I grew up in a semi-rural town in the north of England. We call deviations from that behaviour “antisocial” and “ignorant” (which, to be fair, isn’t always the case). A London relative despairs of my family’s habit of smiling at people in the street and shops, cracking jokes with strangers, and chatting with random people in queues. He says we’re going to get mugged or murdered on one of our visits, but I tell you, almost everyone responds really well to being smiled at and treated like a human — even Londoners.

More listening to strangers and less talking about things that really don’t matter. Thanks Anaiis. x

xo~Sadie

We came back and told our friends. they said “oh that place is so cold and unfriendly.” Wait? What? No. It’s not.

And they did tell us *the best* stories. About dogs that live to 16 (and he slowly wrapped me up in his leash while his owner talked) and grape vines that want to eat a house and the best people to rent from and … and those to avoid. Oh yes. They told us great stories.

Thanks for this great reminder!

[read: “You’re evolving into someone I don’t understand anymore.”]

My own mothlike/Woodstockian flutter path through life is exactly what it needed to be in order for me to be me. Thanks for a great post.

Best,
M.