I came here following the map on my iPhone which was taking me to it’s home. I wanted the nearest Apple Store and it served up Apple Coventry Gardens , around the corner from my Thistle Hotel by Piccadilly. Lovely walk despite the light rain.
Again Apple doesn’t have the same replacement IPad which will be replaced if I can find a store with the correct model. I only bought it last year but apparently there’s only one store a mile or two from here with that model. I could make an apt tomorrow to get it if I wished. I don’t wish to commit a day to an apt when I’ll be going to the musical Mormons at night and could go to the Corbault Modern gallery or British Museum.
Today I have bought a cross the chest light weight ipad carrier bag which is half the fuss of my pack sack. This light bag sits in the front and seems to carry easier and safer than the backpack. Also light enough I believe I’ll get it in the carryon home.
I sent a bag of gifts souvenirs to the god kids. Yesterday I bought them and today I’ve found a post office on Regent and sent them.
I also bought delicious burgers from 5 guys with milkshakes and enjoyed lunch in the hotel room. The last time I swung by on the way to Apple Laura was in the shower. She said she wanted a down day since we were going to ballet tonight. Looking for Apple I came across the Royal Opera House. It’s very close. We’re seeing Swan Lake tonight.
I find myself walking down the streets thinking, ‘nice legs…..great breasts….beautiful face….love that dress…..great shoes…sexy walk, ….she’s cute…he looks smart….wonder what that accent is….the locals know the origins of the accents…..love that jacket….nice breasts….love the mini skirts…nice legs…..great walk….she’s posh….she’s Indian….love the lipstick….great eye shadow…..nice walk….she must have been a dancer….love the groups of girls….all dressed up as if they’ve decided to meet for a shop…..I suspect I’m the oldest I’ve seen….she’s old…..he’s probably younger but he looks all used up…he looks my age, nicely dressed, elegant….not so bad being older if you don’t let yourself go…..Laura comments on the women that let themselves go….I guess its the same for the guys…..nice breasts…she’s probably half my age…he’s only 20….looks like a swimmer….that guy has been in the gym….there are so many good looking young people….my mind registers the 40 year olds……sexiest…..the older ones catch my attention with the interesting faces, carriage…..accomplishments, often wealth….in Oxford the older women that caught my eye looked more intelligent…..the 40 year olds that catch my eye are just sexy , attractive….I want to talk all night with the older women while the young women strip and walk about the room. “
It’s difficult being saddled with this mind. Should have it on a leash like my dog. I imagine we’re all part of a group mind…..God is present in the whole mix. …I ‘m here in the now….It’s a kind of walking meditation….interrupted of course by those breasts….they were beautific and I loved that the woman knew and seemed to appreciate I appreciated her beauty. I am so bored by the cows who played that game of walking around with their tits hanging out so they can slap men for looking. Passive aggressive manipulative cunts.
It’s a long time since I was drinking and took glee in poking ego balloons. Today the shame isn’t about nudity or sex but rather about dildos and anal play. Group sex and black outs. That’s what worries. ‘I let my best friend’s boyfriend and father do anal on me’ the college grad complains. Now the excuse is cocaine.In my day alcohol didn’t let you off. The regrets that are shared are about letting someone film the train and not about the train. So much is about the internet. Now everything is out there.
I’m walking along remembering times when the world was electric and I was a part of the god mind , feeling connected .Now I’m just another tourist. Aging. I remember young being obsessed like a dog or a cat with a particular woman. I am surprised today that the thoughts are just in passing. More like ‘oh that’s barley growing there, over there is flax, did you see the sheep.”
I love the crowds and people. I love the feeling of being amidst such an international gathering. I’m in London, the centre, the heart. So much is happening. So many ideas. So much fertility. Such imagination. Laura liked the giant ice cream cone with the insect on the side, the drone and the cherry on top at Trafalgar Square. The insect did it for me. Art. Here in Coventry I love the quaintness. I look forward to being in Paris next week. The shop signs about are like the left bank. This place is Chez Antoinette. I’ ve been enjoying the impressionists. My love hate with French weakening. They were Scotlands Allies against the British but in Canada Quebec is a mean spirited evil welfare bum. That’s Montreal. The rural folk and Quebec City sorts don’t have the arrogance that seems to be at it’s worse when too many French men gather. Nothing bad is ever said of French Women. Except that the way they mother must have something to do with so many Montreal and Parisienne males struggling with impotence. This is silly. It comes from a few encounters with most sales people in Paris and Montreal. Thankfully my roommate Fern from ST. Boniface was salt of the earth like so many French Canadians I know personally. The ease with which a resentment embeds. The Parisian cafe waiter who mocks my French as a young man. He was like a similar waiter in New York. Suddenly I generalize the slight. What a petty little bugger I am . The fact is I do enjoy the French contribution to style and art. The Impressionists are my favourite visual artists.
Time to move along. I’ve pressed the pus out of my brain with a little journaling and can feel some relief. I’ve so liked writing this trip. See one, do one, teach one was the old adage. By writing and reviewing my outward experiences I’ve more memory and more insight,
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