Duvet Fluffing Spawns Big Idea

The Man and I were making the bed. Specifically, we were shaking the duvet cover.

"Shaking" isn't quite the right word. "Fluffing up*" would be better. An up and down motion, and just before the duvet reaches the highest point of its trajectory, it slows down and seems to float the last moment up and then down until, with a snap of our forearms, we flick the duvet back into an upward motion. Kinda like when they would bring the parachute into PE** in elementary school. I loved it when we got to play with the parachute. All of us sitting around it in a circle, holding onto the edges, and following the PE instructor's instructions.

It must have been a weekend morning because we were obviously not rushed. As we shook the duvet awake for the day, we chatted. Idly. About this and that. Mostly about our growing grievances with The Smoke.

"The Tube is a goddamn rip off."

"The weather sucks."

"It takes planning and commitment to see anyone across town. No spontaneity."

"We don't have any real friends. You meet someone cool, hang out for a while, and then they fuck off."

"The Tube is a fucking rip off."

"London is a fucking rip off. It gouges you."

Smattered between the complaints were points of defense. All those reasons why we love London. The buzz. The history. The cultural opportunities. The fact that this is home. My home. I have lived in London longer than I have lived anywhere.

Our conversation wasn't a new conversation. We've had it almost since we moved here.

London is a fucking rip off. It sucks the pounds out of your pocket and you have very little to show for it (a coffee, a newspaper, a journey on The Underground, and that spare tenner you had in your pocket, it's gone).

London is a transient city. Cool and interesting people move here; those cool and interesting people leave here. You'll be lucky to get to know how cool and interesting those cool and interesting people are. London's geographical girth makes it hard to pop around for a coffee or a cry. Taking the time to get to know someone often means an hour on the Tube to the other side of town (you don't take a taxi because the city is already making enough of a dent in your wallet). Someone living on the other side of London might as well be living in Bristol or Birmingham. What I'm trying to say: it's a difficult place to make long lasting friendships.

The weather sucks. (This is always My Man's point; whilst the weather doesn't directly get to me, it does get to The Man whose state of mind very much gets to me. )

On this particular weekend morning as we shook out our duvet, the conversation took a new turn.

"We've always talked about going back to Madrid. What's keeping us here?***"

*A phrasal verb you don't hear everyday.
**Physical Education
***I was tempted to reply, 'my blog.'