Trembling

I woke up in the middle of the night with a low rumbling noise and the bed shaking. It was the weirdest thing ever. I had no idea earthquakes were so noisy. I knew immediately what it was and got pretty scared. The blinds were visibly moving and everything was rattling. It must have lasted long because I had time to wake up, stand and walk to the window. In fact, I should have instead followed the safety procedures and ducked under the table.
It took me a while to fall asleep again. I am really a fearful person, I always think the boiler is going to explode, the plains I travel in are going to crash and every strange sound means there are burglars in my house. Now I have one more thing to add to the list: my house is going to collapse. Tonight I am going to put water and biscuits under the table just in case.

Clumsy me!

Every time I go to Chichester I fall down the stairs! I don’t know how I do it, but I always end up falling. At the train station there’s this huge colourful sign telling me to be careful because the stairs are worn out and slippery. The first time I was going down, carrying my suitcase and holding a newspaper and suddenly, ups, I smack my bottom on the steps. I didn’t even have time to understand what was happening. This old man looking quite amused asks if I hadn’t seen the sign. What about asking if I am ok? The second time I fell going up, which was not so bad because my foot just slipped and I could get hold of the handrail. Yesterday, once again, and I am pretty sure on the exact same spot, I fell. It is so embarrassing! Why me? I will never take those stairs again.

Portuguese enclave

The other day we went to South Lambeth, a neighbourhood full of Portuguese bars, restaurants, shops and bakeries. It was great fun, not only because we ate “bolinhos de bacalhau” and drank “Sagres”, but mostly because of the experience of doing social tourism. We went to Estrela Bar, where we had a delicious meal and observed manuels and marias coming for a “bica”, a chat and watch TV. Yes, because there’s no decent Portuguese bar that doesn’t have at least one screaming TV on. The manuels wearing colourful shirts showing their hairy chest and a golden chain. The marias wearing clothes two sizes too small and too much makeup and perfume. Some things never change. The customers arrived in their sports pimped cars or on their flashy motorbikes, stopped in front of the terrace, accelerated making as much noise possible and then went to look for a parking place. This way you guarantee everyone has seen you. I couldn’t avoid listening to this lady talking on the mobile complaining about the draughts that made her feel so ill and talking about someone they knew (“ai estas correntes de ar que me dao cabo da saude” e “nao quero estar aqui a falar mal de ninguem, mas essa rapariga… nao quero dar opinioes, mas sabe como e’, a rapariga nao tem emenda”). It was a genuine Portuguese place, in all aspects: food, waiters, customers, decoration, smell and atmosphere. So Portuguese, I loved it and S. too.
We are for sure going back not only to buy some Portuguese delis but to make sure I don’t forget my roots.

Royal Mail

This Christmas I sent all the presents to my family by mail, a big heavy box, full of nice wrapped gifts. I mailed it two weeks before Christmas but as one month later it hadn’t been delivered, I went to the post office to complain. I got a form I was instructed to fill out, attach the original receipts and then send it by mail to Customer Service, which I did. I never got a reply from the Customer Service and do you know why not? They didn’t receive my complaint! Long live the Royal Mail!

Londres primeiro estranha-se, depois entranha-se

Chronically tired

A friend once told me: “You are always tired”. Apparently when I am asked about how am I doing, I very often say: “I am tired”. I felt a bit embarrassed because I have a relaxed life, why should I feel tired all the time? The truth is I do. I get tired if I don’t sleep eight hours a night, if I am in a noisy environment, if I don’t spend enough time alone and if I don’t eat well. I am weak and I look grey. From that day on I started paying more attention to other people’s lives, like one of my work colleagues who has three kids and who I never heard complain. Even more, she is always smiling. How does she do it?
I have a lot of respect for working mothers (and some working fathers). After a day at work all I want is a nice dinner and some silence. I guess mothers don’t get much of it. Like they often do not get enough sleep and that would just kill me. I can’t even imagine travelling with kids, carrying toys, food, clothes, looking for a toilet and making sure they don’t get lost. It is not an easy life and social pressure does not help much as mothers are made to feel guilty about their decision to continue working and made to feel guilty if they decide to stay at home. Heartless career makers versus no ambition.
Once, in the train, a man made a nasty remark about a woman that was putting on makeup, she stood up and said that she’s been up for more than 2 hours, she’s been running around, showering, dressing up and feeding the kids, preparing lunch boxes and planning dinner, and therefore she feels entitled to try to make her face look less tired in the train, her only quiet moment of her day. I felt like clapping and the man felt embarrassed.

Time is a measure of change

I am not enjoying aging. Physically I mean. Wine should age, not me! It all started when I realized I couldn’t eat as much as I used to, not only because I would put on weight but mostly because my stomach just couldn’t take it anymore. Then I started having difficulties reading small or far away signs. I know I should wear glasses not in my handbag but on my face. Then there was the shock of accepting I can’t wear low waist jeans anymore. Soon enough my teeth will start falling and if that happens it will be a complete disaster. The other day I looked at my face very close in the mirror and I saw lots of tiny little wrinkles, I also inspected my hair, luckily no grey hair yet. I compared recent pictures with pictures taken ten years ago, it is still the same me but a younger me. How come I didn’t notice my skin and my body changed? It must have happened very slowly during the night. I feel like time is going by faster as I grow older and can’t keep track of changes any longer. As S. would say, it’s all downhill from now on.