It wasn't just a Bank Holiday Weekend. It was an anniversary.
Under the excitement about seeing friends and dancing to long awaited DJs lay slight trepidation. Not being a frequent visitor to South London, the last time I went to Clapham was exactly two years ago. As the bus took us through town and out again, my memory was jolted by the mundane.
There was the newsagent we'd stopped at to buy sweets (him, Fruit Salads; me, too hungover to contemplate food). There was the train station where we said goodbye after a night of no sleep; the road I'd distractedly taken a wrong turn down on the way back.
And as my friends and I walked across the Common on our way to the music-filled tents, there, through the trees, was the pub where me and him leant against the same bench, and met.
Was it just going to be a day of reminders?
The rain stopped and the sun came out. Day turned into dramatic sunset, and then it was dark. Stage lights flashed over thousands of people with their hands outstretched to the last remnants of pink sky. Basslines rippled through the crowd; me and my friends danced with our arms round each other, crouching down on the damp, trampled ground, and leaping up in time for the drop on command.
Encore done, our group headed for the exit, feet crunching under a carpet of plastic cider bottles. We split into two halves: those staying south, and those going west. Music drifted over from the pub, but my heart was thumping as we turned in the opposite direction, adrenaline making the journey we'd done by bus earlier now welcome on foot.
We headed west, stopping at a Shepherds Bush bar for a whisky and ginger ale nightcap; where our wellies and mud covered cardigans met a Notting Hill Carnival after party in full swing.
In 2009, I went to a festival, met a boy and had the perfect day.
In 2011, I went back with some friends and a slowly mending heart, and had an even better one.
This week things are changing. There's never been a better time to leave him behind.
9 comments:
Dear Lord, you never mentioned before that he wore cardigans. What WERE you thinking? ;-)
p.s. The word verification thing is "ctypo" which is like a typo...for typo... OK, maybe it's just me.
I'm glad. :)
Punctuation - Should perhaps have made it more clear in the post, now edited slightly for clarity. The cardigans were worn by me and my friends, not the ex. The post describes my day in 2011, not 2009 :)
Unpackingbooks - Your time will come too, miss x
This made me cry, a little.
You're a bit brilliant, you know.
I realised, when you commented on my post. But, y'know, I wasn't going to mention it if you weren't...
Your last sentence says it all :)
...and my boy wears cardigans. Please don't judge.
I'm glad you had a good time lovely (and I'm glad that heart of yours is healing!)
This post makes me optimistic for sad people everywhere.
I'm glad that you had such a good day, and I'm glad you're healing.
(Also, my boy wears cardigans too. I quite like it, even though I know I shouldn't.)
When you've had your heart broken, it's always good to revisit places where you created happy memories together and create even better memories that belong to only you. I would try a "You go girl" but I don't think I can pull it off with a Sussex accent :o)
Yay for 2011, mending hearts and fun friends :)
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