life, in moments

-- January 20th, 2015 --
view from Hutong

Oh if life were made of moments

Even now and then a bad one–!

But if life were only moments,

Then you’d never you know had one.”

Stephen Sond­heim, Into the Woods

Early Jan­u­ary in Lon­don typ­i­cally has very lit­tle to rec­om­mend it: in the first few days there is the das­tardly com­bi­na­tion of jet­lag, unpack­ing, clean­ing up the crunchy Christ­mas tree, more jet­lag.  Avery and I suf­fer par­tic­u­larly as nightowls.  We stay up far too late, span­ning those five hours’ dif­fer­ence we’ve lived with over the hol­i­day, strug­gling to get up at a remotely decent hour.

John bravely car­ried on meet­ing at Pot­ters Fields, I yawned through play­ing with my Home-Start babies, we even booked a fancy lunch at a swanky restau­rant in the Shard, the tallest build­ing in Europe.  As you can see above, it was a spec­tac­u­larly gloomy after­noon, even the fab­u­lous view dimmed by rain.  Some­how that grey­ness con­veyed itself to all three of us as we sat at the table try­ing to have fun.  Between courses, Avery’s head dropped slowly to the table.

We gave up and came home on the cosy lit­tle South­west train to Barnes in the early twi­light, feel­ing it would be bet­ter just to crawl into a burlap…