I had many thoughts about London while I was in London, but then we left London. While in London, sleep won out over writing every time. For a while I could not plug in the computer and didn’t want to kill the battery by using it. Then I got the daughter back from her father and wanted to spend time with her and so didn’t write. And then also there was the fatigue, the overwhelming, staggering, drop me to my knees fatigue that kept my from sitting and writing. I carried notebooks, but too tired. Too vigilant against missing the next bus stop, so the notebook stayed inside my bag.

I liked the part of London we stayed in, but of course, it’s the place where so many insanely wealthy people live. Princes from Dubai. Rock stars. Why is it that they get the parts that are lovely? I read the story of some wealthy crook from Saudi Arabia who came and spent a fortune to dig a basement on this Victorian era house. Then his crooked ways caught up with him, he was arrested, and the house sat with its yawning hole where they were digging this stupid massive basement. (I have another diatribe on the words we use — stupid vs. intelligence for everything, when really neither are a part of so many ways we use these words.)

In any case, we stayed in Kensington and it was so exquisite. We were two blocks from Holland Park. There was an off-leash dog park. I went there alone at first to get my dog fix, and then brought Isabelle and we both got a dog fix. The streets were quaint and beautiful, but the homes there cost in the millions. Insane.

Isabelle’s father had me travel up near Trafalgar Square to pick her up. Yuck. I had actually gone there alone the day prior to visit the British Museum. God, I hated it. The station I rode to on the bus to get to the museum was next to a giant screen with shit playing in massive, flashing and noise. So much fucking noise.

This brings me to the overriding experience of London through sound. No restaurant was quiet. Every single one played noise at volumes to great for conversation. Even in bathrooms it was piped in to every space. I finally looked up “why is the music so loud in restaurants in London” and discovered many articles on the subject. Apparently it shares the ignominious honor with San Francisco of being one of the two loudest cities in the world.

Disconnection much?

How can other life share the noise and flashing screens?

I noticed many fences in London; indeed in the UK overall. For a country that allows free access to meander across various estates, it certainly likes its fences. I wonder about this, how it is for the wildlife. The area has been so thoroughly colonized by humans for so long, that I suspect they long ago had to deal with the fencing of so much of the space, but I do wonder even in spite of this.

The UK has its issues. It is certainly the narcissistic parent of the sociopathic United States. Yet I loved it there. I’m a complete anglophile. I love driving on the left side of the road in the right side of my car. I love the sense of humor of its citizenry. I love the narrow lanes with high hedges, and the fog and sun on the same day. I love the sound of the voices (when I can hear them under the din of the loud noise playing in most establishments). I love its rock bands.

I loved going there and I cannot wait to return.