“To walk out your front door as if you’ve just arrived from a foreign country; to discover the world in which you already live; to begin the day as if you’ve just gotten off the boat from Singapore and have never seen your own doormat or the people on the landing…”
- Walter Benjamin “Arcades”
Today was spent easing back into the rhythm of London life.
But first, a familiar start with vanilla biscuits from All Good Things, Alison’s cake shop in Singapore.
I am getting used to cheeks turning red because it’s blisteringly cold instead of blisteringly hot. The temperature difference is at least 20° C and the dressing guideline has gone from keeping cool to keeping warm. So a visit to the storage facility to sort out the wardrobe.
Shorts and short-sleeves go into storage. The silk things, I am keeping with me, make comforting layers under heavy woollen things.
The short jacket was swapped for a longer coat, the Algarve basket for an English one (for no reasons other than novelty), the sandals intended for boots but I couldn’t find them anywhere so a pair of loafers instead.
But something doesn’t look right…
Better.
I am all for wearing printed silk pyjamas out on the street. Isn’t it the perfect uniform for The Idler?
Hair has gone from humidity-infused fluffy to static-charged straggly. The old grey Borsalino, bought at Newark some months ago at a pleasing £10, is coming in useful. I also picked up a mohair scarf or, more accurately, a snood. But I find it hard to take that word seriously.
Glad to welcome the ground floor back into my life. It makes sense.
At Bumblebee, deciding between samosa or ganmodoki for a snack-to-go. Ganmodoki, proteins won out over carbohydrates.
Catching up with friends – in person or not in person, over the phone or over chicken wings, cake and tea.
Relishing the view from the top deck front seat.
Remembering that there is no need to tap upon alighting.
Lunch at Seoul Bakery. Their bibimbap is of a paradoxical nature. No bibimbap in Singapore comes close, yet when I am eating it in London it reminds me of Singapore.
Checking out old books in Soho. Almost bought Jacques Derrida’s The Post Card but the copy was too tatty.
Shopping for necessities in Covent Garden when I ran into this sheepskin coat at The Vintage Showroom. I pronounced it a necessity, don’t you agree?
Getting out of the tube station to see the moon at 5:27 p.m. The slim crescent has fattened up through the lens.
Observing the new ceiling view. I am very sleepy now.
