Time is passing terrifyingly quickly. I’m one who avoids clichéd conversation about the effects of daylight saving or the fact that it’s windy out, but I just can’t help falling for the old adage that time passes more quickly as you get older – because it does. I blinked and missed January; my February is already spoken for; my 2016 is filling up fast. All I can do is make sure I’m soaking up the good stuff. Good food, people, places and books. On which note, I’m currently reading Ruth Ozeki’s A Tale For The Time Being (obsessed), we’re off to Berlin next week (third time lucky), and we can’t stay away from Tottenham’s Chicken Town (no, really – can’t stay away). Hopefully I’ll catch you again before February’s out.
What is it about train journeys through cities? Or train journeys to a city? There’s something so poignant in it. Part pride and part discovery and part choking-nostalgia. I’ve never forgotten the muddled way I felt as that S-Bahn train picked it’s grey way to Berlin. Or the familiar rise every time I saw the Hat Museum in Stockport and knew that Manchester could only be minutes away. And those sudden brick walls that enclose the train and seem to touch the sky and mean you’re in Liverpool now. Sometimes I don’t think you can be fully indebted to a city until you have looked upon it through the windows of a train.
And so, to London. The ways you can train to it and through it are so many and so varied that I could never tire of it. Here’s how I saw it (once).
The inevitable holiday phone snaps. Count yourselves lucky that I’ve narrowed it down – there’s about a million more where these came from, clearly. Videos, too [Vine: how fun]. Anyway, I’m back now [with a newly developed fear of flying – thanks, wind] [admittedly it doesn’t take much to switch my brain from fine to fear but still, il y avait du vent] and I’m all over the sorting/my/life/out stuff. Watch this space, won’t you?
I think I promised some Berlin photos a while I go, didn’t I? I know, I know, I’ve taken my time. But these things musn’t be rushed. However, I’m going on holiday again soon (Rome, with my mummy, if you must know!) so figured I should get these out of the way first and leave a creative space in my brain.
Thought I’d start, appropriately, with the hotel. We stayed at the Michelberger Hotel which is in Friedrichshain, right by the East Side Gallery. I don’t think I could recommend it highly enough. I, for one, cannot wait to go back. The ambience in the bar/lounge couldn’t have been more spot on – if I hadn’t been lured to venture outside by gin-fizz and the other delights Berlin had to offer, I’d’ve happily stayed put in the hotel the whole time. All the photos below are from in and around the Michelberger.
Ps. The book of booze. Have they met me?
We got back from Berlin last night. It took us a couple of days to get our heads round the place, but once we did there was obviously no going back. It’s hard to think of all that life still going on over there, in all our favourite places, while we’re back here. I can’t wait to go back. Obviously there’ll be a more comprehensive post soon and an onslaught of photos, but for now work is calling. No rest for the wicked.