August is a Wicked Month

by Katie on August 29, 2010

It’s nearly over.  But oh what halcyon times we Londoners had.  ie. The single, sane, drink fuelled, non child carrying versions, of course.  Not the 4×4, child dropping off at small private school (in my road Goddamit), discussing the nanny and the new kitchen layout ones.  They’ve gone:  To Puglia or Greece or the Northern part of Majorca or somewhere wherever the middle classes congregate to usurp one another in regaled tales on their return.  No matter. 

Oh but they’ll be back, all too soon.  We have but yet 3 days of bliss. 

It’s particularly apparent just how much the Capital changes when it’s August Bank Holidays.  You know, people do that thing where they ask you if you’re going away and look at you pityingly when you say,”‘No, not this time”, when inside you’re screaming, “Yes, but you are”, while punching the air in your thoughts. 

For one whole month and for two glorious weekends in August, London actually becomes a workable, pleasant city to live, work and party in.  The streets today looked sparse like a big cosmopolitan town like Munich or Brussels and, while the retailers may cry into their Monday retail figures sheets at lack of trade, this was joy of joy: You get to view New Season in all its glory minus bored children, bustling mothers and daughters and awkward men laden with carrying bags while the wife/girlfriends ‘try on something’. 

Even M&S becomes pleasant and the obligatory screaming child allocated to each and every store disappears magically.  Can you believe that the £10 ‘Dine in for Two’ (which, of course, I eat for one, natch) was still available in the afternoon of a Bank Holiday weekend as it was so empty?  Loving it.

Talking of ‘Dine in For Two’, the couples disappear at Bank Holidays. Yeah!  No more mooning, arms draping, canoodling in (family/chain) restaurants while you’re trying to actually, you know, eat. They’ve gone. *dances little jig*

And taxis.  My God.  Taxis are easier to come by than dog crap on the road. Only last week, my fairly merry friend and I skipped out of a late night club event and literally, the moment we stuck out our hand, a black cab had appeared.  This was on Oxford Street, no less, in the early hours of the morn. Miraculous.

Tables in restaurants are for the taking.  No longer relegated to the dodgy seating area in ‘back-of-beyondsville’ as you’re eating on your own, a girl can finally pick and choose.  Even the men look better.  Hotter.  I think it’s because there’s less of them around and the ‘family way’ ones are all abroad or in the Cotswolds or Cornwall en famille.

Oh yes.  August Bank Holidays means you can swan around on your own on near empty public transport (as much as that can occur in the metropolis), saunter into a wine bar or pub without being crushed at the bar waiting for service or, even drive, and park, without hassle. *swoons*. 

I wish it were always like this.  But life is but a dream and they’ll be back.  That’s the wicked part.

What do you think of August Bank Holidays, or August generally, in London.  Worth staying at home for?  Please leave a comment in the comment box below or start a conversation n the ‘shout mix’ box opposite.  It’s easy to do.
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RedlegsinSoho August 29, 2010 at 10:36 am

Yes, amazing how civilised London becomes, you realise it is not the noise, the hoodies and the chaos that get you but the middle classes, their cars and their entitle birdnest haired brats! Only shame is the school holidays bring trendy mum and dad to art galleries and museums.
THIS A WASTE OF TIME, children under 5 hate museums and ruin galleries for the rest of us.


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