The Race

My housemate and I went to the Oxford and Cambridge boat race today. We walked from Parsons Green to Putney to Hammersmith, pulling on jumpers and taking them off again as the sun slid from blue sky to grey cloud and back into blue sky. There was a strange mixture of tourists, unashamed teenage rahs and arty people, all relaxing in a boozy, balmy afternoon by the river. I met a new friend, through a friend and we talked marketing, buying houses (or rather not being able to afford to buy houses) and music gigs - groups that I’ve never even heard of. I’m not very cool like that. There was a collective group decision to cheer for Cambridge. Someone’s friend had attended Cambridge and I plumped for them purely through childish revenge. My Chatterbox went to Oxford and indeed used to row for his house. But as he dumped me on Thursday, I felt it a fabulous idea to cheer for Cambridge. Which I did, wholeheartedly…and they won. A few hours and a few bottles of Pinot Grigio later, we walked back home, through Hammersmith, Putney and Parsons Green. And yes… I was making the most of the bank holiday weekend despite feeling a little sad and distracted. But I ended up having a pretty good time. You see, usually at the end of a relationship, I spend a lot of time wishing that I hadn’t said this and I hadn’t done that. And I convince myself it’s all my fault and I get myself into a horrible, sad, lonely place. But it’s such a complete waste of my time. So I decided that this time, I’ll go against all my natural instincts and do the opposite. So when he texted me this morning with an affectionate text, I ignored it. No analysis, no long thought out painful reply. Nothing. He told me it’s over, in an immensely confusing way, announcing that I was beautiful, that we really talked, that he fancied me ridiculously but that his gut instinct said I’m not the one, he then proceeded to snog me, before walking away. So I could analyse that until the cows come home. But I’m not going to. He said it’s over and I am just going to accept it’s over and walk away myself.

I live in London. It’s a stressful, tiring place. It’s taken a lot out of me recently. But it’s also immensely exciting, been coined the capital of Europe for its culture and business merits and is wonderfully diverse. I am privileged to be young with no ties and able to walk out of my front door, to watch a race that the rest of the country is watching on the television. So no matter how difficult it is to go against my over anxious, over analytical instincts, that’s what I’m going to do. Hurrah for Cambridge!!