Orange Juice

London

Seeing my Nan was a extremely rare occasion, as much as I love the woman, I never get to see her. Usually I see her around Christmas, the only important time of year. I guess this time it was different.

You see, we're a fairly large family coming from all across the globe! Somehow along the way, we managed to achieve 72 of us. Of course, that's with my parents joining alliances.

Wow, I'm starting to realise now why Leonard dumped me...

I packed my bag; we were only staying there for three days, that means: a whole months worth of makeup, a curling iron and straighteners, 4 pairs of undies, and 5 outfits because British weather is unpredictable!

I like letting my hair speak for me instead of my own mouth, you can tell a lot about someone just from looking at their hair! For instance, my hair is half black, half pink. It shows my dark side and my love for all things Disney and sparkly! Like a hot 'n' sassy Cruella de Vil.

My 26 inches of wavy locks are my world. I don't know where I'd be without it!

So we left for London! It was the 21st of September, mine and Leonard's three year and four month anniversary. Well... it would've been...

Mother and I sat down on the pathetic excuse of a train and began to cuss off everyone who had ever wronged us.

Mostly Leonard.

"Is his dick as small as you say it is?" Mum took a sip of water from her bottle, her eyes keeping eye contact with mine.

"Well... yeah! Yeah! I mean, we'd rarely 'do it' but... I never complained." I checked my phone. Nope. No messages from him. Bastard.

"Well just think, the next girl he pulls will have one hell of a shock." She noticed that I was staring at my phone and put her ageing hand upon mine. "You're worth so much more than this." She was right. Partly. "Besides, you move on quick! Within a week you'll be onto the next one!"

She was right. Definitely right.

The two hour journey went relatively quickly. Fields of cows and sheep soon turned into streets of business men and women. Buildings that stretched up as far as the eye could see toward over me as I walked down memory lane that was to my mother. My heels pressed delicately against the uneven cobblestone of London. The smell of smoke and global warming filled the cool air, I breathed it in, welcoming whatever the big city had to offer. Red double-decker busses flew passed me and black cabs roared their horns in the traffic that stood dead in front of me.

"Guess we're walking to Nans." Mother shrugged, smiled and took ahead. For a short round lady, my mum could move pretty fast.

The (what seemed like) half an hour journey on feet came to a halt when I was met with a familiar small, black gate. I looked up and saw the same old brown door with the number '31' written in gold at the centre. The house never changed. The dead tree that stood unconsciously outside on the pavement was still there. The noisy neighbours were still there. Even her old netted curtains could be seen in the window.

Nan's.

I sheepishly pushed open the old, black, squeaky gate. The paint flaked off in my hands with any gentle movement. Mum knocked on the door with me waiting anxiously behind her, hoping that Nan didn't pass away over the past 20 minutes.

Then. All of a sudden, a high pitched, crackly voice pierced my ears.

"About bloody time!" She pulled me in for a hug, her fragile but spiritually strong body pressed against mine and I wrapped my arms around her. "Come in! Come in!"