British Summer Time

I confess I’m rather chauvinistic about New York.   The city’s been my home pretty much all my life and I love the hustle and bustle,  the theater,  the 24/7 vibe,  the people-watching,  and I don’t even mind the noise and the traffic.

Don’t get me wrong,  I love to travel and I always find other cities and countries wonderful to visit,  but I never could imagine actually LIVING anywhere else . . .  until we spent a year in London.  (See Valentine’s Day in Foggytown,  Laundry Day in London and  Kinky Boots)

London I found had New York beat – lots of the good shows even open on the West End before they get to Broadway,  and the bad rap on British food is undeserved.  The architecture and the parks and squares are beautiful,  and the taxi drivers never get lost.   And for this city lover,  London is the most wonderfully cosmopolitan town.

But the wet and dreary weather is bloody awful,  I carried my brolly and my sweater everywhere,  and it got dark so damn early!   But thank goodness for British Summer Time,  when like DST in the States,  we’d fall back and spring ahead,  and supposedly grab at least one more hour of sunlight.

So I think I have to edit Samuel Johnson.

“When a man is tired of London – crummy weather aside – he is tired of life.”

– Dana Susan Lehrman

The Cafe

Recently at a neighborhood cafe I saw an attractive older couple deep in conversation,  their hands touching on the table.  (See West Side Story)   

Both wore wedding rings,  but their body language told me they weren’t married to each other.  I’ll never know their backstory so I imaged this one for them.

Early in their marriage her husband often travelled on business.  She didn’t mind having a few days to herself –  she’d come home from work and have a sandwich as she watched TV,  or meet a friend for dinner,  or take a book to a restaurant and prop it up on the table while she ate.

Then once when her husband was away the date seemed familiar and she realized it was her old boyfriend’s birthday.  They hadn’t seen each other in a decade and she calculated it would be his milestone 30th.  Knowing he worked in the city,  she looked him up and called.

He said he was married but would love to see her.  She agreed to meet him for old times’ sake,  and they found their attraction as strong as ever.

And from then on they’d meet when each could steal a few hours,  and they’d jokingly say they were just two old lovers making up for lost time.  And as long as their spouses were kept in the dark,  they’d tell each other,  no one would be hurt.

And like the couple in Neil Simon’s Same Time Next Year,  their affair went on for decades.

Then one day they met at a cafe and he told her he was retiring and he and his wife were moving out of state.  It was a gut punch for them both,  and they spoke about things they hadn’t discussed in earnest before.

They shared dissatisfactions in their marriages,  and the certainty they still loved each other,  although leaving their spouses and breaking up their families had always been too daunting to even consider.

And now,  both in their 70s and soon to be living hundreds of miles apart,  they knew they might never see each other again.  They rued their youthful breakup,  and imagined how happy they’d have been had they married all those years ago.

And although they’d kept their relationship a secret,  and despite their insistence to the contrary,  they knew in some ways the infidelity and deceit must have taken its toll.

And sitting in that cafe they had the first taste of their comeuppance,  and they knew they’d both suffer the pain of regret.

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

Be here now, baby.
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