I'm writing from Copenhagen, where I've been the last few days. England was wonderful, so familiar and so much a part of who I am all these years later. But there's something so amazing about being in a country where you don't speak the language. Where all the traditions and ways of doing things seem different and interesting. It's good to have space to think too. I stayed at a nice hotel when I landed, and am now settled in a cheap but brilliant AIR BNB in the Norrebro district. I had dinner with my old friend Anne last night. She has two children under four, another on the way, works full-time as a lawyer and met me at a very hip local bar, on her bike, in spite of the rain. Six months pregnant and already put the others down to bed and nothing but a smile for me. I don't know how she does it. It was so lovely to see her, we had big bowls of mussels and fries with aioli and lots to say.
Today I went for a big walk, had a brilliant latte at the Collective roasting house, bought way too much good stuff at HAY, and am now reading my book at a cafe near the university library, drinking a gooseberry soda (of course). They've been playing Blossom Dearie for the last hour which feels pretty wonderful. I'm trying to make time to just sit and be, to be present and allow my mind to wander and dream and create. I have a bad habit of doing too much in my real life, so time like this feels special. Important.
I'm having dinner with my friend Leonard later, and his new GF who I can't wait to meet. He lives in Sweden, but near to the bridge and Copenhagen. He's one of the friends I message most days, share articles and music with, confide in and laugh with. I can't wait for real life hugs and beers and proper talks.