Impulsive

Last Sunday evening Rachel and I decided to be rather impulsive.  On a whim, we drove into London and had a lovely wander around.

It was one of those warm, balmy summer evenings which I like so much.  The idea had been brewing in my mind for a little bit and impulsively I blurted out “Let’s go to London!”.  It was about 8:00pm and, owing to the M1 roadworks, it was going to take at least an hour or so to get there.  But who cares?

We parked in Great Peter Street, Westminster.  This street has proved so useful before, along with a nearby square and the front door of a government department with its space outside for the Secretary of State’s car which I have also used to park our car, out of hours of course.

I digress.  We walked around to Parliament Square and mingled with the tourists as we crossed Westminster Bridge onto the Southbank.  From there we headed downstream and crossed back over, heading up Northumberland Avenue to Trafalgar Square.  Then we wandered down the tawdry Whitehall with its trashy tourist shops, passing by Downing Street and then back to the car in no time.

All in all it was a lovely thing to do and even Rachel, normally disliking London, admitted she enjoyed it.  We strolled and talked about this and that, sometimes not saying anything at all and simply enjoying the moment in time.  Bliss.  In no time at all we were back home and pulling into our driveway: as much as I enjoy London, I’m thankful I don’t live there.

The time when I was seriously impulsive

This trip into London is nothing compared to some things I’ve done before.

As an example, in 1982 I was on a backpacking holiday in Egypt with a friend.  We were walking through the streets of Cairo with our rucksacks on and a car pulled up alongside us and a voice asked if we’d like a lift to Alexandra.

Of course we (I) would and I promptly got into the random car with a complete stranger and encouraged my friend to get in as well.  We made it to Alex okay, we thanked our lift and never saw him again.  Neither of us was stabbed, robbed, kidnapped, fleeced or drugged, amazingly.

While this was a totally reckless thing to do and now, 40 odd years older and wiser, I shudder to think of how that could have ended up.  However life was fun in those carefree days, with a huge amounts of wanderlust, a sense of adventure and little sense of responsibility.

And nowadays

I do sometimes ask myself if I’m too cautious these days.  Instead of being spontaneous I check the weather forecast and make sure I have the right clothing.  I check the route and traffic levels.  I ensure my phone is fully charged and have some money on my, in some digital form, seldom any cash.

Indeed, perhaps I’m being a tad too cautious.  Perhaps I should lower my guard and have that 20-something fun again?  Trouble is, I’m not sure what to do….