On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I've fallen in love
On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. you're high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?
On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care.
the head does its best but the heart is the boss-
I admit it before I am halfway across
Wendy Cope
Whilst watching The Delicious Miss Dahl tonight she quoted from this poem, one of my favourites and one which I was given on a poster from the underground as a birthday present just before I left London. And although it made me slightly nostalgic to hear Sophie recite it, I somehow feel more at peace with having left London. A part of my heart will always be in London, but another part, I think, belongs on Exmoor.
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