October 9, 2018
Dear Jojo,
I was 17 when I saw this city for the first time. The Salvation Army declared me an adult, gave me a bus voucher and a slap on the back. I’m sure they were quite weary of me ping-ponging through foster homes, only to land on their doorstep again. I used to be much harder to get along with, you see. So off I went to London, with nothing but the clothes on my back and a duffle. Popped into a pub by Tower Bridge and made nice with some uni girls who gave me a covert place to stay for a few weeks. Don’t tell your mother, but it was in their dormitory. When their resident chaperone finally discovered me there, it was a catastrophe—I’ll tell you that story someday when you’re older.
For the first six months, I had the time of my life working odd jobs and couch surfing. It was no way for a proper adult to live, but I had no plans to become a proper adult. I was so in love with the people of this city, and still am: the toothy bartenders and the raven-haired uni girls and the elbow-patched professors and the starry-eyed children. Even the endless rain left the streets looking like polished silver. I think God knows London rivals heaven, so he makes it rain all the time out of spite.
Just like with any place I’ve ever been, the restlessness welled up and I had to move on. Like the Beatles, I followed the sun. And that led me to your mother. Ever since leaving, though, I’ve been lured back. There’s something special about it you have to experience to understand. So as I walked in the rain this morning, I made a decision. This is the last time I’ll come here alone and let descriptions suffice. Next time I visit, you’re coming with me. No more delays. We’ll fly out before you start high school. We’ll go to Menier Chocolate Factory and gorge ourselves on brownies. We’ll dance on the glass floor at the top of Tower Bridge. I’ll sneak you into Blackfriar’s Crow to watch us play a set. We’ll forget our umbrellas on purpose so you can feel the way this rain washes away bad feelings and leaves you with nothing but gratitude. You have my word.
Love,
Pop
PS - I picked up a little something for you today.