The Art of Spontaneity
Vitamin D rains down from the sunny sky, and I sit indoors with my plans for the evening cancelled. Anything to postpone revising for the upcoming timed test, I do my chores and twiddle my thumbs. When I can take the procrastination no longer, I put my keys in my pocket with my phone and leave the house.
I have no idea where I’m going, or how safe the area is, but I need to be outside breathing the London-fresh air. Heading down the road, I reach a junction and decide to turn right. I spot a car boot open with Sainsbury shopping gaping out and neither shopper or car owner in sight nor a front door open. People must be very trusting around here, or just pushing their luck. After aimless wondering and noticing weird and ugly things, such as two rather grim and inaccurate bull dogs guarding a front door and carvings above doors that scream Victorian Times, I realise I’m walking in a massive square shape and will end up back in my room before I know it, so I begin to read signs for a diversion.
The sign I decide to follow is a small, indiscreet sign that I never knew existed. It proclaims a lake and waterside nearby. Following the sign, I come to a neatly tucked away slice of paradise. A big green field lined by an impregnable black fence. Following the fence round, I accidently stumble across a community centre, and the most gorgeous lake I’ve set eyes on. Containing swans, geese, ducks and probably a few other species my limited bird knowledge doesn’t know, I watch them dance across the blue lake. As I walk around I witness a woman on the bank with a baby strapped to her front doing Tai Chi. An elderly gentlemen and his middle-aged son are tear-eyed at a memorial bench. And not to forget our four legged friends whose mannerisms are scarily paralleled to their owners are running everywhere. As dog after dog clicks past me, I thank the heavens that the inherited gene possessed by nearly every single Pakisatani by-passed me – that same gene that has my sister, and my friends, embarrassingly running to the opposite side of the road to any four legged creature.
After a good walk, I decide to head back, ready to sit at my laptop procrastinating a little longer. As I head back to the square shape I was walking in earlier, I realise after 15 minutes that I may not actually be walking in a square and that I don’t know where I am. Unfortunately for me I left my Oyster card and money back in my room in my hurry to be spontaneous. Shrugging my shoulders, I continue with my adventure knowing that sooner or later I will return to my room, and if I really don’t know where I am, I’ll ask for directions. Not long after I recognise a road name which takes me back to the shops I pass on a daily basis – the shop with the creepy owners, the kebab shop whose menu I have yet to try, a cake shop that doesn’t seem very appetising, the charity shop where I bought 16 books for a total of four pounds, and so on.
When I get back to my room, my whole body is calmer and relaxed, and my brain is ready to take on the complexities of vitamins and minerals. A smile lingers on my face long after the walk, and I want to smirk at the poor souls who need to Google Map everything, itinerise everything and most boringest of them all – put a date in their diary to do something spontaneous. Next time I’ll be sure to take my oyster. Maybe I’ll see where a bus takes me and walk my way back? Who knows? The possibilities for an adventure are endless. - Zara Zeb
Aspire Higher We've launched a brand new exciting project for young budding entrepreneurs!
Logo Design Competition Would you like to design an exciting logo!