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Thursday, 28 May 2009

One Story in 11 Million

Ex File

Funny thing about ex girlfriends. Even in a city of 11 millions like London, they,she keeps popping up.

Lucinda and I broke up about 10 years ago, pretty much amicably when we realized that a long distance relationship (Philadelphia/London) wasn't going to work. This after many years in London where I worked before moving to Philly in 1999. Lucinda was a frequent visitor to Philadelphia, as I was to London over the immediate years. I loved London, She adored Philly. Go figure.

But you never know about amicable.
I was in London last week. I've been back numerous times before. But never back to Richmond where Lucinda and I shared digs in Kings Road for almost five years. So when I returned to London last week and -- for the first time -- visited Richmond, I had some trepidation that I might run into the old flame. I was visiting with one of my best buds, Dave, who told me that he hadn't seen Lucinda around town for ages. Had she moved? Never mind. We just did our Richmond thing.
My last day in London was last Sunday. I showered, shaved, checked my rez, and headed to the breakfast room for my last English breakfast before heading to Philly later that afternoon. I settled in at a table with a young couple, shared some conversation, but my eyes went on to scan the dining room of the Penn Club, the place in Bloomsbury where I was staying. (Named after William Penn. Not UPenn).
Halo, across the room was a good-looking blond, alone, savoring her breakfast. Good looker, I thought -- and then it stuck me! It was Lucinda!
Should I approach her? Bad idea. I had no interest in rekindling any of the past.
Then how could I escape? Obviously, I couldn't cross the breakfast room. She, being near the exit door, would surely spy me.
Instead, I ducked behind my table into the kitchen, hoping to make my escape via a kitchen door. Oops! No door. My first impulse was to duck through a window into a backyard garden. Fortunately, seconds before doing this, I checked out a butler's door (midget size) that led to a main hall. I made my way through this door to my fourth floor room. I was in a cold sweat.
Retracing my steps, I checked out of the hotel. Was Lucinda a guest? I inquired. She wasn't registered. But that wasn't key, I was told. She was probably a companion of another guest.
Then I put it together. Philadelphia and William Penn. Lucinda was connecting the dots from our past association. Probably with another. Out the door, scurrying off to Russell Square. Exit.