Sunday in St John's Wood

Today is Sunday, in in the morning I walked from Waterloo station down onto the Southbank where they lay out the bookstalls and you can spend hours searching through all the rows for names and books, gifts, memories. I come here a lot--I never intend to buy anything - just to look. Walked past a bus selling Mexican food - took a picture. And here I thought I'd walked almost every road in London--as I sometimes do, setting off in no particularly direction, not knowing where I want to end up, only to go and let my feet decide. Sometimes I'll see a road and just think to myself, "That's where I'll go" and I'll walk in that direction, other times I get bummed out about what the road looks like ahead so I change direction. Today I ended up at Bedford Square and took a couple of pictures--wandered into a bookshop but decided not to buy anything; I didn't feel like treating myself. Then I walked further up to Regents Park where I made up my mind up to go to St Johns, like I never did the other day. It's funny - sometimes, I'm just drawn to a place -- and it's not the place, it's just that my mind says, "Oh, let's go there. It's calm there." So I headed there. When I reached Abbey Road and turned a corner I was contemplating catching the train home, but I noticed a missed call from Marc. So I rung him up to see how he was doing. "Hey!" was his greeting. Not over-excited, nor bright - but rather, a confident, firm and determined 'Hey' to let me know that he was okay and that I was okay too. So I decided against the train yet, and kept on my search for St Johns High Street (not knowing this area too well, I couldn't remember exactly where I'd been and what roads I'd taken when I'd got there before). Marc was well; he'd just been to church and was cooking breakfast. "How great are mushrooms?" he asked. It was a good morning. He sounded so excited about his breakfast and I loved listening to him and he rattled away, shuffled about in the kitchen finding all the stuff he needed -- "To be honest, I prefer them raw," I told him. Then he started telling me about this new girl he'd been thinking about seeing, how she'd told him she really liked him--and we got onto (as always with our abstract conversations) religion, ignorance. I asked - "If I got married, would that be betraying God?" I can't remember his answer, but he managed to justify with a different topic, something like - "You are not shutting off things. You are tolerant, you are open and willing to learn." I don't think he was implying that I was ignorant - rather that I had something in me that allowed me to believe, a willingness to believe, in many things about us -- and I wasn't narrowminded and wasn't shutting things out. "Did you know -" he began, "A butterfly has five colour receptors? We, as humans, only have three. A butterfly can see two more colours than us. A whole new different light." And I said - "It's incredible to think of how much we're still missing out on, even with our eyes open." That was kind of sad. He continued, "Yeah, they say some people are born with the ability to see ultraviolet light." Me - "that would be impossible to describe." Immediately, he reacted - "Exactly! I mean - describe green for me?" After some silence, "I can't." "Exactly." I carried on walking a little longer, the conversation a nice one, a relaxing, not too-serious just chat. A sunday morning chat. "Ah, Sunday" I think I said, "Do you not find that there's something actually different about Sunday?" "Yeah it's the sabbath day, of course." "Yeah I mean like, something in the air, the atmosphere, people are different, everything feels different." "Yes we naturally act different on Sundays." Whether it was down to something deitical or not, I believed he was right. People were quiet in St Johns, yet things were happening -- I didn't go in one shop, but I felt at ease walking through the high street, with Marc philosophising and contemplating and just - sometimes - chatting on the other end of the phone, and as I walked back round up the road (now making a 'U' shape) I let him go and wished him a  very good day, telling him it was great to catch up. He wished me well too, and he told me - once again - "Mind over matter." (I'd told him that I was a feeling okay, no better - but at ease. And that I didn't know whether it had anything to do with the pills I'd been prescribed or not. He asked me again, "Do you feel better?" and I said, "Well, mood wise -" and he cut me off to confirm, "You feel better. You feel okay, better at the moment - so that's all there needs to be to it. Concentrate on that." Mind over matter). He agreed that I perhaps have autism, and it's starting to make sense. I've suspected it for a long time, but if that were to be true - I think it would make sense. The sun was out, the first time seen without much cloud in a long long time ---- I don't think this affected my mood much, it was also still rather cold, but I didn't feel like anything need bring my down. Today it was Sunday, and Sunday is always a day of rest, relax, peace. Not stress or work. I need to buy that book of poetry (purely for the title) - People on Sunday.