Discoveries with a rotten apple

Written as a eucalptus candle burns beside me, about an entertainment inflicted by a rotten apple

19/4/22

Tuesday, but this is about Monday

@ a space in my bed against the big window

(5 ft 2 in height- precisey because I stood on the sill and discovered my window is slightly taller)

Dear world,

I’ve been so eager to write down my thoughts lately, and today, two thirds of my attention were preoccupied by a flock of spurting ideas during work. But although my thoughts were theorised 'exciting' in my mind today, this letter is about yesterday- do you mind?

It was bank holiday Monday, I spent the morning writing and editing my letter about the day before, Easter Sunday- a slightly out of ordinary day. But I already told you all about it so I’ll move on to yesterday.

By 14:00, my letter to the world, aka my blog, was published. I wanted to finish it by noon at exactly 12:00 because I planned to spend the day out, under the sunshine. I’ve taken a keen interest in exploring the streets of Kensington to feed my imagination but yesterday was mainly fueled by catching some tan.

With such a strict failure to schedule adherence, I left the house just past 17:00, with only a few hours of el sol left in stock. I spent an overly slow hour or so, “working out”. I'm quoting myself here because my activities lately have been less than adequate in my eyes, to contribute substantially to my so called fitness. I’ve been finding my latest fancies on contemplations more than actions, but I’m steadily claiming the right balance.

I was sufficiently satisfied overall at succeeding to break enough sweat today, with the first cardio exercise set consisting of:

4x repeat of 30 secs per push up squat thrusts, jumping side and front jacks, jumping lunges and jumping straight punches, with 10 secs break- a total of 10 minutes HIIT.  

Then I moved on to the second set after staring at my phone for a prolonged 'quick' break. I attached 5kg total of weights on my ankles then followed through with alternating squat kicks (30 secs per exercise), knee blocks (relevant for kickboxing), alternating jumping hooks, and alternating knee strikes. I was drenched in sweat by the time I was done- the time when I feel most beautiful.

I ended the this day’s forced regime with 50x arm dips on my bed's frame; 25x4 glute bridges (with one leg resting on my knee each time) and a total of 100 jump squats (50x at once then 25x2).

Then, I finally got ready and wore a washy denim skirt with a sleeveless top to savour the remaining sunshine. 

The highlight of my walk was following the sun as it was setting west en route from Kensington High Street to Battersea bridge. I listened to John Green’s “Looking for Alaska” as I walked, and laughed to myself from hearing Alaska’s wild comments on things while I ate an apple. 

The plot twist: the apple was spoiled in the centre and I only realised after swallowing a substantial fraction of it. It was gross but there was nothing to be done. I tried to brush it off as if it was an unlikely bad dream, until my stomach protested and decided to make a scene at my expense. In a second, I was desperate. It felt like the one prank I woud have kicked off about with: "This isn't funny, you're not funny, fix this right now!", at the universe, if it dared to breathe near me. The toilet was my redemption but I still had a mile or so to walk before I could reach a familiar street.

It was extra challenging because I initially cut through a secluded and unexplored street that caught my attention for the drama it stirred in me. "What a joke- this whole thing! What was I thinking going for a walk by myself?", I protested to myself. A minute felt like forever as I searched for the nearest restaurant or cafe or pub, anything- but there was none for another minute. Then I finally reached a Michelin starred restaurant somewhere in Chelsea, with a grand entrance of fresh flower bouquets surrounding the outside tables, where people were enjoying wines and expensive surfaced French dishes. I was reluctant to go in for a second but after a glance at the street forward; without any recognisable cafe or pub seen in the horizon, I turned a step back.

With my most graphic distorted face, I held onto my stomach with both hands to add impact to my request before I approached a pretty blonde lady, who was coming to greet me from inside, in an ocean blue suit and a white collared shirt under her blazer; and said that I wasn’t there to eat but that I desperately needed their toilet. “Do you mind?”, I asked her.

At first I thought she was going to deny me the privilege of a toilet at such a crucial moment, but she was surprisingly welcoming without a single hesitation in her gentle voice. She explained that they normally don’t allow it but I guessed that my emergency was horrific enough to make an exception. 

She politely directed me to the stairs where the toilet was led from, and she even walked with me there. The interior was sparkling with marbles, large mirrors and coloured stones. I couldn’t pay much attention to the designs as I walked up to the toilet, to what felt like a climb to a sanctuary temple, where I could almost reach aid to this tragic comedy.

My grand relief was heightened at the thought that the original romantic vision of my sunset “Chelsea walk” was almost a “Feacesy walk”. And that’s with “almost” being synonymous to “not”.

I turned up the volume to my headphones as I spent a good time ensuring the coast was clear before leaving the restaurant. “I can’t believe this is happening to me at a Michelin restaurant”, I thought to myself, while also feeling slightly majestic. 

“The universe has been plotting some interesting experiences lately”, I continued thinking to myself, that was leaning more towards laughing at myself.

I was extremely thankful to all the staff who made eye contacts as I was leaving the restaurant, gesturing with my hands glued to each other and nodding as I walked out. I couldn’t hear them but they nodded back as if to say “you’re welcome, no worries or happy to help” because I didn’t think to remove my headphones at this point. And at this point too, I thought about nurturing some skills in lip reading by stimulating future communications without hearing through my headphones (a pair of white wireless Sony). It’s another adventure to pursue for my comedic pursuits for sure. 

I was supposed to have this walk with Charlie from Hinge, the one I drunk expressed “100%” interest in “banging” a few days ago. Well, according to him the drive from Grimsby (in Lincolnshire) back to London was horrendous so he arrived much later than planned, at nearing 18:00. I was empathetic and said: "We’d better leave it for another day" as we both agreed we are to face a mountain of work the next day after a long Easter weekend. 

I walked for another 20 minutes under the darkening sky before the sun was completely off sight. I waited for 170 at a bus stop next to Battersea Bridge for around 10 minutes before finally reaching my town (it was otherwise another hour+ of walking). I stopped at a shop for some sausages and a Pao Bun, ate them, showered, and finally retreated to slumberland around 22:20.

The day’s conclusion: I didn’t think it was a particularly, intellectually stimulating day but John Green made me laugh several times. And I was excited about reading John F. Kennedy, plus it revealed a new desire to become a columnist by some means. 

I’ll probably change my mind soon enough. My point is to explore forevermore.

The end.

Sincerely,

Dora the explorer