This is the second instalment in a series entitled Uncover London in which I ditch travelling with a passport and backpack, and delve into the city’s hidden gems. The first place I explored, Island Gardens, was chosen at random from the underground map, and was selected based on its exotic and enticing name. This post is about my trip to Boston Manor, an area a dear friend and I passed through en route from Heathrow Airport. We were returning from an extremely colourful non-conventional wedding in Poland. My friend had been sat next to a ridiculously handsome man on the plane, with whom we continued our journey back into London on the tube. As we trundled through Boston Manor, I decided aloud that this would be the next location that I’d rove. The handsome man exclaimed that Boston Manor was “really boring,” and “apart from a dull high street, there was absolutely nothing to see.” That consolidated my choice, motivating me to counter his subjective observations by seeking to find beauty in banality.
Little did I know what I decided to next share with you would be about death. I guess that’s where the word tragedy really starts to make sense, as it imbues the depth of sudden loss. It also suggests the devastation and confusion that follows, as we try to fathom why our lives have suddenly been reminded of their fragility and impermanence, and forever marked by a loved one’s passing.
Trish was one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. We hung out together for the six months that I was in northern California, and although I didn’t know her well, she left an indelible impression on me. She filled every room, every space, with a brightness, which was both infectious and inspiring. She emanated love, compassion, understanding, patience and made you feel like the world was and could be harmonious and peaceful. She was sexy, sassy, naughty, cheeky and fun. She was a creator, a doer, and gave heartfelt hugs. We shared the same birthday, and joked about the trials and tribulations of being a Virgo. The last time I saw her, we hugged goodbye and she told me she loved me. I replied, “I love you too. See you soon.”
When people ask me why do you love Colombia so much, the answer is pretty straightforward: the people. I have only been here for just over two weeks, and haven’t ventured far out of two of the country’s major cities, Bogota and Medellin, so as yet I am unable to say how stunning the mountains, beaches or jungles are. But, one thing is for certain; Colombian people are some of the world’s very best.
So what is it about them that I am so enraptured by? Well, thus far, everyone I have met has been amorous, amiable and beyond accommodating. These words ring hollow in Cambria font and don’t give them the credit they deserve, so illustration through example may help to colour your imaginations. Continue reading