My first blogger hero was Mr. London Street.
I was a very new blogger at the time and stumbled on him quite by accident after stumbling on the December 2009 Blogs of Note list by accident (in which, of course he was a recent winner). The first post of his that I read had me rolling with laughter at the manner in which he cleverly portrayed the ridiculous.
He’s completely different than I am as a blogger, and from what I can gather, as a personality. He’s often irreverent and provocative; but what really stands out is how much he is full of discernment. This quality becomes evident in post after post as he builds his (often randomly chosen) themes into lengthy narratives, or into apt 100 Word Posts (a concept, I believe, started by him).
You get the sense that he’s a curmudgeon, but it’s hard to place your finger on it because his posts are nothing if not honest. But his curmudgeonly nature, if he has one, has an achilles heel in his wife Kelly, and those are some of my favorite posts (one example found here). When he writes of her, the chink in his armor is revealed and he writes vulnerably without discomposure. And it’s just such things as to instantly relate to.
Anyway, I’m thrilled that he has done me the honor of guest posting here, and I sincerely hope that you will go here and vote him the Best European Blogger, and then go here and read more of his worthy posts. I’m sure you will be unable to resist becoming a fan.
Without further ado, I give you Mr. London Street.
Imagine for a second that you are by the banks of an ancient river, looking at stand after stand of second-hand books, the banal and the fascinating in front of you. What’s really in front of you is something else altogether: the absorbing joy of sorting one from the other. All around you people are doing exactly the same, art students, hipsters, young families. Boats chug past, momentary interruptions to the iconic view on the other side and the glorious tall buildings, still there despite the war of almost a century ago. Everything is perfect and your day is nowhere near finished; after this you could take in the attractions of gallery, drift round the quiet whitewashed rooms scratching your head and trying to work out whether you should be inspired, amused or irritated.
Next I want you to imagine you are in the grid of sloping streets further from the river, closer to the end of the day. Everyone is sitting outside the bars on an evening which is not cold and not quite dark yet. Everywhere is chatter and bustle, waiters coming out with trays of drinks and a haze of smoke pervades the scene, thick but somehow not unpleasant. All it really does is diffuse the twinkling lights and lend an attractive bokeh to everything. All the angular metropolitans going past will soon be seated and part of this experience, not apart from it, and it makes you realise what this is all about; belonging to something bigger than you could ever be on your own.
Now let’s move on to the next day, still sitting outside but this time at a small rickety table on the pavement, with a notebook, a delicious cup of coffee and a rich, buttery pastry in front of you, possibly three of the finest things you can place on a small table outside a pavement cafe. As the plate and the cup empty, the notebook gets filled – with the sights and sounds of a city waking up. People off to the market, or to the shops, all of them that odd mix of familiar and strange. Being here you know you could make up stories about every single one of them, if you put your mind to it, because there’s something magical about this place.
When I was asked to write a piece about Paris, I thought about how easy it would be. There is very little I don’t love about the place, from the boutiques and bars of the Marais to the grand sweep of the Seine, from the serenity of the Sacre Coeur to the bedlam of the Metro at rush hour (and I’ve only been there as a tourist, I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be if you actually need to get somewhere). Then there’s the delight of watching the French at lunch and seeing all that passion for people and food colliding in a hand-waving interrupting maelstrom that the English, all confined to the rectangular prison of their own placemats, could never match.
I could easily have written that sort of piece and, believe me, I nearly did, but this is not that sort of piece.
Before I did, I looked at some of the other pieces people have written about Paris in Jennie’s blog and one sentence stopped me in my tracks and made me change my mind. There are many cities in the world to love… but to me, there is only one Paris. And I remember thinking: why should it be that way?
Then I found myself considering the tyranny of perfection. Because we can’t all live in Paris, or travel there every year. Many fantastic people will never see it at all except in photographs, movies, novels and daydreams. Why should we all beat ourselves up about it? Not everybody gets to live in a mansion, not everyone becomes a film star or publishes a novel and not everyone gets to live in Paris. And that’s fine, because the thing I almost feel it’s blasphemous to say here is this: Paris is only one example of the beauty of communities that you see all over the place.
So, rather than rhapsodise about Paris – easy though that would be and much as I adore it – I’d rather do something slightly harder, which is ask you to fall a little bit in love with the places nearer to you and the things you might not always notice. Because there can be a little bit of Paris in Wellington, or Oxford, or Des Moines, or anywhere, if you want to see it there.
Think about it: your favourite spot, that peaceful green space where the sun shines just right and lights up everyone, where the ice cream tastes perfect doesn’t have to be the Tuileries. The buildings that always lift your heart when you see them can be a shimmering, curving plane of glass, a golden crumbling cloister or a Victorian classic of redbrick and wrought iron. It’s not written anywhere that it has to be a pylon, not even the most beautiful pylon in the world. The restaurant where you always feel welcome, where they know you and are happy you came to see them again can be a million miles from Saint Germain. And the small shops owned by people who love what they do so much that they can make you love it too are not the exclusive property of the Marais.
They are everywhere, and they are the best of what makes us band together, put a line round a group of buildings on a map and give it a name to itself. Celebrating that is far more important, and if we don’t do it then who will? And although I’ve said it’s harder than you think, it’s not as hard as all that. Look back at my opening three paragraphs; none of them are about Paris.
The first one is the South Bank in London on a spring afternoon, in the perfect spot between Waterloo Bridge and Tate Modern. The second one is the Tunel district of Istanbul on a warm winter’s night. And the third? Well, that’s a cafe called Picnic in my hometown of Reading. When the weather gets better, and you can see the promise of brightness out of the window when you wake up, and the farmer’s market has come to town, that’s where you’ll find me on a Saturday morning. Come and say hello, if you do.
See? You can find it anywhere if you’re looking. And if I never see a series of posts from people on anybody’s blog telling the world what they love so much about my home town I think I can cope with that. But I’ll tell you this: in the right light, on the right day, Paris is just like Reading.
Thank you for sharing this great blogger with us! His writing is simply amazing! I felt inspired to write something great and have a few ideas now!
Lovely post. I like the trick he plays on our minds with the images that aren’t Paris. The transference is almost automatic. A fantastic writer (though I confess I am a long time fan).
I love the illusion in this post almost more than I love the overall message. It is possible to find the beauty in everyday, but you have to be open to it in a way that we aren’t always. It is too easy to get caught up in the everyday hooha and just expect beauty to throw itself at your feet and declare itself.
Thank you MLS for posting a lovely thought provoking post. And thank you both for introducing me to Jennie’s blog which I shall enjoy exploring.
This was absolutely brilliant! The little trick at the end was well played – very original. And of course the message is true. I immediately thought of my favorite places in my hometown etc.
Wonderful bit of writing.
I had to read this again & again.
Though I love Paris I found myself on the South Bank of the Thames, on the west coast of Ireland and at a cafe in Brighton.
Thank you MLS – this was wonderful.
I think you got the last phrase wrong. Sometimes Reading is just like Paris.
superb piece
I have been following Mr London Street for a short while and reading him has become kind of a regular appointment.
I’ve been a fan of MLS for a while, so enjoyed this very much. You are right, of course–there are little corners of perfection all over the world. Thank you for reminding me.
Such a nice post….and a great message too….something all of us should keep in mind and try to find, I believe.
Thank you for the introduction to Mr. London Street. I loved the trickery involved in this post, as well as the message.
I could easily envisage the beginning part and thought, oh, how marvelous! Then, when I got to the message, I loved that even more, because it struck a deeper chord to the ordinary person. And the ordinary person also turned out to be you, which was the final refreshment. So a wonderful post brought to a deeper, richer level. A trip to the corner cafe is much more doable than one halfway across the world. You can find a rainbow if you look hard enough. And you can put a notebook, a cup of coffee, and a pastry on most any table and call it “good.” 😉
Well said Jeannie, and thanks for visiting!
Amazing writing. Great perspective. Nice twist. Loved this! Thanks for sharing Mr. London Street with us.
Hi nice to meet you and your equally nice blog – thanks to MLS whose writing I’ve been a fan of. And trust him to provide us with this kind of surprise and twist – never run-of-the-mill. I must admit I was fooled.
In the end there’s no place like home. Thank you for having him for us. Worth a second read.
Big Sigh (of pleasure). Mr LS this was a joy to read. I agree of course with all you say. Jeannie’s comment says it all too – you can find a rainbow if you look hard enough. Paris is one of my rainbows, but increasingly since I moved here from London, so is Cork. I am working on a series of posts as a tribute: celebrating this city I have come to love, and may leave soon. Reading your post today makes me feel it is absolutely the right thing to do.
MLS I loved this, I’ve never been to Paris, but it made me think of my favourite place – Edinburgh. An excellent post as always.
Poignant, personal and uniquely perceptive. As ever beautifully written by @MrLondonStreet. Really enjoyed that.
I’ll give this a whirl next time I’m in Walsall.
hello, I also very much enjoy Mr London Street’s writing so I’ve come over here via his blog and found you- which is a bonus on a Friday.
What he says about Paris is true- but then on the other hand the thing about Paris, and the way in which it’s like London, is that it in some ways it could never ever live up to what it is meant to be; and yet somehow it does. Somehow it is more than it is said to be, even though the buildings need more of a clean, the fashion is not so grand, the food is perhaps too rich and the shops are too closed sometimes- it is just Paris and I for one am now enchanted (but I wasn’t the first two or three times I went).
The thing about a city (or a country village) that you love, is that you know you can visit it again and again; and that it will always delight you with its elements of the familiar sitting right alongside breath-taking new experiences. For me, MLS’ writing is just like that too and this piece is a very fine example.
Followed the link over here from Mr. London Street’s blog, which I read regularly. Have just spent an enjoyable five minutes thinking about places which resonate in my mind.
I realise that there was no call for people to suggest places in the post however I feel bound to share one of the loveliest places I know which is Durham Cathedral and it’s environs.
It’s partly the beautiful building, partly my memories (nostalgia) and partly the sense of peace which flows through the place. Lovely. Thank you for making me think of it.
Ed
Thanks for sharing one of your favorite bloggers! I love getting a feel for where people come from. 🙂
That was 100% MLS and I loved it. I love your ability to be so observant, so nuanced, and so enthusiastic. I think this is a very fine piece of work. When you are so keen on the world I just want to hug you, and then hold your arm in the air like you’ve just won something. Thank you this was lovely.And thank you to your host too.
Oh how beautiful!! Had to read it twice. Off to visit now.
I’ve been reading MrLS for a long time now and this is my favourite post so far.
He knows I like the humorous ones too, but this is just wonderful.
I love the subject matter, the construction, the keen observation and, of course, the twist.
Yum. Mr. London Street treats words like the delicious pastry in front of him on the table. Thanks, Lady Jennie!
I’m already partial to Mr. London Street and this is no exception.
I’ve not been to Paris, and though I’d love to go, there are places closer to home here in the United States that it would be sinful to miss. Places I haven’t visited, yet.
But that’s the tourist talking. There’s also a very special place that I’ve lived that, much to my surprise, is entirely portable. As a married woman and, later, as part of a family with four children, I’ve lived in five different states, declaring loudly each time that I’d simply never feel at home in the new place. And every time my need for comfort and joy and belonging won out. I’ve carried home right along with the moving boxes. And, as Mr. London Street suggests in his touching piece, with even the slightest attention, something like home, or Paris, or more simply, a favorite place, will blossom on your own street corner.
Delightful writing as ever Mr LS, completely fell in your trap. I have not been to Paris, but now you convince me I have. And thanks for introducing me to A Lady in France.
I think I’ve got it easy, trying to find Paris in my current home town (Montreal). This IS Paris, transplanted and gone a bit feral. Lovely job, as always, MrLS.
Thanks to everyone who stopped by – either regular readers of Jennie’s, or mine, or both – to put a comment on this. I really appreciate it. And thanks too to Jennie for having me, it’s been a pleasure.
Jackie – I’m so glad you liked this one. You’ll have to let me know what you write if it’s been at all inspired by my piece.
Bag Lady – Thanks, I’ve always been a big fan of yours too. I’m glad the trick worked, writing it I worried that it hadn’t.
Light208 – Thank you. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a bit in my writing lately, that beauty isn’t necessarily obvious or conventional but it’s no less beautiful for that.
Alyson – I’m very pleased that it worked (as I said), it’s quite hard to write something generic that could also be about Paris and somewhere else.
Jane – No, thank you. Always a massive compliment when somebody reads something more than once.
Tim – I did think hard about which way round to have it but I’m still happy with my way, though your way works just as well.
Salvo – Thank you, I suspect you have quite a few cities you could tell very similar stories about, through your beautiful photos alone. I’m really touched that you commented as I know you normally give me feedback on Twitter.
Ms Pearl – Thanks. Your post in Jennie’s Paris sequence was a hard act to follow!
caterpillar -Very kind of you. I hope you can find it where you are.
Mrs Mayhem – I’m really pleased that you liked it.
Jeannie – Well said indeed, and yes, I suppose it’s even more of a surprise to find the positive message coming from me, eh?
Melanie – Thanks for taking the time to read it and say such nice things about it too.
Grandpa – I’m pleased that you were taken in by it. As I said in some of the previous comments, I was a little worried that people would see through it quite easily.
Dolly – I’ll be interested to see that series of posts. I’ve never been to Cork but I imagine it’s a fine place.
Jen – I am a huge fan of Edinburgh and I can well imagine you would be reminded of it reading my post.
Oisin – I think this might be the first time you’ve commented on my writing, I really appreciate that. Your little corner of London is as good an illustration of what I’m talking about as anywhere I’ve been for the last few years.
Whirl – Noddy Holder is the voice of the lifts in the art gallery, what more proof of my argument could you need?
Rose – I’ve never found the food in Paris too rich, quite the contrary, I think we could definitely learn some lessons from how important food is to the French.
Sharon – That’s a lovely thing to say about my writing, very kind of you.
Ed – I have a soft spot for cathedrals myself, which is odd as I’m a fairly secular person. I’ve never been to Durham but I do rather like Winchester Cathedral myself. I agree, they are always so peaceful and so beautiful.
Rach – Thanks for commenting!
Philip – Quite right, my hostess has been absolutely fantastic. I’m glad this one brought out so much in you, that’s high praise.
ModernMom – Very flattered that you read it twice, and thanks too for heading over and checking my blog out.
HF&I – I always sense that you feel much the same way about Reading as I do, which is lovely to know.
heliocentric – You must have liked it! I think you’ve only ever commented once over at my place. Your favourite thing I’ve written? That’s amazing feedback, thank you so much. I’m never sure which people like more out of the humorous and serious ones, I always thought you had a soft spot for the office based pieces.
dusty earth mother – That simile is also lovely, lovely praise. Thank you very much for that comment.
Nicole – There are so many places to see. I sometimes feel guilty for going back to places I like again and again, but that feeling you get there is so important, we can’t all go exploring unknown frontiers all the time. Your comment is a lovely insight.
Angpang – That’s gorgeous feedback, thank you. And I’m glad you’re pleased about the introduction – Jennie’s is a great blog.
I have come back to reread this post, as I do with many of Mr LS’s posts. And enjoyed it even more this time, if that is possible. Merci bien Lady Jennie for inviting him over to guest post on your blog.