The British High Street

There's something about a British high street that can lift any mood.
At least our high street can.
It's always a bustle of people. Hurrying along, in and out of the many cute little shops, picking up dinner, dry cleaning, flowers, going to and from work -- it's always full of folks.
And colorful.
A lot of restaurants, cafes and bars have tables outside -- and it's not like they give up on it in the winter.
Far from it.
Brits still sit outside whenever they can. In Italy, they've long brought the tables in.
Here, they've just put the outside heaters on overhead.
I'm wondering how long the restaurant and cafe tables will stay out. All winter? Nobody seems to have brought theirs in yet. And we've had gales blowing a couple days.
Anyway, besides the tables, there's always the fresh fruit and veg shops and stands that always display their bounty beautifully in baskets outside. With big bunches of fresh flowers nearby.
The high street just goes on for miles.
London is just one high street after another, linked together, one little village after the other.
Ours is really cute. We have a lot of adorable shops (expensive though usually). I notice a different one every time I walk down it. Lots of chain stores and restaurants too, but cute nevertheless.
This afternoon I walked to a Thai grocery store about a mile away that sells all Asian produce. I've found yummy Chinese dumplings there that you can steam at home.
Picked up some of those.
I love that you can get everything you want just right outside on the high street. Convenient too, since don't have a car anymore.
So, had a lovely long walk. It's all flat around here, which helps.
Million people out. All doing their thing.
Makes you feel part of things.

Learning English

My son and I walked out yesterday afternoon to have an afternoon pick-me-up sweet. Decided to go have a nutella crepe at a place nearby.
It was Sunday and sunny, so there were hundreds of people out on our high street. On nice weekend afternoons, the high street here is simply packed with people, shopping, having brunch, walking hand-in-hand, picking up fresh flowers, kids on pedal scooters, kids in strollers, old couples with linked arms, women in short-shorts, women in veils -- all of humanity is there.
It makes you feel part of things to be out with them all.
So we strolled along, bought a Sunday paper, and then sat at an outdoor table in the sun at the French crepe place.
The waitress, cute, perky and thin with curly long brown hair, came up to take our order.
She could barely speak English, but I knew that accent well -- hell, I grew up with it.
"Are you Italian?" I asked her, in Italian.
Huge relief swept across her young face.
And we proceeded to have a quick get-to-know-you in Italian.
The young Roman girl, only 20, just got to London a week ago. Got the job at the French crepe place two days earlier.
She couldn't talk long. She was new. She kept looking over her shoulder to see if the boss was watching.
Came to London to learn English. Got a room nearby.
But it was hard.
Found this job, though, so that was good. Even though it was only part-time.
Missed Rome like hell. Big fat tears welled up in her huge doe-like eyes when I asked about home.
Used to work as a waitress at the Cavallieri Hilton in Rome, up in the Monte Mario neighborhood.
I know it well. Family friends lived in the neighborhood for years; I've spent a lot of time around there.
"I had to learn English," she said, in Italian. "Otherwise, I'll still be a waitress there when I'm 40."
"If I learn English, then I can go back to the hotel there and do something else, not be a waitress."
Go home, to Rome, of course. As soon as possible.
Big watery brown eyes.
As we walked back home, we noticed that another place on our high road, a bit more up-market, had a sign up asking for experienced waiters.
With good English.
Stressed that part.
My son eyed it.
May have to go that route after this internship.
Which thankfully, starts a week from today.