It’s all in the Timing

                                                Will Rogers circa 1898

I keep thinking about this phrase and others like it, which deal with timing and time. I particularly like one attributed to Will Rogers, ‘Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save.’ Besides being a movie star in the 1920's and 30's in more than 70 films, Rogers, famed for being part Native American Indian, was also a comedian, a Vaudeville performer, and a much loved columnist and social commentator. All these things accomplished in one life, and not even a very long life- Rogers died in a plane crash in his 50's. If he felt he was rushing through life, looking for pause, then we were the ones who benefited from his too short, but prolific career.



Writing this blog is an attempt to both save and savor my time, and if a Bellini makes it all the more pleasant, than so be it...

Certainly with a Bellini, time and timing are crucial. White peaches are a late summer crop, and so for a truly sublime Bellini experience, late summer is the time to mix. The problem is that most of the year it is not late summer, and late summer is so swift. Most of the year seems to be spent trying to reach late (or any part if you live in London) summer again…and with it a sense of warmth and calm.

The days following New Year are often strange…last week I brought some flowers to a woman I didn’t know very well, who’d had in her own words, a ‘crap day.’ She started to cry, tears of appreciation and thanks. Another acquaintance started crying at the school gate after I’d asked about her holiday to Japan. An unwanted divorce, jet lag, a bad cold, and having to take the bus because the roads were too icy to drive, all culminated into one miasma of tears, hugs, and sniffles right there on the front steps of the school. Another friend’s wife decided she would drive to their house in a remote part of Scotland on a tempestuous whim. She was angry, and told her husband that she’d always thought his last name was unfortunate. She drove the 7 hours up to their cottage on one of the Scottish isles, when the rest of the country was being warned to stay safely indoors, hibernating from the frigid cold snap, and blizzard-like conditions. She spent a few hours there, and then drove back down to London, all for the sake of time.

She’d just needed some time to think, some time on her own, she’d said apologetically.

We took one of our long walks the other night. We started doing this a few years ago when we first arrived in London, in late summer. We’d hire a babysitter from about 4pm till 8, and then choose a direction, and start walking. We’ve walked to Highgate, Kensington, the River Thames, and Hampstead Heath. We’ve walked along the canal in Regent’s Park to Golborne Road and Portobello, and in the opposite direction to Camden Lock. We’ve discovered all sorts of places and things on these walks. Lovely pubs, Moroccan street food, community gardens, city zoos, and circus shops.

Our walk the other night started a little after 4, just after the sun had set. Yes, the sun is still setting at 4pm or so here! We walked up towards Regent’s Park in the bitter cold, made worse by gusts of wind coming from Russia, or so the news had said. They were warning people not to go outside unless completely necessary. Clearly, we felt it was necessary.

To our astonishment, Regent’s Park was covered in snow! We hadn’t had much snow just a few blocks south, or so it seemed, and so to discover a winter, white landscape within our reach was both thrilling and romantic. We spoke about our time in Russia, and how much it reminded us of the parks in St. Petersburg. All that was needed was some music playing from speakers in the trees, and people in furs, pushing one another on chair sledges.

As we walked up the snow-covered Broadwalk just north of Chester Rd. the wind dropped, as though in thoughtful consideration for those of us fighting our way against it. The sky turned a soft, Bellini pink- truly, it was the pink of a good Bellini- and all around us the fields glowed white. We could see through the trees and into distances we’d never seen before. And just for a moment, time stopped, and was ours for the taking.