All grown up and nowhere to go

the angel of Islington

Posted on: January 18, 2009

Am reading Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. It’s an intriguing novel with a lovable main character in itself, but since the setting is London, both normal London and a rather twisted, upside-down version of it, I loved the book all that much more.

I went to google for the tube map and as all the familiar stations flash before my eyes I was overcome with wanderlust.

I’m intrigued by places such as London, and Hong Kong. Lights and Chinatown and rude joustling and life. Winter time, and people are wrapped in layers and coats, lint hanging of them, poking out with static. Wintry, visible breath and Starbucks and Pret a Manger around the corner. Buses chugging into vision, efficient and on time. The crowded underground tubes / trains / trams, interlinked and confusing, stopping every 3 minutes with a halt in consecutive stations which are of walkable distance from each other.

I don’t know what it is about these places that beckons to me. I just know that I have to go there again, sooner rather than later. And thanks to Neil Gaiman, I will dream tonight of “mind the gap”.

I am, in a rather weird way, happy. My current rotation is in a place where I feel not necessarily comfortable but sufficiently intrigued. In fact, I can’t imagine ever doing anything else that would feel as exhilarating. I WANT to move on to be one of those dealers, quoting currencies and locking in revenues in mere seconds. There is a rhythm and a hum in the dealing room, as if it were alive in itself, an entity made up of shouts of “dollar yen”, “expiring options to be exercised”, and “fuck that first level of support”.

It made me that little bit scared every time I enter the room, scared and small. Kind of like how cities like London make me feel. But it’s a bit like going into the swimming pool. The first contact is always cold, uninviting; then you force yourself in all the way and find it’s not so bad after all. In fact, you’re swimming and the water buoys your body upward and life’s a joy. Then you get out, shivers, tested the water again and it’s cold again, so it always feels like the first time, everytime.

I want that, and I want the world.

And I want Waterloo.



2 Responses to "the angel of Islington"


yeah waterloo is such a romantic place 🙂

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