Lives Big & Small + Some London

Dailyish Dispatch #010

Content Warning: death of a child

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Thursday June 12
We take an Uber to Euston Station, talking to the driver about how expensive London is, how much traffic and construction is everywhere, and how, go figure, New York seems less expensive and less chaotic comparatively. My mom and I have been in London since Tuesday morning and to say it feels like we have been hemorrhaging money is an understatement.

But it’s been a fun couple of days in London proper. High tea at Fortnum & Mason and a wander through Liberty are about as touristy as we’re willing to get, opting more for strolls and popping into stores and a cheeky cocktail at The Ritz. We eat well: tomatoes on toast for breakfast, the tomatoes so fresh, images of the bucolic English countryside flash through my mind’s eye as I eat. For dinner one night I have a butter chicken dish that rich and savory without being oily or salty. It is one of the best bites of food I’ve ever put in my mouth.

A train station in Europe is one of my favorite places to be. We stand outside in the gorgeous temperate sunshine waiting for our track to be assigned. The journey from Euston Station to Birmingham is quick and easy, making only one stop. On the platform in Coventry there is a coffee shop that drips with a Wes Anderson kind of charm: beat up beige formica, a single counter offering tea and coffee, pizzeria style booths with their curved benches bolted in too close to the table. I imagine a grimy newspaper sitting on a table, patrons drinking their burnt coffee as they kill time or wait for a train or press pause on their day.

In Birmingham we check into our hotel, drop our stuff, and head across the street to the National Exhibition Centre. It’s our second year in a row attending the Gardener’s World Live flower/plant show and it’s fun to be back, knowing the ropes this time.

We stroll the gardens, have a glass of bubbles, dodge a quick rainstorm, take in a lecture, and listen to a band warble out sea shanties. For dinner we eat crappy pizza in the hotel, watching youths in costumes parade in and out, reveling in each other and community, and thrilled to be at the Anime convention also being held across the street.

Friday June 13
I surprise myself at how starstruck I am when I stumble upon the Happy Pear booth in the exhibition hall. Dave and Steve are there manning the booth, handing out vegan pesto and chatting everyone up. The Irish twins are vegans and fitness maniacs and healthy living advocates. They run a vegetable shop and restaurant in Greystones, a seaside town outside of Dublin. They swim in the sea at 5AM and run up mountains and want everyone to be able to put their shoes on standing up. I am too self-conscious to speak to them, happy to just buy a totebag and sample some pesto.

We eat Greek salads in the sun. And I manage to get a sunburn in England.

At the end of the day, I see a man my age with an older gentlemen leaving our seating area and hear the man say, “Really, thanks for today, Dad.” His tone is genuine and warm. His dad responds, “You’re alright mate.” It is the simplest, most heartwarming interaction.

Saturday June 14
On the train back to London I go in search of the cafe car, and tea and crisps. It is our last full day in England and we are heading to back to Euston to immediately leave London city for the leafy suburb of Richmond.

There is more traffic and it is a relief to leave the city. As we exit the taxi into an small side street next to the hotel-over-a-pub that we are booked into, we notice the heaving throng of pre-Rugby finals match revelers. How we are going even get near the door is beyond me. I am heaving luggage onto the cobbles, when a text from my boss flashes up on my phone. But I do not have time to be incensed when the words “tragically” and “killed” catch my eye.

One of our about-to-be First Graders, E, has been killed while riding his bike in the neighborhood. He was six and a half.

The tension between my racing heart / needing to respond to her, and pushing my way into the packed pub to find out where to check in because our cab driver won’t leave us until he knows we are in the right place, makes me shaky and fills me with the kind of nervous energy where you feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

The students don’t know me all that well. In my role as an administrator, I am a tall foreign object to most of them. At 5’4” I am tall only because they are tiny. Each morning I say hello to them as they arrive at school, and that is the extent of their knowing me.

But, all I can think about is how E started a trend of wearing two different color shoes. In a school with mixed age group classrooms, the older students provide guidance and aspiration for the younger ones. One day this past Spring, I saw one of the particularly tiny three year olds wearing mismatched shoes as he walked into school. He beams at me when I notice and say to him, “Oh wow look at you, dressing just like E!”

We check in but our room is not ready, so we store our belongings. We don’t have a plan, but I do know I need, momentarily, to get away from the tailgaters to center myself and see what needs to be done in the crisis communications arena. My mom and I wander aimlessly down the High Street. We spot a small alley with a pub and a park and outside seating. I connect with my boss and a colleague to sort out what needs to be done. Aside from needing me to send them an OTP, they have it covered knowing that I am out of the country.

It is another stunningly beautiful day. We visit the Ted Lasso pub and the green, we walk to the water and sit in the sun. Dinner is in the pub in our hotel. I order chicken Milanese and broccoli. It is some of the best broccoli I’ve ever had.

Sunday June 15
We leave for the airport early. The pub is silent and it is an odd thing to be in a bar at 6:30 in the morning when no one is in there. Standing outside waiting for the taxi, a gorgeous breeze hints at what another phenomenal weather day it will be. We are both sad not to have one more day.

Cliches about living every day like it’s your last and youjustneverknow rattle around in my skull as I watch episodes of The Office and try to sleep on the flight back to New York.

My husband picks us up from the airport. It is good to be home.

It is Father’s Day, and to be honest, I ignore it.

Monday 16 June
I have to mute my boss’ text messages. Because she is being inundated, she inundates me, firing off texts every few minutes every time she thinks of something else. There are emails and resources that need to be sent out, but she is also frying my nervous system. Stressful situations at work are made so much more stressful when you work with people who simply refuse to breathe or use email or pause or have boundaries.

Tuesday 17 June
A funeral for a six year old is the most harrowing thing most of us will experience. There is no nervous banter while people greet each other and find seats. There is no relieved chatter after the service. There is only silence and guttural sobbing and more silence.

But the rabbi said something beautiful about our young friend: if you asked E to tell you the people he loved and enjoyed most in this world, he would have listed himself. And, he would have been pretty upset, if when asked the same question you didn’t also list yourself as one of your favorite people.

It is one of the most moving and heartbreaking things I have ever heard.

Wednesday June 18
My phone is fast filling up with screenshots of Instagram hacks, inspirational quotes, and strategy ideas.

I have a beautiful life that I am exceedingly grateful for. But co-existing with that is the desire for a bigger, wilder, more fearless existence. With professional autonomy and financial freedom and creativity and launch dates and offerings and release days.

I am chafing and flailing under the yoke of being surrounded, professionally, day in and day out by people whose view of the world is so so narrow, answering to a schedule / style of Careering that feels enervating rather than invigorating.

But it is time. Time to go for it. Time to not care what other people think. Time to evict the voice in my head that whispers, “Who do you think you are?” Because I know who I am. And I am ready. And we are doing the damn thing.

The butter chicken heard around the world.