The Apron
This morning I discovered a beautiful architectural icon in the city of Westminster. I walked there with S. My back is in really bad shape, even with daily walks in the park; I definitely need to get back into swimming. There is no excuse, at the beginning of this brand new year. I need to start immediately, a blank page and accompanied with fresh enthusiasm .
We walked* and passed the BBC buildings and head into Regent Street. Content and somehow lost in her morning glory. What a wonderful start of the weekend; together with my sweet S, my freshman at medicine, S did what she wanted to do, she came and saw and conquered and I am a proudly mother. The magnificent architecture of Regent Street, the beautiful buildings, the white plastered facades.
We take the corner with the art and craft building of Liberty. Which wooden structures recall another era. The neighbourhood is still sleepy and seems unconscious of the crowd that will soon gather in the streets around for another day of winter-sale shopping. I love the desolate and peaceful.
While we leave Regent Street behind onto our way towards the sports-center we stroll through Carnaby Street.
I was only a small child myself when my father brought me an apron from London. An apron decorated with the Union Jack and the name Carnaby Street,b printed in dark blue capital letters. A plastic apron which I treasured and wore in the kitchen alongside my grandfather when he was baking. So funny that I came to live in London many years later and I decided to follow my intuition, my dreams and to attend the
Cordon Bleu
. I wore another apron this time now, with the epic
Cordon Bleu
initials. My love for baking was partly nurtured by my grandfather, he worked as a young teenager in a patisserie in Amsterdam. My very early memories from baking are all related to this man.
The pool is thirty meters lengths. The high ceilings in the pool area and the architectural curbed steel structure are precious examples of the
wonders and skills of a flamboyant mastering of the architecture in the early thirties of the last century. The light blue paint, the snow frozen white ornaments give the interior it's majestic allure. A bronze sculpture depicting a baby with a fish tail, placed in a small marble bath tub, seems to overlook the athletes in the pool. The pool has been renovated and reopened in 2010. I feel so good after this first swim in the new year. I didn't do any practice since my last swim in the end of August in Cassis. I find it again and again so difficult to adapt to indoor activities. Today I feel totally satisfied and thanks to S who took me and convinced me to start swimming again. The energy level of the youth is to me the best I can relay on. Such a great gift to be around them.
When I watch the girls, I see how they pick many good things, stick to a discipline, implement a natural rhythm and a few daily routines.
Discipline becomes a natural tool where one enjoys the day in a more relaxed way. I become jealous of all those friends running and training, and I know it is unfair. I laugh those feelings away and know my friends were right from the start: stay to you discipline and make it work.
When we catch up in the hall after S's row training and my swim we walk home and see how Christmas decorations are taken down.Christmas season is definitely coming to an end. The branches, in the back of a pick-truck, still smell strong and we're secretly happy to keep our tree up until the 6th of January. The Epiphany the celebration of The Three Kings! Not before tasting the sweet flavour of
Le gâteau du Roi
shall we finish our celebrations.
*We have been walking since the summer of 2012. After a considerable foot print in Rabat, Morocco we are happy that we use public transport instead of driving cars. And honestly most of the time we walk! It is interesting how I was totally shocked in the beginning being transformed in the role of pedestrian... literately after so many years, decennia of cars and being a driver myself in the crazy traffic of Beijing, the rural driving in Cassis, the ultimate polite Swiss driving-behaviour and the audacious and aggressive Rabat circulation.... it was hard to change roles adapt to the role of a vulnerable pedestrian ... crossing over and not knowing where the cars came from in the beginning of our London adventure, I felt most of the time terrified and panicked. When weeks went by , came back my natural feeling to walk and now in our fourth year in the city I can only say that it is the greatest thing: no cars, no parking issues, no car-keys to loose and happy to give a little bit back.
