking skylines and unfortunate smog any day. Just as a certain someone figured out early on, London also knows the way to my heart is through my stomach. Over the last year I have been wined and dined for my affection and it’s been worth each and every calorie.