I met up with Amy and Lisa in London today for Pride and I’m still buzzing from it. We’d planned to do a bit of work on the book notes while we were there, but mostly we just wanted to be out in the sun, have a laugh, and soak up the atmosphere. It was one of those rare London days where the weather actually behaves itself. Warm, bright, and properly summery. We spent the afternoon wandering around, people-watching, taking the piss out of some of the outfits, and stopping every now and then so I could scribble down a few thoughts while they took the piss out of me for still working on my day off.
At one point we grabbed a drink from one of the street vendors because we were proper thirsty. I paid eight quid for a plastic cup of warm, flat beer. Eight quid. For something that tasted like it had been poured out of someone’s shoe. It was genuinely disgusting. Warm, no head, and somehow both watery and heavy at the same time. I took one sip and nearly spat it back out. Lisa looked at me like I’d lost the plot when I still finished it. But what can I say? I was hot, I was thirsty, and I’d already handed the money over. I wasn’t about to waste eight quid on principle. So I necked it like a champion and spent the next hour feeling mildly pissed off about it while also feeling mildly pissed from it. Classic.
The sun was properly beating down too. I’d put sun cream on my face and arms like a responsible adult, but somehow completely forgot about my shoulders. Now they’re bright pink and stinging every time my top touches them. I look like I’ve been attacked by a lobster. Lisa kept pointing at them and laughing every time I winced. Amy just shook her head and told me I was a liability. I can’t even be mad about it. It was one of those days where everything felt easy. We weren’t rushing anywhere. We weren’t stressing about anything. We were just three women walking around London, taking the piss out of each other and enjoying the fact that we all actually like spending time together.
At one point we found a decent spot to sit and people-watch for a bit. That’s when they both clocked it. Lisa was the first one to say something. She looked at me, proper squinted like she was trying to work something out, and then said, “You’re different lately, you know.” I asked her what she meant and she just shrugged and said I seemed calmer. Happier. Less like I was constantly ready to fight the world. Amy nodded and agreed. She said I used to have this permanent edge to me, like I was always half a second away from going off on one about something. And now I don’t. Not as much, anyway.
I took it as a compliment, obviously. Because it is one. I’ve felt it myself for a while now, but hearing them both say it out loud made it feel more real. I’ve been lighter. Less reactive. Less likely to spiral over the smallest thing or stay up until 4 a.m. writing angry paragraphs I’ll probably delete in the morning anyway. I still get wound up about stuff, don’t get me wrong. I’m still me. But something’s shifted. I’m not carrying the same low-level rage I used to walk around with every day. And I know exactly why.
It’s mad how much difference it makes when you’re actually getting what you need. When you’re being properly looked after, even if it’s in a completely unconventional way. When someone is giving you exactly what you want without you having to ask for it or explain yourself or manage their ego afterwards. It changes things. It calms the noise down. I didn’t realise how much of my anger was just frustration dressed up as feminism until some of that frustration started getting sorted out on a regular basis. Now I’ve got space to breathe. Space to enjoy things. Space to actually sit in the sun with my mates and not feel like I’m waiting for the next thing to piss me off.
We carried on walking after that. Grabbed some food, took some photos, laughed at the absolute state of some of the outfits we saw. Lisa nearly choked on her drink when this one guy walked past in nothing but a tiny pair of gold shorts and a harness. I told her to be respectful and she told me to shut up because I was staring just as much as she was. Fair enough. The sun was out, the vibes were good, and for once I wasn’t overthinking every single thing. I just let myself enjoy it.
By the time we said goodbye I was properly sun-kissed, slightly drunk from that awful eight-quid beer, and my shoulders were on fire. But I felt good. Properly good. The kind of good that sits in your chest and makes you smile at nothing in particular. I got the train home still thinking about what they’d said. That I seem happier. That I seem more chilled. I’ve been thinking about it on and off ever since.
Because they’re right. I do feel different. I’ve got everything I want right now. Not in some big, dramatic, Instagram-perfect way. Just in the quiet, actual way that matters. I’ve got good people around me. I’ve got work that I actually care about. I’ve got freedom to write whatever I want. And I’ve got something else on the side that’s giving me exactly what I need without asking for anything complicated in return. It’s not perfect. It’s not conventional. But it’s working. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not fighting against it or overthinking it into the ground. I’m just letting it be what it is.
I got home, had a cool shower to try and calm my burnt shoulders down, and now I’m sat here on the rug with the fan on, still smiling about the day. My phone’s full of photos from earlier. Me, Amy and Lisa pulling faces, the three of us squinting into the sun, someone’s terrible attempt at a group selfie where we all look slightly unhinged. I keep scrolling through them and feeling properly grateful. Not in a cheesy way. Just in a real way. Life is good right now. Properly good. And I’m not going to overthink it or question it or wait for it to go wrong. I’m just going to enjoy it while it’s here.
Even if it did cost me eight quid for a cup of warm piss.