I'm feeling introspective. I stood in front of the window, looking out at Market Hill--dark, quiet--and asked myself, for no particular reason, "how did I get here?"

 

I don't know what surfaced the question. Perhaps it was a note from a colleague who knew I was soon to be headed to Northern California and, would we be able to catch up? Or maybe it was writing a note to Karyn, back in New Jersey, about trying to talk this weekend--Karyn is the catalyst for having met Tim (she is married to Tim's cousin, Pat). Or maybe it was just getting lost in the moment of being here, and here being in Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, in my little slice of heaven, wondering how I am so privileged to be here. Now. Today. Happy.

 

We alll have those moments. I think it's why Twitter is so popular. The moment may not necessarily be an epiphany, but it's a personal realisation that has weight; it feels special, important. You want to first hold it close, like a prized possession, but then you're ready to share it with the world.

 

I will admit to having many of those moments on a double-decker bus--moments of simple, pure joy. Sometimes it's a moment of recollection--a twinge of sadness, or a bit of longing. I can't expect to have lived in another country for most of my life and not occasionally ache for it. It's fleeting; by the time the bus has crossed Waterloo Bridge I'm generally taking a deep breath and thinking about the wonder of my life here in London.

 

I've discovered that a must-see view is from the Number 4 as it approaches St Paul's Cathedral. It is a beautiful, breathtaking, unobstructed view. In the early evening, especially in the spring when the sky just feels darker, well, it has made an impression that I will not ever forget, no matter where this life takes me.

 

Welcome, then, to my blog. It's a lot like that (above). My old site is being taken off line at the end of April and I needed to find a new space, and here I am. Welcome back, I ought to say, for some of you--it is a warm feeling to know that I have regular readers who follow me through London and beyond, eating and drinking and traveling and visiting museums and theatre and occasionally pausing with some history lesson or musing between paragraphs that form the chapters of my life.

 

I am sitting in my most favourite place at home in Cowes watching the sailboats that partcipated in the Nab Tower offshore race return, dodging the humongous Red Funnel car ferry and the smaller but still daunting Red Jet high-speed passenger boat. It's a cool, windy day--great for the sailors, but a bit too chilly to sit for long waterside. I was out earlier taking my usual stroll on the Esplanade toward Gurnard, expecting to and in fact running into Senay and her two children--her husband David is out with Tim on Coh Karek sailing to Gosport to get her measured for racing. Senay's daughter Bo is the third hand on deck--she's not that keen to sail, but she gamely borrowed my waterproofs and is hopefully enjoyinig herself a little. I declined to go--a bit too windy and cold for my thin-skinned self; I want my first outing on Coh Karek to be memorable not for the wrong reasons! The sailing season has just started; there will be plenty of outings to choose from.

 

It has been a blisfully uneventful period since my last blog, which you can find here if you're so inclined. Work has been incredibly busy, but my social calendar has been mostly quiet outside of the now regular tennis game with Sarah on Mondays and lesson on Tuesdays. I did have a wonderful reunion on the 29th of March with a university friend, Laura, who was in London for a single day and carved out three hours for us to have an early dinner, having last seen each other--Facebook excluded--about 30 years ago. 

 

Friends, it was wonderful. I saw Laura approaching and she saw me, and I thaink we both put our hands up to our cheeks in sheer delight and surprise at having pulled it off. She hasn't changed at all--truly; I looked at her and suddenly felt all of my wrinkles. No matter. There was hardly a pause in the next three hours of conversation to catch each other up with our lives--she with three kids and still married to Butch, whom she started dating when we were at NYU. Me, well, some conversation around third time lucky and the joys of living in London and exploring Europe. As we headed back to the Eurostar to send her back to Paris, we flagged a young woman to take our photograph only to discover that Laura's camera had run out of battery. I whipped out my mobile and, naturally, the memory was full--the young lady was patient while I deleted two photographs to make room for one.

 

Hours within posting the photo on Facebook came comments from the rest of the girls--Haydee, Mabel, Angela--about how wonderful it was that we were able to meet. There is a reunion of our group--Alpha Phi Delta--in June, but I don't think I'll make it; with so much other activity between now and The Wedding (and I don't mean Kate and Wills), stealing a weekend is unlikely. But you know what? That's fine--I am happy to have had the opportunity to see Laura and I'm certain we'll all stay in touch via Facebook--you may not embrace social media, but I must say it was Facebook that helped reconnect Laura and me, and I am truly happy for that.

 

I think I'll close here; I've been saying for the longest time to myself that I should write less and more often, rather than trying to carve out hours to play catch up--perhaps this is the start of something different. I find that I can do "different" well--well, at least I'm not afraid to try. Wishing you wind in your sails.