The grass can easily seem greener on the other side. Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. And worst of all sometimes you get something you want and realise that it’s not what you wanted at all.
Take, for example, my coveting the huge cushions plopped along the stairs in the Wellcome Collection Reading Room. The cushions looked so comfortable but there were already too many bums-on-cushions for my Londoner’s sense of personal space. I glanced over a few times to see if they would free up, but they didn’t. I considered staring someone out until they left but decided against it.
So, this morning, I stopped by early. I was caffeinated, I had an essay to read, I was ready. I was the first one there and I took my time to choose the right spot. I plumped up the cushions, arranged them just right and down I sat.
Was it comfy? Was it heck.
I fussed with the cushions and rearranged them for so long that I surprised myself. I normally apologise if someone bumps into me on the bus, so what in the hell was I doing rearranging cushions in full view of others whilst, gasping, standing up. I sat back down and thought to myself, ‘I’ve got to make a good go of this after this much fuss.’ And so I sat back down and tried my best to look comfortable.
It turns out that my bum is more sizeable than the depth of a step in the staircase to the mezzanine floor of the Wellcome Collection Reading Room. It also turns out that it is difficult to portray a calm but studious look on your face when you have to wedge a foot onto a stair in order to prompt yourself sliding down a staircase. Also, and this one is a bit left field, it is also tricky to adopt a position that locks you in without crossing your legs.
This anti leg crossing policy has been a concern for about five and a half days as I’ve seen what I think could be the beginning of varicose veins. I blame turning 30 for this. And smartphones, which keep me on the loo for longer than before and therefore leave me with longer to notice the veins on my legs.
So, those people who I’d envied, the ones that were seemingly sitting so comfortably on the stairs; were they frauds? Or did they have different bottom dimensions to me? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I stood in a puddle on the way home. I have a feeling that was karma for the bin juice.