Kensington

Visiting Kensington felt like visiting Europe for a week's holiday in the summer. It felt like Greece, France, Spain and Portugal all in one. Granted, I did visit on a sunny (and cloudy, because we're still in the U.K.) summer Tuesday, so it really could have just been the weather. But if you think about it, it really can't be that different to all the rest of the seasons because it was early afternoon on a weekday – is this how Kensington usually is? 

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Going from Notting Hill Gate station to Kensington High Street station was like walking through a vintage, middle-class, urban street with old-fashioned shops that were actually quite innovative at the same time. I could have been on a tour of the area, for all the locals knew. Disclaimer: I'm not a tourist, I live in London, I swear, I have evidence. But I couldn't help but notice there was what looked like an old, red tobacco shop-turned newsagents, and there were quirky fashion shops that really suit the stereotype of the West End. Then, as you walk down High Street, you'd be reminded of every other high street in London with the only notable difference being the elegant architecture to which careful attention has been paid, in design and a much more cohesive colour palette – this goes with both office buildings and residential homes. It may be strange wandering down people's home streets but, for me, it really felt like walking through paradise; the envision of heaven portrayed in cartoons. So white; such smooth curvature; such green trees framing this beautiful work. It evoked a memory in the depths of my mind of visiting Cornwall with my dad's side of the family and we stayed in this holiday home that had loads of natural light and loads of space to move around. Ahhh, true relaxation with everything you need at arm's length.

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I talk a lot about privilege here, but I didn't feel at all out of place. I don't know if it was because I was dressed in a rather preppy outfit with my Calvin Klein t-shirt… but still, I was so at ease. That day, there was a breeze and, in a way, I was able to morph with the high-end culture as I pleased and the day's flow sucked me in just like that little rhyme. It's weird because Londoners have always said that The West all snobby. Now, I didn't meet any people so I can't say I agree or not, but I know that the surroundings – architecture, shops and the park – took down all my barriers and welcomed me.

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Speaking of the park, Holland Park, it's beautiful. Look at me, being original (insert rolling eyes). Similarly to London's royal parks, it has a section that resembles a woodland area of some sort, with trees and fawn and all that jazz. But differently to those parks, Holland park has a lot of diversity so there is a lot for you to explore: an element of mystery, nestled in every turn you take. And there's actual soil and gravel in the terrain as opposed to flat concrete and mud – I say terrain because it's that real, uneven, with unique stones and curiously invasive vegetation, type of land that your dog rolls around in. You'd expect the focus of this paragraph to be on the park's Opera Theatre, and while it is beautiful, I thought, 'nah, maybe next time. Right now I miss the woods that you get in the countryside'.

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I imagine myself living amongst those seamless porcelain walls; the typical, romanticised London dream but I wonder what you, the reader, would do if you lived in Kensington. Would you smoke on the balcony? Would you sunbathe in the back garden when, out of nowhere, birds circle above and dark clouds creep across the sky? Is the wind going to pick up and rain going to start spilling over the neighbourhood? Maybe what would happen is that you'd be lying on your sunbed and, unbeknownst to you, this tempestuous obscurity crawls over the sky. Upon realisation, you pack up, grimacing at the thought that you now have to spend your one day off inside. You're safe inside and, with that grimace still adorning your face, you light a few candles and pull some blankets from that cupboard in your laundry room; you set your stage as comfortable as possible. Who knew that all it takes is lighting a candle and finding a blanket is all it takes to shake this tempestuous, menacing sentiment. You sit five inches away from the patio door, from where insects either take shelter or become subject to other fates. Your armchair seems way too small under these tremendously high ceilings, especially with the lights cold and night creeping in. The wind gets stronger and you, for once in your lifetime, doubt the physical integrity of your European establishment.

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But while the rain keeps running down the glass, streaming and flooding, your child comes traipsing around the corner – you hadn't noticed because all you could hear were patters along the glass shield, but which were actually patters down the stairs. Sobbing increases steadily and gets louder as the kid gets closer to you. You have to recognise the child's fear, so they get comfortable your lap, and after a lot of questions and patience, you find out that they were worried about their mum, who hasn't showed up at her usual home-time. Everyone knows that she's always late; but this was much later than late. Thoughts of getting into a crash or getting hit by lightning trouble your sweet child's mind and creep into yours.

 

So with cracking, earthy noises and flashing lights surrounding your silhouette, you speak softly, "Okay, you know mummy's a smart person, right?" You receive a bashful nod in response, "so don't you think that if she ever came across any trouble, she'd be able to get herself out of it, right?" The kid stays quiet. You know you're being a bit too optimistic and while you wholeheartedly trust your partner, you do ache to know that they are all in one piece. So you decide to be honest with your child, making sure to place emphasis on trust, faith and what you can do to help the situation.

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You take your little squirm into your arms and show them the outside world, encompassing them in the blanket while the screen before them explodes and churns and makes stationary objects take flight. You pull out your phone and open the text conversation with your love and allow the child type out a message. You press 'send' and the two of you return to the scene in silence but before mum could reply back, the baby falls fast asleep in your arms.