I’m the only girl in my family. For this reason, combined with the fact that I chose a single in an apartment suite for college, I had never shared a room until I came to London. So, for someone used to having her own space, it came as quite a shock to me how weird I felt the first night that Rainey left for Amsterdam. It meant retiring to the usual, boring bedtime rituals without the supplement of a pow-wow, a video confessional, or an emotional kit-kat gobbling sesh. Cue the violins.
And yet, somehow, life in London continues. While Rainey gallivanted off with Dave and Stephanie to the land of cannabis coffee shops, the rest of us were forced to make due with the city we now call home. Oh drat. London. How unfortunate.
The great thing about London (besides the sexy accents) is there is ALWAYS something to do.
As Samuel Johnson put it:
"Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
With endless museums, concerts, cafes, theatres, parks, churches…there is no excuse for sitting at home on a Thursday night (although this statement might be rescinded during midterms.) So when Alice, Sonya, Andrew, Zach and I were doing just that (sitting at home on a Thursday night), it didn’t take us long to come to our senses. We are in LONDON!
After tossing around a few ideas, we settled on a highly praised piano bar in Kensington, a good tube ride away. And boy oh boy, we struck gold. A mere hole in the wall, snug between Mickey D’s and Ann Summers Adult Shop, it’d be easy to miss this gem, (especially if you’re distracted by it’s neighbors).
Here’s the entrance:
Once through the door and up the stairs, we were immediately wary. Something was not right here. The piano was playing itself. No, no, this is not what we signed up for. Hesitant glances were shared. Was this what spontaneity had rewarded us with? A juke box and overpriced drinks? Relief came after a quick chat with the bartender, who assured us that the pianist was on a break. Phew! The only bad news was that the kitchen had closed, so no munchies for the peanut gallery. We cut our losses and settled in around a table clearly meant for a smaller party, probably best suited for two.
That’s when it hit us.
This place is romantic.
Sexy.
Candlelit.
Oh dear.
Luckily the place wasn’t overwhelmingly packed with couples so we weren’t sticking out like awkward Americans, but Alice (who was the first to deem Piano Kensington as “sexy”), couldn’t help but gush about the date-night locale perfection. This lead to a hilarious discussion of what a perfect date is.
Alice: Whats your idea of a perfect date?
Silence. Pondering.
Andrew: What a loaded question!
Agreements from the peanut gallery.
Bri: I don’t even know if I can pick something specific.
Alice: Really? I have so many!
Andrew: Like what?
Alice: Like, okay, well….I mean, like…
Peanut gallery begins to giggle.
Alice: Ok, so that’s a hard question.
In the end, I believe we all agreed that the best dates are those that are simple, spontaneous, everyday things that are made so much better because of who you’re with. Our dream date consisted of a trip to the grocery store, cooking together in the kitchen, and winding down on the couch for dessert, PJ’s essential. Because, let’s be real, enjoying the mundane together is a big part of what makes love so great. Cue sappy love song.
At Piano Kensington:
Happy with our new find, but disappointed in our lack of fourth meal, we couldn't help but make the two second walk to Mickey D's for some snackage afterwards. This is McDonalds: London style. Notice the rose on the table. CLASSY!
Btw- Appropriately, it’s Valentines Day today. And though, no lie, I had a great one, I cannot wait for Rain Cloud to return so we can pow-wow, video confessional-ize, and eat lots of chocolate. Mmmm :]
Happy Valentines Day!
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