I met a writer this summer. She said the pandemic had hindered her ability to write. Work had crept into her home, a space she’d traditionally dedicated to writing, and she could no longer exercise her craft there.
As I have not written in over a year either, I wonder if it’s because of the pandemic, because nothing exquisitely outstanding has occurred or because I have come to think of the every-days that have taken place as usual happenings perhaps forgetting that London truly is one of the best places in the world to be and to live.
What’s stood out this year? Quiet evening walks by the canal and waterside, gym sessions on summer evenings and late devouring of Magnum ice-creams, Saturday coffee runs and Sundays at the farmers’ market, heading back home with tote bags full of goodies, the stars of which are these luscious, zestful cherry tomatoes from the Isle of Wight which I gorge on like actual cherries.
What’s left to stand out this year? My birthday which is around the corner, my birthday weekend away, the lunch places around the corner from the office and lush poke bowls – the latest “it” food in London, the prep for Christmas and the Christmas tree. And last but definitely not least, the flight, the Christmas holiday and #55SleepsTillNewYorkCity.