Cosmopolitan life, supercars and a sill window table

I bought for my boyfriend’s b-day a voucher to drive a super car from an activity site. We’ve been waiting for this event since I booked it. Me for visiting the picturesque Surrey and Cranleigh village and the BF for the super drive. The excitement was growing as the GPRS showed less minutes to the final destination. Sun rose shinny over the woodlands and fields streching on each sides of the narrow road enchanting us with a splendour of colours. Nature’s brush depicted the trees in infinite shades and nuances. Less minutes still no direction board. Finally the satellite nav announces that we reached our destionation on our left exactly in front of a private house. We continued our drive as we understood it needed to be on a aerodrome hence on a field. We continued to drive on the road in the woods until a refuge in order to search where was actually located . A lady knocked on the window and asked if we had been lost.” Yes, we are looking for Everyman Racing. Drive back to the inn and there is a gate. You’re not the first to get lost and end up here”. Finally on the right route. A young man welcomes us and indicates us to park the car and take the van to the track. We queued for registering and told we need to take another van for the circuit we paid. My bf is not very good at showing enthusiasm but now he was really on mute. Eventually his turn came and he jumped on the black Lamborgini  Gallardo together with the instructor. I got a difficult job to video tape him while driving. I did what I could, zooming and squeezing among the other spectators. The 4 laps passed quick and left to the registering tent to pick up the single photo he was entitled to. I was cold and hungry and couldn’t wait to get some lunch in a pub. Inglenook fireplace, rustic style beams pub and window sill table at The Three Horseshoe in Cranleigh. We ordered burger,  chips and a glass of white wine for me. The atmosphere was relaxed though felt a little bit like we were kind of watched by everyone there just for not being familiar faces to them. BF started to watch the film I did and proved to be unhappy with it. “I have to teach you how to video record he said”. I know I make crises evertime the pics he takes of me are not beautiful but I arranged the whole event for him and the last thing wanted to hear was the little details of memorabilia didn’t like him. I was anxious to take pics on the interiors of the beams Tudorian architechture pub with wood hung tiles, inglenook fireplace, sill front house window but he delayed it and kept on watching the camera instead. I insisted to grab a content comment of him but not very tolerant this time. I was chewing my lunch very sad when I felt tears of frustration very rolling on my cheeks. He was very dry in observing my miserable state and didn’t make any effort to make it up with me. He showed just indignation at my reaction I told him that he would’t understand my dissapointment. “Why, am I so stupid? No, but you don’t offer something else, different to people just stick to the routine. Don’t try to surprise the other. Don’t take initiatives and so you don’t get frustrated when your efforts aren’t paid off. That’s the difference”. I cried quietly with liberating tears and didn’t care what others might think of. We finished the plastic burgers and chips. I slept the almost the whole way to London. From time to time I was waking up to observe the sunny afternoon spells that lit the road back home. A splendid autumnal decor embelished the driveway. I was relieved that the event ended and my tension went away. A hectic week with no time for rest.

City A.M collaborator Elena Shalneva’s article In defence of the global citizen: Bashing the cosmopolitan way of life is the stuff of the seventies drew my attention. Starting from Therasa May’s statement according to which being citizen of the world doesn’t give any direction. What if this is true? What if being all over the place doesn’t offer you an actual place and identity. Even though you speak the languages but moving all the time doesn’t give you the consistency necessary to build an existence. A common factor, history. The routine shared with the community, the continuity not just the perks of being global. Is building from scratch repeteadly your reality superficialism or fear of ties? Is travelling making you wit or the single choice is that that gives you consistency despite a routine life that makes you reflect more on your condition? Can a cosmopolitan life give one consistency and social stability? How local can the citizen of the world be in a community? Can one be everywhere and settled down?

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