about a boy

I’ve been waiting to feel inspired to write about my trip to England but I may very well be waiting until the cows come home because I’m too knackered lately to even string the simplest of sentences together, let alone follow a story through from beginning to end. And the truth is, this time it was all about a boy and I haven’t yet figured out what that means to me, which makes formulating it difficult.

Perhaps I also hesitate to share because it makes it feel trite and steals a bit of the magic and maybe some things are best left clandestine. Ah. But fuck it if we are not here to share our stories.  So I will begin typing with abandon… otherwise I risk forgetting events and censoring feelings that are currently raw and true and require documenting before time washes over everything and I start analyzing and categorizing and using logic to dissect every little inch of my heart.

Alors… without further ado, here is the anecdote of a Canadian girl and a British boy. It is part 3 of a trilogy that began here and continued here and currently has no ending.

It all began when Miss MacCrellish & Miss Chitnis came up for a visit in December. We, of course, talked about men as woman are wont to do. I told them about London Joe and how we were trying to meet in NYC in January but it all fell through and boo and hoo. To which Elizabeth said, why don’t you just ask him how he would feel if you came to see him for new year’s? And that is how the following string of texts was born:

Joe: I am in total and utter agreement. Let’s aim for beginning of Feb. Blimey that’s yonks off. Get planning baby. Damn I love a plan. We shall survive this!
Me: Just wondering…. how would you feel if I came to spend new year’s eve with you?
Joe: Oh how amazing would that be if you came over for NYE. I’m gonna be in Northumberland with the family. You are welcome to join. Well. I’d run it by the gang but sure it would be fine. Perhaps now the booze has worn off and you are rethinking your question. Hmmm
Me: No not rethinking. Was actually looking at the cost of flights this morning. Muy $$$. Ouch! Would you be willing to split the cost with me? (wink)
Joe: Hell yeah I’ll split the cost. Really, you wanna come to ol blighty for NYE? Are we totally crazy? Yup! Hurrah. Ok so I’ll call around this weekend just to test the waters etc. You look at prices.
Me: Yay! Honestly, I don’t want you to feel pressured. If it is awkward with family, I understand. All that really matters to me is that you said yes.
Joe: We’re on! We’re on! Thunderbirds are GO GO GO. Not awkward just sublime excitement. When are you arriving? Book it baby! Book it!

The ticket was booked immediately and before I knew it I was back in London with serious butterflies in my stomach.

There is so much to tell about my time in England. Like the fact that the butterflies flew out on an exhale the moment I saw him and he kissed me right then and there on the streets of London and didn’t stop until the moment I hopped in the cab the morning I left. And how the only way we could have gotten any closer to each other when we went to bed at night and woke in the morning would have been to melt into each other. And those fears of us getting on each others’ nerves?  Totally dissipated when I realized that I liked him more with each passing day.

The entire trip was amazing. We spent half the holidays at his uncle’s place (a 16th century rectory) in Northumberland and the other half in London. His  family was so welcoming and generous and lovely though they couldn’t resist taking the piss (something about the way we say “about” in Canada… yeah yeah. we say aboot.)  The English, they can’t help themselves, sarcasm is in their blood and though this naive Canadian girl hasn’t yet fully grasped the subtleties of English humor, I am quite capable of rolling with the punches and I’m always up for a good laugh.  Plus, in some strange way, it made me feel welcome… like I had made it into some secret society or was accepted into the clan.  An English right of passage, as it were.

Days were spent sledding behind his uncle’s house and swimming in a freezing cold river under a light snow (wearing mandatory wet suits for fear of death) and eating more meat than a pack of hyenas.  We went on a date here (he knew it would be right up my alley after a week of indulging) and took a long walk along Hadrian’s Wall to Sycamore Gap (the Robin Hood Tree from the movie Prince of Thieves) and plucked grouse shot by his uncle and snuggled while watching the BBC Life series and ate crumpets with honey and talked for hours while sipping whiskey in quaint pubs and strolled hand in hand on Brick Lane and stumbled upon the most amazing cemetery I have ever seen in my entire life and snapped photos along the canal by night and woke late every morning giggling under the blankets and and and….. the days went by so fast.

I feel like my heart was cracked wide open and I left a bunch of little pieces in London for Joe to pick up. He is keeping them safe until I see him again but this whole smitten thing (or something like it) is such a foreign feeling to me that I can’t quite make heads or tails of it. All I know is that I am back here in the land of aboot and left side driving and -20 degree winters, back in my world of greens and grains and long runs on the mountain and 40-hour work weeks and I’m not gonna lie to you… I miss the bugger.

Sigh.

I have no clue what the future holds but I know one thing for certain…. and that is this:

Years from now, when I am rocking my wrinkled 80-year old ass and arthritic bones on some porch with squeaking floorboards, I will remember these days as some of the best of my life.  And for that, I can’t help but feel grateful. This story may be tangled right now but I’ve weaved a hell of an interesting one and ultimately, that is all that matters.  I think Felix Gonzalez Torres said it best: “Above all else, it is about leaving a mark that I existed: I was here. I was hungry. I was defeated. I was happy. I was sad. I was in love. I was afraid. I was hopeful.”

Also… you can bet your ass that I am already working on the next chapter.