Walking

The rain makes everyday life more dramatic somehow. As it pours down hard on the road, the cars slash past me, hurtling heavy water onto the pavement, which in turn slices the dirty liquid up onto the shoes of passersby.

It was 8.30 and I was on my way to work, walking speedily from Lancaster Gate through Queensway, onto Nottinghill and then finally reaching my destination; Holland Park. My temporary offices sat on the corner by the greying Hilton Hotel in an even greyer building bloc, the windows of which were covered in a layer of West End waste. In fact, as you opened them from the inside, they’d let out a gasping creek as if pleading with you to wipe them clean.

It was a simple straight line that walk- everyday- and I liked the routine of it. I took pleasure in knowing exactly when each district crossed into another and would memorise which shops sat on the border of each. As I passed through one section to the next, I would imagine I was a powerful working woman, sharply striding through the infamous blocks of New York, wearing a killer pencil skirt and carrying a maroon Mulberry handbag.

At about 8.40am, I’d see the same lady flushed in the face, jogging past with her backpack swaying violently side to side against her small body, shortly followed by the hurried Mother, chaperoning her two uniformed kids to school. I noticed in fact that almost all the children who attended the Nottinghill Primary had brightly coloured scooters, which the parents used to ride back once they’d dropped them off. You’d always see the childish delight in a Mother’s face once she’d waved goodbye and hopped onto the scooter, pushing herself forward and propelling down the street like it were her only moment of freedom that day.

A common habit I had was to glance at my reflection in the same blacked out Thai restaurant window, and persuade myself that I was going to get a pedicure in the small tanning shop and buy an old record from the shop that proceeded it. I never did though. Every morning I’d also think about what I wanted to achieve that day, feeling more empowered with each step I took; as if the earth’s energy were somehow passing up into my body from the depths of the pavement.

It felt great to walk, it really did, even if it was on the main road and my lungs suffered because of it. Just to be away from the hot, sticky tube and have 30 minutes to myself was liberating, even without a scooter.