I am sitting in first class on the Eurostar on my way to Paris crying my eyes out, thank god its an almost empty train. Tears of such happiness and gratitude that they just have to flow.
I have always been quite solitary in nature, I am an introvert that in the true sense of the word finds being around other people saps my energy. Throughout my teenage years and early 20’s I had two or three close friends that I could share my soul with and that was enough for me.
When I moved to London I kept on being my normal solitary self. I spend weekends on my own, I go to restaurants by myself and I thoroughly enjoy it. I was lucky that two of my best friends moved to London at the same time as me, so I still had my little circle. With them I shared my awe at this beautiful city, my heartache at being so far from home and the laughter at everything in between.
But somewhere along the line something changed, at the ripe old age of 26 I have ended up with such amazing people around me, such a caring community that I am crying on the Eurostar.
When I published this post about home sickness it was me purging the bad emotions; inhale the good shit, exhale the bad shit. Within half an hour of posting I had missed calls, comments, tweets, Facebook messages and a Snapchat all offering support. People care. Friends care. Strangers on the internet care. There were offers of cocktails, commiserations and shoulders to cry on. No words could describe how loved I felt. For someone who has always relied on my family and a few friends, having this wave of support broke me down and made me smile for days.
The night before I went to Paris my bank found suspected fraud on my bank card. Thankfully no money was taken but it did mean they cancelled all my cards only a few hours before I was meant to go to a foreign country. I felt instantly alone. If I were here with a boyfriend I would have a backup in these situations. If I were at home, I know my parents or sister would be by my side in a heartbeat. But on the other side of the world? I didn’t want to ask friends for money…but turns out I didn’t have to.
Before I even finished venting my anger at the bank my workmates had given me a bank card to use, offered a bank account in case I needed to transfer money and bought me a Disneyland ticket. When I posted on Facebook about my debacle I had tweets to make sure I was ok and my amazing girls asking if there was anything they could do. Then because I was a little ball of stress a friend bought me dinner, and since I had spent all my planning time getting angry at a bank someone planned a Paris itinerary for me.
I don’t write this to skite about my situation. I know exactly what it’s like to feel alone in London. I just want to share my awe, gratitude and love for the people I have around me. This post does not do it justice; I would put up a video of me crying on the Eurostar, but…well…no.
So instead I will build you all a castle in the sky. In my dreams I would invite you all to cocktails in a hotel room at the top of the shard. We would do our hair and nails while laughing about the crazy city that is London and trying to outdo each other’s horrific public transport stories. We would walk down the Thames on a warm Spring night to the London Eye to watch the lights of our city from another point of view. We would finish at Dinner by Heston, where I would have far too much wine (after falling in love with at least one waiter) and tell you all what you mean to me. Then we would have the infamous Tipsy Cake, take selfies in front of a monument or two and go home with our hearts full.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.