Six years of Sunshine in London

It was early September in 2009 that Mr Sunshine and I packed up our home in Cape Town. We had simplified our belongings into a suitcase each and, with his university place and my hopes of a job, we jumped on a plane bound for London. We had no guarantees.

For the first year or so, until I’d got permanent work and we no longer had to live on savings, it felt like we’d leapt out of a plane, waiting for our parachutes to open. The ride was scary and exhilarating, never knowing when the cheek-wobbling free fall would end.

All we knew was that it was going to be an adventure. And it has been.

It feels like a lifetime since that all began. My blog name reflects both my nature and intention to find sunshine in London, to find light in the dark days, and to make the most of every day. I’ve done just that and I’ve learnt a lot. With characteristic lightness, and looking beyond the city, I bring you six things I’ve learnt:

1. London is ever surprising

When we’d visited London in the past, we were struck by its charm and beauty and excitement. Living here, we are no less enthralled. There is always something to see.

My daily commute into central London takes me past Pudding Lane (where the Great Fire of London began in 1666), past the Monument (designed by Sir Christopher Wren, to commemorate the Fire), over Southwark Bridge across the Thames with a view of Tower Bridge and the Shard to the east, St Paul’s, Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, Tate Modern and a glimpse of the London Eye to the west.

I get off the bus and walk to my office, past a wall with this daily reminder:

I pass a charging point for electric cars, a small rehearsal space and an art gallery, next to a small churchyard with a community garden, created from the rubble of a World War Two bombsite.

Around the corner from my office, past a church with a cat-flap on its door, is a favourite lunch spot for my colleagues and me. We’re regulars at the little cafe in a gallery and rehearsal space where we often spot well-known film and TV actors and comedians.

There is a dark side to the Big Smoke too: it’s really expensive to live, work and travel in and around the city, there is constant TV surveillance everywhere and it’s really really hard to find work. I’ve learnt that if you can wrestle those elements and remain standing, you’ll be ok.

2. There is an art in small talk

Having grown up in southern Africa where days are either perfect or occasionally not-so-great, I’ve now learnt to notice – and care about – the weather. It’s a great topic to start a conversation or, indeed, keep a conversation going.

I’ve learnt that the weather is generally not quite right in London. Winter might be starting too late:

“I like the weather mild at the end of the year, but not mild mild, you know?”

Summer might be way too hot, spring may be a bit too windy and autumn just too full of leaves. Weather reporters are known to describe the weather as ‘disappointing’, days as having ‘a slow start’ or indeed giving you the opportunity to ‘treat it like a catwalk and wear your warmest coat’.

Small talk at the office water cooler can revolve entirely around weather. Or the weekend. You can also have entire conversations about nothing, really. And they’re usually punctuated with rolled eyes, an eyebrow-lift, a sigh, a shoulder shrug a resigned, ‘anyway’, and the inevitable ‘sorry’.

On a Monday morning it could typically be:

“How was your weekend?”

“Great, thanks. How about yours? Sorry, can I just …?”

“No problem. Sorry.”

“Not at all. Mine was great, thanks. What did you get up to?”

“Not much, really. Just a quiet one, keeping it chilled. Sorry, may I?”

“Of course! Chilled sounds good.”

“Went way too quickly, though.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

Both sigh, shrug our shoulders and roll our eyes.

“Absolutely.”

“Anyway, back to the grindstone.”

“Isn’t it always? Sorry.”

3. Choice can be overwhelming

The first time I shopped in a large supermarket in London, I felt giddy with the choice. Of everything. It’s much easier to shop when you have a limited choice. When you have 14 options to choose from, it’s hard to decide which is the best one. It’s the same with things to do in London. I sometimes review the entertainment on offer, and I don’t know where to begin to choose. I’ve learnt that the best thing to do is to do everything you can. Or nothing at all. We generally go for the former.

Our red box is overflowing with mementos of holidays, concerts, day trips, cultural experiences. We’ve seen and done more than we could ever have imagined. London offers us huge helpings of carpe diem, and we’re feasting on it.

4. British reserve is an actual thing

The ‘stiff upper lip’ and ‘British reserve’ are alive and well and living in London. I hadn’t realised they existed until we lived here. I’ve learnt that my friends and colleagues would rather put up with inferior service or food than say anything to make anyone feel bad. I went out with friends last week; we all ordered the same hot meal, which arrived tepid and ‘disappointing’. I was the only of the three who sent mine back to be re-heated; my friends didn’t want to ‘make a thing of it’.

I’ve also learnt that my friends find it easier to say nothing than to say something that might make anyone feel uncomfortable. I’ve lost both of my parents since we’ve been here, and in my deep sadness and loss, my friends and colleagues remained largely silent. I don’t believe it’s a lack of caring; it’s a fear of saying something that might make you or the other person feel, well, anything. This lack of expressed emotion is something alien to me, and I struggle with it very much. Sorry.

5. This is a country of outstanding beauty

We’ve travelled a lot throughout the United Kingdom since we’ve been here and have found many places of exceptional beauty. From the turquoise and extraordinary coastline of Cornwall to the exceptional and breathtaking green of Wales, and from the rugged and wind-swept South Downs to the bleak and wild islands of the Outer Hebrides.

6. London is a paradox

At first, I found it hard to find my place in this beast of a city that heaves with the tongues and tribes of a thousand nations. No-one and everyone belongs in this huge and very small city. I’ve walked its modern, history-steeped streets. In the noise and bustle of eight and a half million people that call London home, where no-one hears me or sees me, I’ve yelled into the darkness and found my voice. And I’ve learnt that for now, while home is on the other side of the world, London is where I’ve hung my hat.

Sunshine signing off for today!