The ordinaryness of it all

I find it really bizarre, but I can’t seem to get my head around the fact that I am living in London.

I live in London, UK. The City. The big one. The tourist destination that I have dreamed of visiting all my life. And I live IN it. And it is such a non-event. I can’t process the fact. I keep doing a double-take and thinking “Wow. I’m in London”, because in reality, it’s just like any other city. I could be in Sydney or Melbourne on a cloudy day.

Sure, the variety of accents provides a constant jarring note. You’re never quite sure what vowel and consonant combination will come out of anyone’s mouth. I’ve heard so many varieties of English here it’s astounding, and the weirdest of them are from native English speakers.

But most of the time I only consciously think “Oh, that’s right, I’m in London” when I see an iconic building or a theatre. Normal everyday walking to and from work or getting a sandwich at lunch is so ordinary I could be at home. Then I get this double-take feeling, like someone has just punched me in the stomach or hit me on the head, and I think “Wow!”

So very strange.

I feel very weird about it. The whole thing could be such a non-event if I’m not careful. I’ve got to shake things up a bit I think. Like going overseas and trying new things, maybe even trying a new job just to scare myself or join a dance club or choir or a theatrical troop.

Something darnit. Things feel too ordinary to be this bizarre.