I know very well that I am clocking up the years which often proves to be the calculating culprit behind my little memory lapses so, I do beg your pardon dear reader should this question clang and clamour and rattle against your better side for the 3132th time but, do YOU believe in Destiny…?
Whilst you cartwheel your brain cells along the poser that I have requested of you let me brief and besiege every iota of composure you might have had before veering my way – for the male readers my deepest sympathies for your inability to multi-task but stop whining my unknown sir and pull your socks up! I can now begin! As many of you may have surmised by now, my heart is irreversibly conjugated to the airs and delights of the countryside. Seas of green, peasant birds regaling their pompous okra-thin tails on single tracks, narrow and squidgy with mud, rolling vales, clouds of dense woodland, the oblivious sedentary livestock of sheep and cows and, of course the lack of mobile phone reception, are all badges of ‘likes’ that I wear proudly on my chest in my showmanship of pride for the wilderness of the less travelled worlds that throb in the rhythms and rhymes of Mother Nature’s bosom. Here is the ivy-spangled poetry that I shall never be able to recreate.
Then why on earth am I tip-toeing across the city of London with rockets of mischief whizzing in my eyes? Why am I writing of and from one of the most hectic metropolitan hubs of our planet?! Well, as an unmovable adventurer I must be prepared for all quests, even those that do not align comfortably with my rustic tastes. After all, I ask you, how could we ever possibly designate anything worthy of the title ‘adventure’ if there was no delicious risk of it to propel us out of our comfort zones? Oh yes! I have caught the nod of agreement from you and, oh my, how you despise this definition of adventure because, there is a goal – a dream – bubbling away in your arteries which you pray for every second but it would seem that everyday what you yearn for moves a step away from you. Do not be so deceived, the mind can play tricks on you!
So why is the country girl in London? Because I believe that even in the most chaotic and alienating places, there is Love and it thrums its warm recognition of who I am with an embrace that I feel no one can see but only I. Take for example the photograph I submit below of a quaint and tiny independent shop lovingly made up to celebrate all things British, a paragon to the loyalties that people abide to round the clock in my country – namely tea, biscuits and, erm, more tea! Shopping has never been a pastime of much interest for me, however, the shop itself is a different matter. Ones that ooze with character, charm, history and buried secrets never fail to magnetise my feet towards their doors and into their dim-lit but boundlessly curious interiors and sellers that exude knowledge that has the mustiness of old library books.
The blood-red façade of the shop below was an instant hit for me since it is the colour I associate with the factory of the heart and it is also the beloved flower emblematic of my nation, the English rose. Do not get too settled with these explanations for they are simply the tip of the iceberg! It is the phrase, “Fancy that of London” which I would request you to turn your attention to. Does it sound like an odd phrase to your ear bones? Well, that would be no surprise. This is British colloquial for you, dear reader. Here, we say “fancy that…” to express surprise and awe over something or someone. For example, “fancy that he should declare his love for me in front of the children in class” translates as “the idiot is the most lovable idiot in the world because he saved his declaration of love for me until the day I’d be surrounded by 1010 innocent children and in front of whom aggressively retorting with a rejection would mean dealing with 1010 sad faces and thus, I’d have no choice but to say ‘yes’ – and oh what a cunning rascal he is!” So, there you are! Fancy that! So, in the context of our shop, the phrase can be interpreted as an exciting eulogy of the capital of my country, London.
“The blood-red façade of the shop was an instant hit for me since it is the colour I associate with the factory of the heart and it is also the beloved flower emblematic of my nation, the English rose…”
DESTINY, you ask? Whomsoever reads this post today will have written about or received a ‘capital’ today. No, I do not mean the business of capital letters but, the capital of countries and since the photograph depicts a shop I will, in addition, allow for capital as in when used to refer to financial assets. If you are a Facebook or Twitter user, look at your post and the comments of people beneath it. You or someone, has done as I have described above. Perhaps, as examples, they might be: ‘Fancy that of money?’, or, ‘Fancy that of Rome?’ Look closely, dear reader: do my words hold the test of your scrutiny? If you have none of these accounts then try and remember if you partook in a talk of cities today.
There is a Bonus Round! Should your ‘capital’ have a strong link to the location or phrases in my previous post – about the sunshine island of Guernsey – then YOU AND I ARE MOSTLY CERTAINLY CONNECTED. Why are you smiling….? Fancy that….!
Word of caution: ‘Baba Yaga’, the nasty old witch, will have her own answer for this one but the first syllable of the city that was uttered in her post or comments will be very telling of her heart – another British colloquial!
This is Mazzy of Bee-Bee-See News reporting from London! Put the kettle on, people…!
Photograph & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | London | UK 2014