It’s early, on a very wet, cold April morning. I’m outward bound and climb aboard our London train to find my reserved seat. Someone is sitting in it….she has a deck of tarot cards in her hands and is laying them out. I decide to let it go and sit down beside her - I’d booked a window seat. The GWR voice tells us that reservation lights have been switched off as the earlier train was cancelled and our train would be carrying extra passengers. Aaaah, now I understand and settle in.
Further down the line, (I have tea and cake now), a youngish woman takes the last seat at our table. Trendily dressed in an understated way. She boards at Oxford and since she took up her seat, her presence has been felt by a series of noises, nervy movements, repeated loud clicking open/shut/open/shut of a large metal water cup. She sniffs incessantly. Dry coughs intermittently, tapping and clicking with an almost ‘drug fueled’ type of energy on her lap top. I say this because I’ve seen people high on speed (quite literally) and it’s always noticeable. Her large bag fills the space beneath the table. It sits on my own. A long leg is stretched out into the aisle. Retracted. Extended. Retracted. So it goes on. Her laptop sits centre table with the top almost resting on my cup… There is an aggressive quality in her body language. A loud exasperated sigh is uttered. Some exemplary nose blowing and on we go to Reading. I’m not annoyed by her, but definitely an auditory observer. Curious. Did she drink a crate of Red Bull for breakfast? Her energy is exhausting and I wonder about what she’ll do in London today?
The train is busy. The cancellation means we are heavily subscribed. Carriage C is full. People tapping away. Plenty of scrolling. Some napping and some quiet chat. The tarot cards are boxed away and my neighbour doses peacefully. The reading must have been a good one.
I love train journeys. It fascinates me that so much has been said about ‘man spreading’ and I find I have it all going on across from me at our table, in female form. Have we progressed? It’s no less offensive and inconsiderate from a member of my own sex. She is oblivious and holds all the space like Bodicea guarding a won territory. I can see the man beside her is squished up against the window. We’re both giving peace a chance, it starts here with the small things.
I’m on my way to meet with an old school friend. We’re going to the Yoko Ono exhibition at the Tate. Love this kind of day. No commitment other than the pleasure of good company, an enduring friendship, plenty of tea and the potential for art to do it’s work. Make a mark.
When I was young and John Lennon was my favourite Beatle, I took a bit of a dislike to Yoko. At the time, there was a lot of negative press about her and her impact on the Beatles. No one wanted the group to split up, but split they did and to some extent she was blamed… in fact what was really happening, John, Paul, George and Ringo were growing up. Finding their way as individuals and she was John’s step into a different life. He moved on with her and they, together, orchestrated the peace movement. Largely misunderstood at the time. She was an artist then, already well-established in her own right, but the West was largely uninterested and scorned her and their activity. I can see now why he fell in love with with her and am ashamed of my own youthful shallowness.
I, too, have matured. Read more about her as a woman, an artist, an activist. Her modest assertive way of representing herself. No aggressive kick back to the ugly way she’s often been treated. No kick back at all. Clever Yoko. I am excited to go to her exhibition and hope that older age enables me to really draw from her art, something that may provoke and develop my human spirit. I want to give peace a chance.
We’re getting closer to Paddington. The rain hasn’t quite stopped, I find my lovely friend waiting at the information point and we go first for coffee and a catch up. She looks wonderful. I still see her as auburn, a red head, even though she’s totally grey like me. It’s a joy to meet up. We talk like we’ve not been apart. Mixing up the surface chat with deeper subjects. It flows happily, conversationally and we both know how to listen.
This is London and the sun shines. A walk, tube, more walk, a bridge and we’re at Tate Modern. There is an awesome quality to the scale of this space. I feel like a new born. We find our way to the 2nd floor and our experience begins. It is impossible not to feel a response to it. The wishing tree in the foyer before entering, pushes a lump to my throat. People’s handwriting on scraps of paper. The lump remains lodged there as we explore each room, sometimes rising to push tears to eyes. It’s overwhelming and I rise and fall on a whole emotional ride as I participate in the viewing. It’s black and white. Powerful. Difficult at times and very beautiful
I’d recommend to go and see it. I need to go back. Halfway through I found my body aching, it’s tiring and intense in there. She has created an atmosphere in which you’re not entirely comfortable. We both needed to sit down and get lunch and then, sadly, it would be time for my train. There were two more rooms to do but we’d run out of time. As we walked through to exit, there is an installation, a long wall of notes all stuck to the wall with brown tape - each one contains a comment about that particular individual’s mum. It’s exceptionally moving. I think of my own mum and mentally place her there. My own love statement. The simplicity of it is an intentional brilliance and means you are free to feel it, add yourself to it.
We head to the members bar and enjoy a delicious lunch with a view of London stretching out before us. I’m filled up with the extravagance of this day. It pours itself over me and out of me. We continue to talk as we walk back across the city to Paddington. Gale force winds on the bridge are alarming and exciting, we laugh like school girls, holding onto each other for ballast. We really have to battle to get across and not end up in the Thames. A Girls Own adventure or sort of…..l
My train is in and boarding. We part with a hug and a kiss. Her suggestion for our next adventure….Paris… hopefully. I find my seat and again someone is sitting in it even though the reserved sign is on. He’s a heavy built Afro Caribbean guy - again I sit opposite. Give peace a chance. He wants to chat and turns out to be a lovely man. Tony. The time goes quickly, we solve the world’s problems and all too soon I’m getting off at my station. BB is waiting in the car park and we go home. I’m shattered but exceptionally happy. A good day. As Andrew Scott said in a recent interview for The Sunday Times “We go through so many different types of emotional weather all the time. And even on the saddest days of your life you might be hungry or have a laugh. Life just continues.” I couldn’t agree more. Till the next time.
A
You are inspiring.. I haven’t been down to London for a good few years, but I feel that might change .. thanks Alice
Sounds like a wonderful day 😘