It has been some time since I wrote about England, but I couldn’t resist this month, largely because I have just returned from a four-day mini-break there.

However, what I preconceived as a ‘break’ turned into a bitingly cold, stress-ridden chore.

My first two days were spent in London. I had a couple of errands to run, which I had wrongly assumed would take very little time. Half-way there, engulfed by rush-hour commuters at all angles, I felt the stress surge and flashbacks of my ‘previous life’ working a 9-5.30 JOB (Just Over Broke) in the West End, burst into my brain.

When I finally left the train and welcomed the coldness as it flooded my stuffy body, I saw a sea of human bodies, some flowing towards the exit, others ebbing in the direction of the underground. I inhaled a huge breath of air and set off towards the metro, desperately trying not to step on the heels of the people in front of me, while receiving regular elbow jabs and bag pokes from those on either side.

The time was 8.35am. In Spain I would just be pulling up my blinds to let in the early morning sun rays, before settling leisurely on my balcony with a fresh juice and a bowl of porridge. Yet here I was, in what seemed like a completely different world; like hell as opposed to heaven. I glanced behind and noticed that everyone looked like zombies; solemn faces, grey hair, pasty skin, a tired swagger with every step.

The tube journey was no different. It was only two stops, but in that short time I noticed each zombie vacuumed into their newspapers reading about soul-destroying subjects such as war, famine, death and destruction.

I ended up spending the entire day in London, unfortunately joining the rush hour crowd on their return leg home at 6.30pm. By this time the once-solemn faces now wore scowls, accompanied by grey pockets of exhaustion. I found myself staring into eyes which had no spark, no shimmer of joy, only shreds of despair.

Then it hit me that most of these people would repeat this monotonous existence for five consecutive days each week for the rest of their lives. In essence this was their life. They were trapped on the hamster wheel of reality, the Matrix.

And as I sat on that train back to the flat where I was staying I closed my eyes and thanked the universe whole-heartedly for my life in Spain, the sun, the laughter, this great little magazine and everything else which made up my current reality.

And to all those who live in Spain and enjoy a life away from the rat-race; the competitiveness, materialism, ego and stress, I would suggest you do the same. We all have such a lot to be thankful for…

Keidi Keating
Editor