Thoughts Become Things

My London Adoration bracelet was re-spaced and now? from one end to the next I have:



A Double Decker Bus. The .925 is the back licence plate. Adorable.




The Houses of Parliament with an oversized Tower-which-houses-Big-Ben.




Policeman's Helmet (Bobby's Hat) which even has an ER on the Shield.




St Christopher. The Patron Saint of travellers. Can't hurt.




A Squirrel!




St Paul's Cathedral.




City of London Shield.
The centre, the focus of the bracelet.
(Focus as in central, focus as in hearth and home)




Tower Bridge.
It is open as it's supposed to be good luck.



Crown
(Keep Calm and Carry On)




Tower of London.




A (red) Telephone Booth.




Britannia




A (black) Cab.


It's hard to explain adequately how much I adore this bracelet.
In the soft silvery jingling I am reminded of the white noise traffic roar when our double glazed window was opened, Like magic. I am standing at the lights waiting to cross, watching for the lights to go yellow again before going green. I remember the smell of wet cobblestones near St Paul's and the swirl of a priest in a cassock.
I am walking past the garden in Bedford Square on my way to work, looking our for squirrels and the red Royal Mail vans.
I am waiting with Craig for our Yeoman at the gates of the Tower of London, sitting with a magazine at the Statue in front of Buckingham Palace, sitting on the steps at St Paul's waiting for Craig, Lying in sundappled shade in Hyde Park with my head on his hip. Walking hand in hand, glove in glove, along the Thames on a Saturday morning.
Roast chestnuts at the entrance to Tottenham Court Road tube, caramelised nuts near the Millennium bridge, churros and curry at the Thames festival, the wet organic scent of the back roads of Borough Market. The hush of a church or gallery, the silent roar of a cathedral, echoing, warbling sopranos, the muffled rustling of tourists, the err-err-err of wheelie bags on the ridges of the Millennium bridge. It is a sea of french, italian, of cockney, eton, greek, indian, of myriad accents.

My London was seen on foot and remembered in sounds and smells.

And all that from 13 little charms, on one little bracelet, on one little wrist.


P.s. My fav-fav-favourite charm? St Paul's.



Because? Well, firstly because I adore St Paul's. It is my moon, my London anchor.




But also! because it opens!




Eep!




I think it might be Jesus. Or just a cross. Or Jesus. Or a cross. Or Jesus. Who knows?