�� - by acubaninlondon

Choose life. Choose love.

What do we want from life? Love.

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Choose life. Choose love.

Diary of a Separation

What happens when a 21-year #relationship, including a 20-year #marriage comes to an end?

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Diary of a Separation

Urban Diary

An Africa-shaped puddle greets me as soon as I pull into the car park. A remnant of last night's heavy rainfall, this is a reminder that we still have some (wet) autumn to hang on to, even if this year one of my two favourite seasons (the other one is spring) has faded away faster than before. This time I have chosen Tottenham Marshes as the location for this section. Because of the "urban" in the title of this regular column, I have made the mistake of writing more about metropolitan, inner-city London than the green one. Yet, the British capital has some of the most breath-taking outdoor areas, not just in Europe, but also in the world. Tottenham Marshes is an excellent example. The low wetlands sit on either side of the River Lee Navigation which runs from Hertfordshire, in the north and outside London, to the Thames in the heart of the city. There is a wealth of wildlife to find here, including voles and kestrels, the latter usually hunting the former. The nostalgia-tinted landscape owes more to a rural setting until the sound of the nearby fast-moving traffic reminds me that Watermead Way, a busy thoroughfare, is only twenty or thirty yards away. I spot the dipped headlights of passing cars through a gossamer curtain of trees on which a few yellow, auburn and orange leaves stubbornly remain. My drive up here turns out to be longer than my walk. I have, naively, gone out today wearing just a jumper and a hooded top. The temperature already feels winter-like and the wind picks up as I head for Tottenham Hale. I give up after a dozen steps. As I make my way back to the car park, I turn around and take a last, envious look at the surviving reddish-brown leaves that defy the near-arrival of December. Autumn's gone; winter's here.

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Urban Diary

Urban Diary: pre-autumn London

The sound of lawn-mowers eating up and belching out grass resonates in the air like a badly-conducted chorus. The dissonance is welcome, however. The sudden, almost simultaneous act of weeding our gardens amongst my neighbours responds more to urgency than willing agency. The ubiquitous presence of late-summer rain in the last few weeks has halted our ritual of fortnight grass-cutting. Like a long mane that has not been treated to its regular short-back-and-sides, trimming becomes more an act of desperation than an ornamental observance. I finish my garden chores before the others. I want to go for a run. The temperature is still pleasant, neither too hot as it was at the tail end of August, nor autumnal chilly yet. I do spot, though, low-flying, Dalmatian-like clouds with a grey so dark that you could dip a fountain pen in them and write your name on a blue sky that is fast becoming overcast. As soon as I finish my warm-up I set off. The cacophonous sound of the lawn-mowers fades away. In its place a beautiful spectacle opens up before me: I call it a pre-autumn urban display. One minute patches of the pavement are bathed in sunshine the next covered up in shadow. Further along, the industrial estate that borders my neighbourhood becomes an unintentional background for the first auburn/burgundy/hazel/russet hues. Autumn is not here yet, but it is already trying to break through the cracks on the walls. The scant light changes as a result of my motion and this causes the colours to which I am exposed become more or less intense. Pace, not speed, I keep reminding myself, as I suddenly feel the exertion of a long steep hill. I think of a camera but my eyes disabuse me of the idea pretty quickly. There is no better camera than the human memory when confronted by a sea of flowers that flanks me on either side and has benefitted from the recent rains. My path turns into road and switches back to pavement as I return home and the first drop falls on my nose.

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Urban Diary: pre-autumn London