Lunch At The Flask
It was nice yesterday to be able to resume my Sunday lunches at the pub, after the weeks of seclusion. I need to remind myself that the hardship ain’t over year, with two full graded essays yet to be completed, but strangely enough, thoughts of cooping myself up in my room aren’t really at the top of my mind right now.
And so I headed up to the Hampstead again, where the sunny weather and warm temperatures brought out the beautiful people of London, with tops down - car tops, that is – and well-fed dogs sauntering around looking happy. There, I got together with my good friend and classmate from Ohio. She had suggested dining at the Freemasons Arms, which led me to wonder if I needed to make any secret handshake before being allowed in.
Unfortunately, the place proved very popular, and despite hovering around for close to a half hour, we didn’t manage to secure a seat. After a hungry twenty minutes of wandering around, we found ourselves at Flask Walk, a narrow side lane, and at the imaginatively-named pub called The Flask, featuring a cheerful and polite Australian-accented waitress.
There, I settled down for a nice comfortable Sunday roast, and chatted away merrily with her. But there was a dawning realization that this might be the last time in a long while before the two of us would meet. For time is steadily moving on, and some in class, including her, are planning to be away from London over the summer. Many might not even return to hand in their final dissertation projects personally.
It’s no use ruminating right here, right now, about the passing sands of time, and of friendships drifting. I’m certainly aware of how each day is whizzing by so fast, even as the days are getting longer. Things change. We know that. Let's relish what we can get for now, and worry about the regrets later.
And so I headed up to the Hampstead again, where the sunny weather and warm temperatures brought out the beautiful people of London, with tops down - car tops, that is – and well-fed dogs sauntering around looking happy. There, I got together with my good friend and classmate from Ohio. She had suggested dining at the Freemasons Arms, which led me to wonder if I needed to make any secret handshake before being allowed in.
Unfortunately, the place proved very popular, and despite hovering around for close to a half hour, we didn’t manage to secure a seat. After a hungry twenty minutes of wandering around, we found ourselves at Flask Walk, a narrow side lane, and at the imaginatively-named pub called The Flask, featuring a cheerful and polite Australian-accented waitress.
There, I settled down for a nice comfortable Sunday roast, and chatted away merrily with her. But there was a dawning realization that this might be the last time in a long while before the two of us would meet. For time is steadily moving on, and some in class, including her, are planning to be away from London over the summer. Many might not even return to hand in their final dissertation projects personally.
It’s no use ruminating right here, right now, about the passing sands of time, and of friendships drifting. I’m certainly aware of how each day is whizzing by so fast, even as the days are getting longer. Things change. We know that. Let's relish what we can get for now, and worry about the regrets later.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home