London, a dress, Emily Henry, chocolate

nice things for Friday

My Dining Room by Wassily Kandinsky, 1909, on display at the Expressionists exhibition at Tate Modern. I didn't think I liked Kandinsky but this one is near the top of paintings I’d like to own.

I’ve been in London for a few days. I had a lovely time trotting about, and MY GOD how nice it is to hear millions of languages and see people from millions of different places. Beloved rural England is a total freakshow in this respect and it grinds my gears.

It’s strange, though, to see ‘my’ London - it was my home for 45 years - change as quickly as it does. I walked around central and remembered exactly what used to be where - the names of all the little shops, bars, cafes, restaurants. I observed what they’ve changed into with slight sadness (and occasionally enthusiasm, to be fair. But not often). In the nine years since I moved out, places that used to be edgy and fun are now stolidly prosperous and fat-sleek, and yet there isn’t really a feeling of contentment - more of something dying slowly. If I was being melodramatic I would say the dying thing is London’s spirit, bought and sold to the highest bidder so that nobody young or creative or interesting can be there anymore. Also the shops all have 2 things in them because you’re only going in to have a look before buying online.

It’s still great, obviously - it’s London! it’s amazing! - but to me the energy of it is not what it was. It’s probably moved to the furthest reaches of the tube line.