A sudden stomachache made Litz throw up for the first time in an airplane. She had imagined it many times, unfortunately. However, that made her ready at that point. She immediately took the appropriate package and threw up there, gracefully as much as the Queen would do.
After considering to isolate herself for a few seconds, she kept going and kept going, like a robot, through the anonymous tunnels of London Underground to get her train to the city. She noticed a very stylish guy wearing high socks and shorts, a loose jumper and a few kind of earrings. His Bluetooth micro headphones completed the outfit. She had to tolerate a group of young people talking about shitteries. She had become intolerant as a few people are, but she knew her truth very well.
Litz reached Westfield very easily from her hotel. The complex was attractive with its nice entry walk with plants and water. She went early in the morning, so a few people were around and mostly sat at the bakery. She took a muffin and ate it in front of the first luxury jewels window, feeling a bit like Audrey Hepburn at Tiffany’s. The guy at the cash machine had greeted her with a fake: “Take care!”. Her Ganni dress was outrageously elegant for that place and time, but she didn’t care. She looked at herself in a mirror. She still deserved to show off her beauty, but she had grown up enough not to do it anymore. Her hair was accurately tied in a clip telling a million other stories. A few shops later, in a car showroom, Litz slowly turned around the Tesla of her dreams and imagined herself driving it fast for hours in a wide long Texan highway. She still didn’t know if she could get used to that lifestyle, though.
She went to Liverpool Street to feel the (new) City vibe and take some cool pictures with skyscrapers, her favourite landscape. Without thinking too much, she headed toward Aldgate and kept walking until St. Katharin’s docks and its closest balcony to the river Thames. The view on Tower Bridge was breathtaking. She took some stairs down through a tiny passage to reach the water and hear the waves. Water’s sound is prooved being a soothing cure against depressive thoughts.
A few steps later she sat at a female-friendly fusion restaurant and ordered a delicious Indian rice-based recipe with fresh orange juice. She sat in the terrace and consumed her meal peacefully, congratulating herself for the wise choice. When she left the restaurant, a wild group of girls entered screaming for a hen party.
Grace, a posh Australian friend of hers was available for a coffee in the afternoon. They exchanged a few laughs over her new London lifestyle after giving birth, gave each other a few updates on the status of their respective stock markets and went buying delicacies at an Italian retailer. Grace then left, her baby demanding her care. Litz chilled in Soho, instead. She tried to get a spot at a couple of fancy local restaurants, but the queues were all at least one hour long and she was pretty hungry. She decided to downgrade her ambitions over that meal and was happy with a tofu-based recipe at a Chinese restaurant at the doors of Chinatown. The Spanish white wine they offered as first selection was acceptable as well. Restored by the warm dinner, Litz enjoyed the exciting vibe of Piccadilly Circus, melting in the crowd.
After sleeping tight, she followed a friend’s recommendation for breakfast and toured Covent Garden market. Her bakery bag already mentioned the upcoming celebrations for the 70th anniversary of Queen Elizabeth’s reign. Litz sent the Queen a thought of female solidarity, then went again to get public transportation.
This time she walked alone in Hyde park. Covered too much by her clothes under the heat, sipping a second Americano she didn’t want anymore, Litz focused her attention on the green of the grass long enough to forget her pain.
She could forget it all the times.
