So I leave work early today in order to view another house. It's on a busy street, has no garden and is more of an appartment than a house, but with all the stress of possibly facing a homeless February, I'm looking at anything right now. Little miss impatient over here decided not to wait for a bus outside of work that would have dropped me off directly in front of the property I was supposed to view, but to walk there. Despite the fact that I had forgotten my sneakers at home and was debarking on the 2 or so mile journey in high heels. At 12:30 - the time by which I was supposed to be meeting the estate agent, I was still almost a mile away. So I phoned to tell the agency I'd be 5 minutes late...or so. I honestly thought it was only a 5 minute walk away. Turned out to be 15. By the time I got there, the estate agent I was supposed to have met had left and I had throbbing, friction burnt feet for nothing.
I then decided to stop by a local cafe to rest my feet and grab lunch. I went to a small place run by some old sweet English ladies that I had discovered the other afternoon. Only now the place was over crowded with a thick fog of cigarette smoke hanging still in the air, with ash trays pilled up with still smoldering bent cigarette butts. The regulars were a scraggly toothless bunch with long unclean nails and greasy hair. I liked them right away. Since place was scarce, I joined two chain smoking old men drinking out of mismatched mugs full of tea. They called me duck and told me to take a seat. I took out my copy of The Bell Jar that I had picked up for a couple quid at the independant book store down the street and tucked in among the ashes and smoke into my turkey and cheese bap. Down and Out in Nottingham ladies and gentlemen. Somehow, despite the squalor, it feels like home. I am more determined than ever to make this little corner of England mine for however long they'll have me.
Photos of the French part of our vacation will come soon, but what with all the house hunting, I'm much more Notts focused right now. The photo up there is one I took of Nottingham with my SLR. Nottingham's very own Riot Area. Rock.
4 comments:
Very Dickensian, Lauren. Dickensonian? Dickensery. Also very visual. I could picture the whole thing, and I even could smell the smoke and ash (thanks for that). Nice post. :)
TD
That's so frustrating about missing the appointment, but maybe it was meant to be...? And, cool pic.
Also, what's a turkey and cheese bap? Is that like a sandwich? Please educated this woefully ignorant Yank.
Thanks Trish!
Donny - yes it is a sandwich, but on a thick roll. There's tons of different words for sandwiches here. One of my fave's is Sarnie.
Cute title for #101.
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