The sound of silence

Have just made it. This morning, when I finally managed to prise myself from underneath the sheets and into the bath, I promised myself that I would be home and in bed the same day. Much like cinderella, but with marginally less stress. So I am in bed and drinking tea, reflecting on the day and listening to the sound of London. I would expect to hear people, cars, sirens, buses. What I can actually hear is the sound of an occasional black cab driving down Gloucester Avenue whilst the church bell chimes midnight. The people upstairs move around softly and the water tank refills. Some nights, I hear footsteps along the pavement outside and muffled, comforting conversation as neighbours return from an evening out. Now, an engine idles outside and then turns off. Doors open, close and high heels tap up the steps. A key turns and a door slams and then it is peaceful once again. A few minutes later the sleeper train from Euston to somewhere northern passes along the railway track and another taxi can be heard softly, a door bangs and someone else is returning home; there are more footsteps, laughter and then silence falls once again. This is one of the things I love so much about Primrose Hill - it is quiet and dark and I can sleep easily. Sirens do not blare past the door every few moments, as they did in my previous flat near London Bridge, where the orange street light glow penetrated even the darkest curtains and fighting, shouting people crowded past my window. It's London, but not as you know it.

Spent the evening in a little Italian restuarant in Angel with C, A and J. Cheap but good pasta, wine and a free lemoncello with the bill, as the other girls know the manager. A lovely girly evening and not too drunk. Not like yesterday's antics. Met TJ after work for a couple of pints to celebrate his new job before heading to the art exhibition. And then out for a meal afterwards, just like old times. TJ, M and I, eating curry and getting drunk, spending hours discussing religion whilst the poor waiter just wanted us to finish eating so he could go home. And then to work, and then work again, and then, finally, Friday evening and the work Christmas Party. At which we are reminded that the usual standards of dignity and behaviour apply. I can hardly contain my excitement. Especialy since the dress code is 'smart/casual - the sparklier the better'... But one never knows, and the drinks are free. Perhaps it will be great.