London: another kiss

I love London. Love, like you could love a person. It has its faults, benefits, beauty, ugliness, character, style, brittleness, warmth and can either bring you down or inspire you.

I know which bits of London inspire me, and, as a Londoner, I know them well. Their pavements and parks have the imprint of my heels at some molecular level. I go to them sometimes serendipitously because my bus takes me past – or to – them depending on where I am working. Other places involve a short or long drive at the weekend. And there is the part of London in which I live – it has pockets of beauty that may inspire me to buy a new camera soon, seeing as my current one no longer works. The formerly trusty Canon now takes pictures that are criminally underexposed, leaving me with the hint of an interesting photograph. I couldn't live in a concrete-dominated area with no trees, parks, waterways or space to breathe.

Last week, I had so much to do that I worked on Saturday, but I don't mind doing so now and again because there is always something to do in the evening: a sweet carrot. I went with two friends to watch a third friend take part in a comedy competition. S was still away, or he would definitely have come along. We used to go to live comedy frequently when we first met – The Comedy Store in the West End was a particular favourite, and we also went to smaller, more intimate venues around the capital. We've found a couple of places close enough to where we live that we can walk there and back, which means we can drink beer (or in my case, Guinness) while we watch. The comedy contest was a good night. We complained about the standard of some of the acts and sat back with surprised laughter when some of these fledgling acts managed to make the room chuckle in a good, rather than embarrassed manner.

The night before that, I went to the cinema – the film was good but the price to get in and the cost of popcorn these days is madness (something not-so-good about London, though this may just be the case with Odeon cinemas everywhere). On Sunday, having slept pretty badly (partly due to work stress, partly due to the pain in my rib), I drove to Kings Road, Chelsea, to wander with no agenda and no one to meet – exactly what I needed.

Chelsea is fantastic. Not just because it has shops, no, but it is not crowded and feels spacious for a main street, has little cafés where you need not spend more than a fiver on lunch, and is head and shoulders above its nearby cousin, Kensington High Street. Also, I discovered a road where you can park free on Sundays – a huge bonus that is going to remain secret.

I did buy a few clothes, one of which was a jacket that had an extra forty quid slashed off the price tag at the till, rendering it bargainous. Then, I had a slow lunch while I read a magazine and people-watched before going for a walk and then driving home. There was some traffic but I didn't mind too much – the route home was fairly scenic, and once on the main road, it was very quick.

Back at my castle, I flumped on to the warm sofa with M, the rabbit, by my side and watched a DVD. Maybe you can do similar things anywhere, but in London there is a lot of what I like on offer with little effort involved to enjoy it. Maybe it is that I know where to find what I like. This city is vast. Rivers, yes rivers, incredible history, a plethora of entertainment, wide green parks, good food, style, art, culture, views, and most of all? Home.