Leaving the City
A couple of somewhat related thoughts on children and London.
Hay, and a clean stall
And ivy on the garden wall
And a sign saying sold
And an old coat for the bad cold
I believe in you
Do you believe in me?
What do you want to do?
Are we leaving the city?— Joanna Newsom, Leaving the City
I woke up not feeling too great. This is an honest and open letter.
My wife, Chie chan, received a new book the other day which is a guide to gardens in London. Written in Japanese, she got it from work for us to flick through and get some inspiration from — gardens to visit, planting ideas and the like. It's a wonderfully made book full of gorgeous photos of community gardens, allotments and beautiful spaces in London. It also features plenty of photos of people's personal gardens in the city. And what's immediately obvious is that these are huge gardens for a city where almost everyone answers, if you ask them whether they have a garden, "Yeah I do but, y'know, it's tiny because it's London." Apparently I've never met one of the people in this book!
Anyway, flicking through the pages, it was full of gorgeous showy gardens, all colourful, lush and green in the height of summer and there are gorgeous roman statues, lovely old watering cans, lively ponds and a bunch of photos of children playing, painting and drinking tea in the gardens that probably feel gigantic to them. Upon seeing these photos I was instantly taken back to the feeling of being a kid and thinking that my grandma's garden was never-ending. Always something new to discover with endless bushes and shrubs to hide in. Spider webs to get tangled in. Worms to unearth.
And it was this last bunch of photos, the children, that filled me with happiness and sadness in equal measure. Happiness because it's such a lovely thought that these children get the chance to grow up surrounded by all of this beauty and I'm sure their parents take great pride in sharing the beauty of the world with them. But I felt sadness because I want exactly that and I'm worrying that I may never have it.
I want to take my child to gardens and show them around and teach them about the world. I want to show them nature and the beauty of the world and play in the garden together. I want to take pride in showing them the beauty of England and Japan. I'm 37 next month and still struggling with this. Still struggling to have a child and that can lead to feelings of not quite knowing who I am. But after a few years of living in London, one thing has become glaringly obvious and that is that I'm not London. I'm not big city and for the last 7 years, against my better judgement I guess, I've forced myself to live in a big city. First Tokyo (because it's where all the jobs are!) and now London (because it's where all the jobs are!). And I thought Tokyo didn't suit me because it wasn't green enough and I had a bit of trouble fitting into the culture. I thought London would be a good antidote to that because it certainly is green enough and I've lived in London before whilst studying at university. But after a while, the same thoughts that this isn't quite me return.
Trying to fit into all of the hustle & bustle and ultimately feeling guilty for not partying every weekend and keeping my finger on the pulse of what's going on in the city. Worried that I'm not visiting enough art galleries on my days off or lining up for all the new bakeries, pizza shops and cafes. I'm chasing a life that I feel I should be living rather than listening to my heart to discover what I actually want. Wasn't it Joseph Campbell who said that if the path before you is clear, you're probably on someone else's? That's sort of what I feel like living in London. I haven't thought much about what I want my path to be.
The boat is also limiting physically and mentally. It's taken me quite a while to quite be honest with myself on that one. I've really tried to make it work but in the end it just doesn't. It was never meant to be more than a stop-gap between places. But 'just for a little while' is turning into 4 years awfully quickly. I tried to love boat life and don't get me wrong, there are so many things I deeply appreciate — I love living by the river and walking along it every day, I love seeing ducks & swans outside of the windows, visiting the parks and the quiet moments here and there in this city but ultimately it's the noise, the people, the prices, the very real fear of crime; it's all slowly driving me crazy. It's death by a thousand cuts!
I think I need to move to the countryside..
As I wrap this up, I’d love to know if there’s anyone reading this who has been through a similar feeling or experience? Did you move from the city to somewhere a little more quiet? How did it turn out? Please let me know down in the comments.
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SJF
I connected very easily with the emotions you have noted in your lovely piece! I have also lived in London as a student, moved back home to New Delhi (because that’s where the jobs are!), secretly longed to go back to London, and then moved to the Himalayan countryside after feeling drained. I’m still looking for a stable remote job but I don’t regret any of this. I can only suggest that if your impulse tells you that living in the city is not for you, trust it. Everything else will fall into place :)