Having drawn blanks trying to write more for my blog, It occurred to me I could try and write a story from a one-word suggestion. So I did… Having written it, it feels like a monologue…
I met Lydia back when I first moved to London. We kept bumping into each other at the Starbucks in Liverpool Street Station. She with her Soy Latte, me with my Americano. She surprised me one Thursday, asking me to join her at her table. It had been a particularly bad week for me, the adjustment to London life, and a hard few days with the markets in Shanghai had given me pause to wonder if I’d made the right move coming to London, and if I’d be better off going back to Devon.
Something told me I should sit down.
She’d not long moved to London herself. Swapped a life in Glasgow to live with the Sassenach. We sat there and talked. On reflection, it seems strange to just talk openly with a complete stranger, but we did. We covered everything from how we regretted not making time for anything other than work, through to our mutual love of Matisse. It was intoxicating, making a connection with a total stranger out of the blue.
I didn’t see her for days after that. We’d not exchanged numbers, and all I had was her name and coffee order. I was bereft… I kept berating myself for not giving her my number… Then, I saw her again. Same table, same coffee, same smile.
We met regularly after that, making time for dinner or a drink. In such an isolating place, having that kind of connection to another person was incredible. It made everything so much brighter… the Overground bothered me less, grey skies over the City looked less gloomy. I never pictured myself as a social animal, but she’d drawn that out of me.
People around us asked if we were dating. Until that point, the question hadn’t even occurred to me. I just loved being around her… anything beyond that seemed unnecessary. We talked about it after that, and I was ecstatic when she mentioned she felt the same.
We met up again a month or two ago. She’d been offered a teaching job in Singapore and was moving away. I was made up for her. Our last dinner together was bittersweet, and we made plans to meet up in the future.
Then, she was gone.
It’s been an adjustment not having her around, but I’m grateful for the time we shared. Going back to the old, gloomy world felt like death, so I’m embracing the idea of being open & present for someone else.
Which is why I’m here… what brought you to Liverpool Street?