London

Welcome to London

England was my first love,  and London has always been the force behind that,  Chiswick the epicenter, my aunt the reason. I love flying in and looking down at all the green patches, taking the tube to Turnham Green, seeing what's new and what's gone on Turnham Green Terrace, and walking down the Devonshire Road, underneath the tunnel that smells like piss and then up on the other side of the Hogarth Roundabout where we saw King Charles who was then Prince Charles in the back of a brown Bentley with paperwork, and after that it's the beautiful and wholly untouched Mall.

Little has changed at the Mall since the 15th century 

​But for the last few arrivals, the weather has been less than welcoming, forcing me to stagger along with my suitcases, shoulders up as though doing so might keep me drier, zero interest in looking around, rather looking down to avoid large puddles. Wait, why did I leave France?? 

But this time, things had started going wrong way before the attack of sharp and aggressive raindrops. Last year, in order to renew my British passport, I had to send in copies of every page of every passport along with 200 quid. Because my Maltese passport didn't include a middle initial, the request for renewal was denied without a refund, which didn't warm me to The Land of Hope and Glory. When in touch with the Maltese authorities, I was told it would be a year before any passport would be updated, they were understaffed (??), an awkward amount of time given that it was my proof of EU citizenship. So that project got put on hold in favor of things like finding a place to live and learning how to say "I'm so sorry to ask this, but can you please reset my bankcard password a third time?" in French. When booking this trip, the Air France app might have told me to be concerned about English paperwork, but that doesn't apply to me, I thought, this is a Brexit issue, cocky as I was about being able to use my American passport. Turns out that a new rule went into effect in the UK, not surprisingly coinciding with #47's first day in office, that Americans now have to file information and pay money to enter this bloodsucking country. That I found this out at the airport and had to pay an expediting fee, putting me back £169, didn't warm me to  the old Britannia, nor did the glowers I received from my fellow passengers as I finally entered the plane. 

But the sharp rain pellets that attacked me were the last thing that went wrong, followed as they were by a steep happiness curve with lovely walks, pub visits, old friends, drinks parties, jolly times celebrating my aunt's 92nd birthday, and that whole Christmas thing. 

And a Merry Cheesemas to you

Quintissentially British, at the Cheese Market

There was no question about attending the cheese market, at which I'd stuffed myself in previously. Nat, with years of Costco sampling under her belt (there was a time when she contemplated bringing varied sweatshirts to improve her harvest), joined me. A grey and cold morning after a pub night, of course we were going to the raclette booth, where we shared the vegetarian version of a breakfast a friend had called the Seven Deadly Sins which included every sort of fried meat, bread and potatoes; ours was roast potatoes with a serious amount of oil doused on them, topped with melted raclette, cornichons and what they were calling black ketchup which tasted like Pickapeppa.  You have to keep moving after a meal like that... So we did, going to the Columbia Flower Market to stare at all the people staring at people. 

Other days we walked along the river to centralish London, had not bad dim sum in Chinatown at Lido, visited Brookline friends now living in Islington, said hello to the deer at Richmond Park, bought lots of fresh orange juice. In France, I have no interest in drinking, but find it hard not to in London, whether because of the grey, or the staggeringly good array of pubs. So to pubs we went, finding a new favorite at the Black Lion, where with two of the lads (more about them later), we enjoyed a few pints and some dinner. 

Would love to be there right now

River after a pub night

My coat and a door, Columbia Road Flower Market

​But the main event was of course Christmas, which involved my aunt, Nat, my cousin's three sons and some old friends of my aunt's. The three really lovely sons, whom I've crowned the Cook, the Calmer and the Giggler, all fulfilled their roles valiantly, making it a fun day that went on late into the night. We began with goofy outfits my aunt bought on Shein (impressive!), followed by a killer breakfast, a quick Monopoly game (I got the hotels on the blues, heheh) some singing, pineapple slicing (don't ask), cooking and of course present opening and eating. .

Christmas breakfast is a special affair with the very best smoked salmon that melts in your mouth

Life was good on Christmas morning

Elegance personified

My aunt's friends are a couple who have been married many years. He is a story teller, she is not, nor does she want to become one. After they'd been together some years, she found that her elbow wasn't quite as sharp as it had once been, rendering undercover jabs at him less effective. Instead of giving up, she had some cards made of nice,  thick and luxurious off-white stock that she hands out generously. 

Genius

Sarah, hanging in there after too many hours of socializing, Nat and Humf, the Giggler

Art, the Calmer and Baz, the Cook

After Christmas, things quieted down and there was a fair amount of walking and staring at the river or the sky or other people or a beer. On the last day after Nat had left, I walked along the river, almost as far as Richmond before realizing I needed to get back to pack. It was nice to have quiet time alone. Even though my aunt is 92, it's somehow usually bedlam at her house. 

Tech support

The dearest of displays on the Devonshire Road

Could be anywhere but England?

Beautiful old vine at Strand-on-Thames

I have no idea if this is old school, but seems it

And then it was back to Marseille, delays at Charles de Gaulle**, but eventually home and so happy to be here, the actual light, and the lightness of people, the sense of humor of even the passport people and Uber drivers and well, I'm in the right place and feel so very lucky.  

No more raclette or beer, please

In the hood, still breathtaking

** Got an email just now that because my second flight from Charles de Gaulle was so late, I'm being reimbursed $274 (about the total of the round trip flight from MRS to LHR). I love this country.

​Happy New Year to you. May 2026 bring you many good things.