I've been AWOL for 10 days but you will be pleased to hear the court marshall found me guilty and has punished me accordingly. We arrived in Gatwick late on Sunday after basically queuing from Faro, Portugal to the taxi rank in London's Victoria Station - no plane - we just zig-zagged on foot across Portugal to the north of Spain and across the English Channel along paths marked off by stretchy canvas separators - at least that is how it felt. When we eventually arrive home it's well past midnight and we are met by the bizarre image of a vicar dancing in the street. Ah, good to be back.
The wedding we were in Portugal for was a hazy, nostalgic event. My oldest friend got her man at last and it was a truly soft focus affair. Essentially a blessing - the paperwork having been completed in Australia (you have to love the romance of it all) - was held in the shade of a white awning overlooking the Marina in Portimao, Portugal. Lovely. I was reunited with friends and family some of whom I hadn't seen in over 16 years. Wish I could say it ended well but alcohol combined with selfish behaviour spoiled it. Still, that's not a story I wish to have overshadow my friend's special day. I'm glad to say she will be in London for one day before she returns to Australia where she now lives. Hooray for second chances. I have much to talk to her about.
Feeling oddly jet-lagged (because there is no time difference between London and Portugal...did you know that? I didn't) Monday felt yukky. I needed to shake the cotton wool from my head and decided nothing would provide a better jolt than a little meander down to The Notting Hill Carnival. The meander turned into a bump and grind and then a quick march. I remember the Carnival when it was all about music & community; a celebration for the people in the Westbourne Park area of London. Then it got taken over by sponsors and the police and dare I say reggae (no offence to reggae). See when I first went to the Carnival as a child in the 70s it was basically a street party for local children. The addition of a steel band was down to chance availability. Don't get me wrong, I grew to love the floats and the music. Today however it's a regimented march controlled by police. In fact there are more police than punters in some areas. Still, it did the job. I was wide awake.
Trouble with winding yourself up like that is sleep becomes impossible. So there I was at 1 in the morning watching The Life & Death of Peter Sellars feeling like I'd just experienced my own life & death. I guess this is what you call the 'post holiday blues'. Tomorrow is another day.
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