Hello Old Friend.
“As I am strolling down the garden park I saw a flower glowing in the dark.
It looked so pretty and it was unique, I had to bend down just to have a peek.
Hello Old Friend, It’s really good to see you once again.” By Eric Clapton
I'm still on a Clapton theme here, despite living on Abbey Road, which is more appropriately affiliated with the Beatles. Oh well.
We are preparing to go back to our hometown in Massachusetts for a while. Hubster will take a week from work. TeenE and I will be there for a month, after which I will take her to camp, and then fly back to London to get the household ready for our next move to a quieter location a few streets from here.
Although I am looking forward to seeing friends and family, I am preparing myself to miss A Flat on Abbey Road and all my favorite parts of London. When we have gone to the US for even just a week or two, I have found myself “homesick” for London, and for my friends and life here. I know TeenE has felt the same way. Perhaps we tried so hard to steel ourselves for not being too homesick for Belmont that we overcompensated, or perhaps we just really feel “at home” here now. I do know I am somewhat reluctant to leave my routines and my environs at this time of year when the weather and gardens are so glorious. Ben Johnson wrote "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." Blogmama writes "When a woman is tired of London it's just because her feet hurt."
In order to fill up my psyche with enough of London’s gardens to get me through the next month, I went out for an explore on Wednesday. The weather was in the mid-60’s F, with bright sunny patches punctuated with rolling clouds. I wasn’t sure how my problematic shin and ankle would hold up. Usually walking is good for moving the blood back up the leg through the deep veins, but sometimes things back up and with no warning my foot and ankle will be on fire. I wanted to make sure I was never too far from a bus that could get me back to the flat, so I eschewed the relative wilderness of Hampstead Heath for the refinements of the city parks.
A quick run past Starbucks took me down St. John’s Wood High Street and along Prince Albert Road into Regent’s Park. I noticed that the Mock Orange (Philadelphus) was in bloom, all along the road, and the fragrance was heavenly. I took the shortest route possible towards Queen Mary’s Rose Garden, pausing briefly to admire the Waterfowl Collection floating around in a brackish pool. Perhaps the pool was more cack-ish than brackish. I regretted not bringing along any sunscreen and was glad that I had remembered a bottle of water.
I made my way into the circular Rose Garden and was stunned to see a wall of blue delphinium in every color clear blue; shading from royal blue through to ice blue and lavender. I have a special spot in my heart for delphinium, and had them as boutonnieres for the groom and groomsmen in our wedding. I stopped to take some photos, then made myself comfortable on a bench and took out my knitting. I am STILL working on the “magenta doily vest” project that got so much attention on the bus in Kerry, Ireland. I am 5/6ths of the way around the center medallion with the border piece, so it won’t be too much longer. Just as I got settled, the sun was obscured by clouds, which played chase for the next half hour or so. As the wind got stronger, so did the scent of the 10,000 roses in the immediate vicinity. I hope to remember that scent every time I wear my magenta doily-vest.
I had to rip out about 16 rows of knitting from the night before, so once that was all re-knitted I packed up the “doily” and went over to the little island that is accessed by a gate. A photo op ensued as a pair of black swans did there “necks into hearts” mating dance with swan calls as soundtrack. Of course I couldn’t get the camera ready in time so only have a photo of the male swimming away in a huff.
I wasn’t quite done with my nature time so decided to take a route out of the park that I had never seen before (in this lifetime, at least J) so I headed north up the Broad Walk and came out on Prince Albert Road near the zoo and the base of Primrose Hill. The legs and feet still felt great, so I puffed my way up to the top of the hill and took in the panoramic view of the city. The green grass, the wind, and the strong sun cast a sleeping spell on me, so I took off my shoes and (support) socks and stretched out. I was not the only person in full communion with the grass of Primrose Hill that day.
My reverie was interrupted briefly by a fluffy golden Shi-tzu named Sunshine, who was off-lead and befriending everyone with a rucksack in hopes of scoring a snack. S/he had no luck with me so went on to the next admirer.
The hum of voices speaking in a dozen different languages was punctuated by the sound of a mower growing ever closer, so I decided to get out while I was still relatively relaxed. My head was fuzzy from all the sun and wind and I picked my way back to St. John’s Wood gingerly so as to keep the feet in good form. I had the feeling that I was homesick for London and I hadn’t even left it yet!
Love and Light
- BlogMama
- London, NW8, United Kingdom
- A "recovering academic", I have left the world of research and teaching Psychology. My current focus is on offering hypnotherapy, Reiki, and spiritual support for clients and hospice residents. I like to express myself through the arts, especially drama (the quirky-comic relief part),stand-up comedy, painting, and the fiber arts.
Showing posts with label Abbey Road. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abbey Road. Show all posts
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Monday, December 8, 2008
We eat, drink, and see that musician guy
December 8th, 2008
It was twenty-eight years ago today that I had a call from my High School buddy Jason at around 10 pm. He told me that John Lennon had been shot and killed in New York City. I refused to believe it, saying "That's not funny". He finally convinced me that it was true. We talked and cried a bit and then I hung up and turned on the radio. The DJ on WZLX was crying, and asking people to call in requests. I called and got through right away, and requested George Harrison's "Isn't it a Pity". This made the DJ cry again.
It was so sad. I wore black to work for two weeks straight.
I was reminded of this as I passed the wrought iron fence in front of the Abbey Road Studios today on my way home from a long day out. There were two bunches of flowers, and a note of remembrance. I wondered what, if anything, Sir Paul might be doing today as he remembered his friend and colleague.
Hubster and I had formulated a plan to go up to a pub called the Clifton, on Clifton Hill in St. John's Wood, about seven streets north on Abbey Road. We enjoyed our two-for-the-price-of-one steaks and a glass of Erdinger white beer and headed out into the night.
As we walked along, Hubster announced "I want to cross the street, and so I shall". I dutifully followed him. After about ten seconds of walking, a man approached us out of the darkness. I had a quick look, and it was Sir Paul. He saw me looking his way, and looked out toward the street. That was my sign to look down as we passed and completely ignore him. I decided that he must have mastered the art of avoidance long ago, almost like the Jedi mind trick. "There is nothing to interest you here".
Hubster walked on in oblivion. I waited a good twenty seconds before I said "did you see who that was?" He didn't believe me, and still thinks I am making it up. I am reliably informed, however that Sir Paul's daughter lives on that street, and that he is often seen in the Clifton. Perhaps he was going there to lift a pint in memory of John. I hope so.
It was twenty-eight years ago today that I had a call from my High School buddy Jason at around 10 pm. He told me that John Lennon had been shot and killed in New York City. I refused to believe it, saying "That's not funny". He finally convinced me that it was true. We talked and cried a bit and then I hung up and turned on the radio. The DJ on WZLX was crying, and asking people to call in requests. I called and got through right away, and requested George Harrison's "Isn't it a Pity". This made the DJ cry again.
It was so sad. I wore black to work for two weeks straight.
I was reminded of this as I passed the wrought iron fence in front of the Abbey Road Studios today on my way home from a long day out. There were two bunches of flowers, and a note of remembrance. I wondered what, if anything, Sir Paul might be doing today as he remembered his friend and colleague.
Hubster and I had formulated a plan to go up to a pub called the Clifton, on Clifton Hill in St. John's Wood, about seven streets north on Abbey Road. We enjoyed our two-for-the-price-of-one steaks and a glass of Erdinger white beer and headed out into the night.
As we walked along, Hubster announced "I want to cross the street, and so I shall". I dutifully followed him. After about ten seconds of walking, a man approached us out of the darkness. I had a quick look, and it was Sir Paul. He saw me looking his way, and looked out toward the street. That was my sign to look down as we passed and completely ignore him. I decided that he must have mastered the art of avoidance long ago, almost like the Jedi mind trick. "There is nothing to interest you here".
Hubster walked on in oblivion. I waited a good twenty seconds before I said "did you see who that was?" He didn't believe me, and still thinks I am making it up. I am reliably informed, however that Sir Paul's daughter lives on that street, and that he is often seen in the Clifton. Perhaps he was going there to lift a pint in memory of John. I hope so.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Little Venice Tour
Last Sunday, already a full week ago, I headed out for a guided walking tour of the Little Venice area. This is a neighborhood contiguous with Maida Vale (postcode W9), just on the other side of St. John’s Wood, that we call home. The starting point for the walk was the Warwick Avenue Underground stop, about fifteen minutes from A Flat on Abbey Road.
A group of about twelve people had gathered for the guided tour, which took us into another one of the high-rent districts in north west London. The area had originally been owned by the Bishop of London. It is full of Georgian and Regency white stucco townhomes, previously occupied by the mistresses of both wealthy men of the City and higher-ups in the Church of England hierarchy. Now the neighborhood is occupied by wealthy professional bankers, lawyers, and several prominent members of the entertainment industry.
The defining feature of Little Venice is a waterway that connects the Grand Union canal to the Regent’s Canal. The canal itself is lined with canal boats, in which Londoners of all income levels reside. The guide had us give the “Royal Wave” to Dennis of Little Venice, who lives aboard his canal boat year-round. He is an older gentleman who used to serve as an entertainment director aboard a large cruise ship, and is now retired. Apparently he looks after the garden plantings that line his particular area of the canal. We were treated to a returned “royal wave” by Dennis, who was watching for us out of one of his windows. His boat had a "gondola" (i.e. converted canoe) decorating the roof, and was also be-decked in potted flowering plants.
Much of the area also has “villas” in an Italianate architectural style, complete with “campanile” –styled faux bell towers. These single-family homes are either multi-multi-million pound residences for the very very rich, or have been carved up into a number of individual flats for the plain old very rich.
Our informative walk was punctuated by witty commentary by our guide, including “mind the slippery bits” when we were walking on wet leaves in mud, and “mind the crap” when we were on pavement that had been “fouled” by dogs.
The weather was in the high forties with a fine mist falling for part of the walk. I discovered that removing my glasses, which are mostly for close-work anyway, allowed me to enjoy the experience without having to wipe them incessantly.
I returned to A Flat on Abbey Road after a good two hours’ brisk walk. I would estimate that we covered between three and four miles, much of it along or near the canal, and all of it very enjoyable. The jaunt was capped off by a cup of tea.
A group of about twelve people had gathered for the guided tour, which took us into another one of the high-rent districts in north west London. The area had originally been owned by the Bishop of London. It is full of Georgian and Regency white stucco townhomes, previously occupied by the mistresses of both wealthy men of the City and higher-ups in the Church of England hierarchy. Now the neighborhood is occupied by wealthy professional bankers, lawyers, and several prominent members of the entertainment industry.
The defining feature of Little Venice is a waterway that connects the Grand Union canal to the Regent’s Canal. The canal itself is lined with canal boats, in which Londoners of all income levels reside. The guide had us give the “Royal Wave” to Dennis of Little Venice, who lives aboard his canal boat year-round. He is an older gentleman who used to serve as an entertainment director aboard a large cruise ship, and is now retired. Apparently he looks after the garden plantings that line his particular area of the canal. We were treated to a returned “royal wave” by Dennis, who was watching for us out of one of his windows. His boat had a "gondola" (i.e. converted canoe) decorating the roof, and was also be-decked in potted flowering plants.
Much of the area also has “villas” in an Italianate architectural style, complete with “campanile” –styled faux bell towers. These single-family homes are either multi-multi-million pound residences for the very very rich, or have been carved up into a number of individual flats for the plain old very rich.
Our informative walk was punctuated by witty commentary by our guide, including “mind the slippery bits” when we were walking on wet leaves in mud, and “mind the crap” when we were on pavement that had been “fouled” by dogs.
The weather was in the high forties with a fine mist falling for part of the walk. I discovered that removing my glasses, which are mostly for close-work anyway, allowed me to enjoy the experience without having to wipe them incessantly.
I returned to A Flat on Abbey Road after a good two hours’ brisk walk. I would estimate that we covered between three and four miles, much of it along or near the canal, and all of it very enjoyable. The jaunt was capped off by a cup of tea.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The actual London Five-Oh
Don Ho of Hawaii Five-Oh, eat your heart out. This is what BlogMom did for her big London Five-Oh.
The day started dreamily with Hubster getting up to "supervise" Teen's morning rituals, leaving me to laze in bed. At one point he came in and asked if I ever thought I'd be living in London on my 50th birthday. I said "YES"!!! I guess he forgot he was married to a semi-professional intutive.
Enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and received the first congratulatory phone call of the day from New York Sister. I told you she would not let me forget the magnitude of the occasion. She was calling at what was her 5 am!
I had planned to take a long walk on Hampstead Heath (my favorite haunt from my year here in 1978) but the weather did not cooperate. The forecast was calling for heavy rain, and although I NEVER leave home without my umbrella, I knew better than to slog through Hill and Heath and Wood in that kind of weather. I turned to Plan B: Taking the bus up Abbey Road to The End of the Line.
I know what you're thinking--"whoa, she's really living large over there! All the way to the End of the Line! Whatever could she be thinking?" Well, I happen to know that the End of the Line is the Brent Cross shopping mall. I also wanted to see what was at the upper end of Abbey Road, as I hadn't been more than 1/2 mile up, and that was on foot.
So I took the clankety old brass-gated "lift" down to the lobby and went to the bus shelter right near the famous pedestrian crossing. Pretty soon the 189 chugged into sight and I whipped out my Oyster Card. This is the plastic card with stored value that one needs to ride the buses and underground trains in London. I went up to the upper deck of the double-decker red bus and snagged the prime seat right in the front.
The 189 goes straight up Abbey Road until the boundary of St. John's Wood and South Hampstead. Shortly thereafter, it makes a left turn (heading West), leaving the rustle of leafy suburban atmosphere behind for the bustle of Kilburn High Road and the downright hustle of Cricklewood Broadway. Just before the turn a sign advised that there were "Humps for 340 Yards" (insert snicker here). I saw stores with unusual names juxtaposed with shops with even more unusual names.
Our Oliver Road neighbors Leslie and Tom, plus their TeenY will be thrilled to hear of a shop called ShaSha.com. (see photo) That is their name, only spelled differently. It appears to carry really inexpensive clothes for teens. We will have to go there when they come to visit.
A grocery store is called "Iceland.co.uk" and sells "food you can trust". It's a good thing, I wouldn't want any untrustworthy food in my fridge!
A store called "Bathrooms 4 You" has above it a store called "Good 4 You", which sells discounted toys, household goods, and cosmetics. Across the street, The African Food Centre sells fresh vegetables and African magazines and vegetables. B & Q Warehouse has orange lettering and must be a cousin of Home Depot. The housing that is supported with public funds is euphemistically called a "council estate", while the people who pay for their own housing live in buildings called "courts", "lodges", and "gardens".
The bus chugged on. We passed a little park marked "Millenium Breathing Space". I'm not sure if that was somebody's idea of a joke, or the real name of a very weedy spot. The signs did look somewhat official. Just as we passed the Hendon Football Club, an announcement came over the bus's public address system saying that "This bus is being held here for a few minutes in order to help regulate the service." In other words, we had been early! We were making too good time. We needed to delay ourselves to get back on schedule. We paused next to a large green hilly field. Off in the distance, evenly spaced about 50 feet apart from each other, grazed a flock of ....crows. This is not a typo. About three dozen big black ravens were in the field, all walking in the same direction, taking a few steps, then pecking the ground, and moving to a new spot. They were grazing just like cows! I know some birds can be good mimics, but these crows think they are cows!
After pausing for three minutes, our journey bus northward resumed as we crossed a "Humped Zebra Crossing". Perhaps this refers to a striped dromedary? If not, it must mean a raised pedestrian crossing.
Pretty soon the Brent Cross Shopping Centre hove into view. On one side of the highway that we crossed, there was a Borders bookstore, and a T K Maxx (also NOT a typo). The bus terminus was at a mall containing hundreds of stores, including Marks & Spencer, H & M, John Lewis, and (gasp) Claire's accessories, the staple of every US mall, selling cheapy costume jewelry and hair accessories to bored teens.
I spent a good hour poking around the home goods section of John Lewis, looking casually at all their rolls of upholstery fabric, and more seriously at their duvet (down quilt) covers. The flat came fully furnished with double-sized sheets and duvet, but no cover. I was challenged to find one that would co-ordinate with the rust red curtains also provided, without going wacko-wild with eye-popping oranges, reds and purples, as well as without breaking the bank. See photo to decide for yourself if the results are modern yet tasteful, trendy yet retro.
During the hour I was in the mall it must have poured torrents of rain. When I returned outside there were soggy masses of potential bus passengers spilling out from under the bus shelters. There were at least ten different alighting points, each with a letter, and I had to visit six of them before I found the appropriate bus stop for the 189 southbound.
The return trip provided me with even more delightful shop-name juxtapositions. There was the Bosnia and Herzegovena Community Centre & Charity Bookshop, right near the Chinese Medicine Centre of London. Across the street a sign advertised "Polski Sklep", near the King's Head (Dive Bar and Music Joint), not to be confused with the Soho Beach House Bar & Chill Out Club. The aptly-named Blanks Music Store was empty and the anti-theft grills were down and locked. Bellview Airlines advertised discount flights. I do not know to what destinations they fly, I just hope it's not Bell(e)view Hospital (sorry, a joke only NYers will get). Nayong Pilipino was near both a Kebab House AND Sam's Chicken (great tasting, great price!) Rose's Bistro Cafe had as her neighbors Speedy Noodle and Ahmad Zai's "Superstore", whose storefront was all of 12 feet wide.
Buka , (name of a former boss), a business of an indeterminate nature, was near Fase 2 bar and Restaurant AND the Citizens's Advice Bureau. Do they give advice on avoiding Buka's? Subway and KFC (complete with Colonel Sanders and his goatee, an advertising icon no longer used in the US) were juxtaposed with Spicy Basil--Authentic Thai food. Close by was Oakham, Your Local Money Store. No Cash, No Credit, No Problem. We will loan you money at an exhorbitant rate of interest so you can spend it on bad fast food.
We finally turned off Kilburn High Road and passed Sha-Sha.com, the signal that we were once again entering our own neighborhood.
I returned to the flat around 14:00 and was greeted by Hubster, who asked me if I had gotten caught in the rain. It turned out his trip to the St. John's Wood library was marred by precipitation. I do not think that he has learned the rule about never going out without your brolly.
Another B-day call came in shortly thereafter. It was a friend from my University College London days, someone with whom I had hung out in the Drama Society there in 1978. Hubster and I visited with him and his wife-to-be while we were on our honeymoon here in 1986. We've gotten together with them and their kids a few times since then when we've been in London. I was touched to have received a card from them and even more surprised by the telephone call.
TeenE came home from school about 15:15.
The birthday festivities got underway when I received my much-anticipated gift, a trendy rolling grocery cart. No old-lady type for this 50-and-up. I'll be stylin' on the High Street with my collapsible black-and-pink swirly-mod design waterproof shopping trolley. Yowza!
Around 16:00, the three of us then went to the Abbey Cafe for "tea". Cappucinos, tea, tuna melts, and a piece of celebratory pecan pie were thoroughly enjoyed.
We repaired back to the flat, but not before I had a pleasant interlude sitting in the little park nearby. It was the hour at which all the little tykes begin to melt down and their mummies or nannies take them home for "tea" (which is a light evening meal).
The approaching low pressure system then worked its usual magic, triggering a mild migraine. I took a pill and went to bed early, listening to the sound of the heavy rain on the leaves of the London Plane Tree outside our bedroom window.
Historical Note: If you look at the photo on the cover of the Beatles' Abbey Road album, on the left side of the road there is a white Volkswagen bug/beetle. Down past that there is a group of trees, and past that there is a red mail/post box. The big tree out our window can clearly be seen in this photo!
The day started dreamily with Hubster getting up to "supervise" Teen's morning rituals, leaving me to laze in bed. At one point he came in and asked if I ever thought I'd be living in London on my 50th birthday. I said "YES"!!! I guess he forgot he was married to a semi-professional intutive.
Enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and received the first congratulatory phone call of the day from New York Sister. I told you she would not let me forget the magnitude of the occasion. She was calling at what was her 5 am!
I had planned to take a long walk on Hampstead Heath (my favorite haunt from my year here in 1978) but the weather did not cooperate. The forecast was calling for heavy rain, and although I NEVER leave home without my umbrella, I knew better than to slog through Hill and Heath and Wood in that kind of weather. I turned to Plan B: Taking the bus up Abbey Road to The End of the Line.
I know what you're thinking--"whoa, she's really living large over there! All the way to the End of the Line! Whatever could she be thinking?" Well, I happen to know that the End of the Line is the Brent Cross shopping mall. I also wanted to see what was at the upper end of Abbey Road, as I hadn't been more than 1/2 mile up, and that was on foot.
So I took the clankety old brass-gated "lift" down to the lobby and went to the bus shelter right near the famous pedestrian crossing. Pretty soon the 189 chugged into sight and I whipped out my Oyster Card. This is the plastic card with stored value that one needs to ride the buses and underground trains in London. I went up to the upper deck of the double-decker red bus and snagged the prime seat right in the front.
The 189 goes straight up Abbey Road until the boundary of St. John's Wood and South Hampstead. Shortly thereafter, it makes a left turn (heading West), leaving the rustle of leafy suburban atmosphere behind for the bustle of Kilburn High Road and the downright hustle of Cricklewood Broadway. Just before the turn a sign advised that there were "Humps for 340 Yards" (insert snicker here). I saw stores with unusual names juxtaposed with shops with even more unusual names.
Our Oliver Road neighbors Leslie and Tom, plus their TeenY will be thrilled to hear of a shop called ShaSha.com. (see photo) That is their name, only spelled differently. It appears to carry really inexpensive clothes for teens. We will have to go there when they come to visit.
A grocery store is called "Iceland.co.uk" and sells "food you can trust". It's a good thing, I wouldn't want any untrustworthy food in my fridge!
A store called "Bathrooms 4 You" has above it a store called "Good 4 You", which sells discounted toys, household goods, and cosmetics. Across the street, The African Food Centre sells fresh vegetables and African magazines and vegetables. B & Q Warehouse has orange lettering and must be a cousin of Home Depot. The housing that is supported with public funds is euphemistically called a "council estate", while the people who pay for their own housing live in buildings called "courts", "lodges", and "gardens".
The bus chugged on. We passed a little park marked "Millenium Breathing Space". I'm not sure if that was somebody's idea of a joke, or the real name of a very weedy spot. The signs did look somewhat official. Just as we passed the Hendon Football Club, an announcement came over the bus's public address system saying that "This bus is being held here for a few minutes in order to help regulate the service." In other words, we had been early! We were making too good time. We needed to delay ourselves to get back on schedule. We paused next to a large green hilly field. Off in the distance, evenly spaced about 50 feet apart from each other, grazed a flock of ....crows. This is not a typo. About three dozen big black ravens were in the field, all walking in the same direction, taking a few steps, then pecking the ground, and moving to a new spot. They were grazing just like cows! I know some birds can be good mimics, but these crows think they are cows!
After pausing for three minutes, our journey bus northward resumed as we crossed a "Humped Zebra Crossing". Perhaps this refers to a striped dromedary? If not, it must mean a raised pedestrian crossing.
Pretty soon the Brent Cross Shopping Centre hove into view. On one side of the highway that we crossed, there was a Borders bookstore, and a T K Maxx (also NOT a typo). The bus terminus was at a mall containing hundreds of stores, including Marks & Spencer, H & M, John Lewis, and (gasp) Claire's accessories, the staple of every US mall, selling cheapy costume jewelry and hair accessories to bored teens.
I spent a good hour poking around the home goods section of John Lewis, looking casually at all their rolls of upholstery fabric, and more seriously at their duvet (down quilt) covers. The flat came fully furnished with double-sized sheets and duvet, but no cover. I was challenged to find one that would co-ordinate with the rust red curtains also provided, without going wacko-wild with eye-popping oranges, reds and purples, as well as without breaking the bank. See photo to decide for yourself if the results are modern yet tasteful, trendy yet retro.
During the hour I was in the mall it must have poured torrents of rain. When I returned outside there were soggy masses of potential bus passengers spilling out from under the bus shelters. There were at least ten different alighting points, each with a letter, and I had to visit six of them before I found the appropriate bus stop for the 189 southbound.
The return trip provided me with even more delightful shop-name juxtapositions. There was the Bosnia and Herzegovena Community Centre & Charity Bookshop, right near the Chinese Medicine Centre of London. Across the street a sign advertised "Polski Sklep", near the King's Head (Dive Bar and Music Joint), not to be confused with the Soho Beach House Bar & Chill Out Club. The aptly-named Blanks Music Store was empty and the anti-theft grills were down and locked. Bellview Airlines advertised discount flights. I do not know to what destinations they fly, I just hope it's not Bell(e)view Hospital (sorry, a joke only NYers will get). Nayong Pilipino was near both a Kebab House AND Sam's Chicken (great tasting, great price!) Rose's Bistro Cafe had as her neighbors Speedy Noodle and Ahmad Zai's "Superstore", whose storefront was all of 12 feet wide.
Buka , (name of a former boss), a business of an indeterminate nature, was near Fase 2 bar and Restaurant AND the Citizens's Advice Bureau. Do they give advice on avoiding Buka's? Subway and KFC (complete with Colonel Sanders and his goatee, an advertising icon no longer used in the US) were juxtaposed with Spicy Basil--Authentic Thai food. Close by was Oakham, Your Local Money Store. No Cash, No Credit, No Problem. We will loan you money at an exhorbitant rate of interest so you can spend it on bad fast food.
We finally turned off Kilburn High Road and passed Sha-Sha.com, the signal that we were once again entering our own neighborhood.
I returned to the flat around 14:00 and was greeted by Hubster, who asked me if I had gotten caught in the rain. It turned out his trip to the St. John's Wood library was marred by precipitation. I do not think that he has learned the rule about never going out without your brolly.
Another B-day call came in shortly thereafter. It was a friend from my University College London days, someone with whom I had hung out in the Drama Society there in 1978. Hubster and I visited with him and his wife-to-be while we were on our honeymoon here in 1986. We've gotten together with them and their kids a few times since then when we've been in London. I was touched to have received a card from them and even more surprised by the telephone call.
TeenE came home from school about 15:15.
The birthday festivities got underway when I received my much-anticipated gift, a trendy rolling grocery cart. No old-lady type for this 50-and-up. I'll be stylin' on the High Street with my collapsible black-and-pink swirly-mod design waterproof shopping trolley. Yowza!
Around 16:00, the three of us then went to the Abbey Cafe for "tea". Cappucinos, tea, tuna melts, and a piece of celebratory pecan pie were thoroughly enjoyed.
We repaired back to the flat, but not before I had a pleasant interlude sitting in the little park nearby. It was the hour at which all the little tykes begin to melt down and their mummies or nannies take them home for "tea" (which is a light evening meal).
The approaching low pressure system then worked its usual magic, triggering a mild migraine. I took a pill and went to bed early, listening to the sound of the heavy rain on the leaves of the London Plane Tree outside our bedroom window.
Historical Note: If you look at the photo on the cover of the Beatles' Abbey Road album, on the left side of the road there is a white Volkswagen bug/beetle. Down past that there is a group of trees, and past that there is a red mail/post box. The big tree out our window can clearly be seen in this photo!
Monday, August 18, 2008
A Flat on Days Zero and One
Day Zero: We fly to London
Left our neighbor Leslie and Tom’s at 5:45 am. Their friend John drove us to the airport.
Arrived at Heathrow with no problem, just a little convincing at immigration.
Collected luggage. Filled two rolling carts, which are free, with four bags each, two 50 lb. checked bags, two lighter checked bags, one computer, one bookbag, one asst things, one backpack.
Took cab directly to Abbey Road, as we would not have been able to manage all that on the train to Paddington.
Pressed bell 16 on brass placque. Hubster does not know how to work the video phone entry thingy, so he came down in the “lift” , which is an elevator with 2 sets of brass gates as doors. You can see the innards of the elevator shaft as you rise through the center of the pre-war brick building. This particular block of Abbey Road was less touched by bombing in the Blitz, within a quarter mile are whole swaths of 1950's-era boxes and taller 1960's icky modern blocks of flats.
Entered A flat on Abbey Road at long last.
It is really nice, with hardwood floors, nice curtains, tastefull Picasso prints, contemporary furniture, new granite kitchen and two newly redone bathrooms. The kitchen and baths are actually nicer than in any home that we have owned.
Pebbled glass next to tub gives persons on fire escape or in adjacent units nice pebbly view of naked bodies. No way to hang a curtain except for a tension rod. Luckily, I brought a long swatch of tie-died silk that is supposed to be a belly dancing veil. This is the new temporary curtain, hooked over the handle used to open the window.
Windows have no screens. Does this mean there are no bugs or bats in London? What about pigeons on the windowsills?
The tree outside Teen’s window (which is visible in the old photos of the Abbey Road album cover) is most likely a London Plane tree, although it has giant gumball-looking things hanging from it, so I’m really not sure yet. It is NOT a chestnut tree, as there is also one of those nearby and it has different leaves, and has a sign on it marked "Warning: Falling Conkers".
Went to bed at 11 pm their time, 6 pm ours. It was Saturday night, so there were a few revelers nearby in the street. Melatonin plus Tylenol PM helped fuel a good night’s sleep.
A Flat Day One
Awoke at first light for a while, and then again a few times later. When I finally got up for good, I was surprised to see that it was already 10:30 am. Tried to wake up Teen, who came out to the lounge for a few minutes, then grumped back to bed.
Decided to go out for a walk to get the lay of the land.
Went North on Abbey Road and took a street that went West toward Maida Vale. My walk took me Straight to the Violet Hill Park, a tiny but lovely garden and play space with lots of Mums and Dads and toddlers and American accents. St. John’s Wood is home to many Americans due to the presence of the American School nearby.
Went to the Violet Hill Studios, which I have been researching on line for months. It is a Centre for Natural Healing and rents space to practitioners such as me. Of course, it was 11:20 am, so not many people were around, but I met one woman waiting for her Massage during Pregnancy session, and when the practitioner came out to greet her, I met her, too. She gave me all the relevant lists of practitioners and workshops and encouraged me to come back when the founder would be there.
Went around the corner to St. Mark’s C of E church, peeked in the doors. The service was just ending as they were playing the final hymn. ALMOST went to coffee hour, but decided I woundn’t have time to make it back to the flat in time if I did that.
Walked North a bit to the top of Hamilton Terrace, then took a right and went back over to Abbey Road. Everywhere there are neat townhouses behind brick walls, with a paved spot for a car park and neat little gardens and well-trimmed trees and shrubs.
Took a detour down Blenheim Terrace, which is mixed residential and business, including Natural Burger (100% Scottish Black Angus beef!!) a very pricey French restaurant (with menu in French), two coffee houses (independents, not chains) and an Italian restaurant. Also a Mental Health Trust.
Back down Abbey Road, I spotted an “arcade” located in the ground floor of a block of flats. Here, an arcade is a row of shops, including a hair salon, a grocer, a dry cleaner, etc.
Went back to the flat WITHOUT going through the famous crosswalk.
Collected Teen and Hubster, and we set out on a trial walk over to school. To the back entrance, it’s five minutes, to the main entrance, eight.
From there we walked over to the High Street, and had lunch at my choice restaurant, which was sadly disappointing. Stopped by two cell phone stores and learned that without working bank cards, we had no chance of signing up for any plan. Took brochures any way. Hubster and Teen headed back to the flat for proof of residency paperwork, whilst I.... (get out your maps)
...walked down the High Street to Prince Albert Road, which runs along the northern edge of Regents Park. Found a gate into the park, and was excited to find a HUGE patch of blackberry bushes growing near a bridge over the Regent’s Park Canal. Went down a path to the canal and walked West until I got to the next stairway up to the street level.
The Canal used to be plied by barges delivering coal to central Londoners. The barges were towed by horses or mules that walked alongside. Walking along the canal is a little like walking along the Seine in Paris, but the water is narrower, shallower, and without the smell of piss that permeates quays. Many people were walking and biking on the now-sunny afternoon.
Walked up Park Road, past Lord’s Cricket Ground, took a left on Wellington Place and a right on Cavendish Avenue, also known as the street on which Sir Paul McCartney lives.
Breezed by his house, which is small and backs onto the grounds of the Wellington Hospital. Lots of security signs, cameras, etc. so I walked briskly by without looking like a tourist gawking. No one else was on the street at all.
Took a left onto Circus Road, then doubled back, crossed Wellington Rd. on Circus, and wound up back at St. John’s wood High St. at the appointed time to meet the Hubster and Teen. Gave up on the phone buying for the day.
Walked back to the flat, this time using the FAMOUS CROSSWALK on Abbey Road. I realized that I am no longer an Abbey Road Zebra Crossing Virgin.
Spent the evening watching Olympic coverage as well as a strange programme about weird British sports like Cheese Rolling, Snail Racing, Tiddley Wink Tournaments, and throwing a beer-soaked towel at a moving circle of people. Hubster cooked us up some spaghetti and corn-on-the-cob, and we perused the mobile phone brochures. Still no closer to making a choice, as there are too many details to comprehend.
Left our neighbor Leslie and Tom’s at 5:45 am. Their friend John drove us to the airport.
Arrived at Heathrow with no problem, just a little convincing at immigration.
Collected luggage. Filled two rolling carts, which are free, with four bags each, two 50 lb. checked bags, two lighter checked bags, one computer, one bookbag, one asst things, one backpack.
Took cab directly to Abbey Road, as we would not have been able to manage all that on the train to Paddington.
Pressed bell 16 on brass placque. Hubster does not know how to work the video phone entry thingy, so he came down in the “lift” , which is an elevator with 2 sets of brass gates as doors. You can see the innards of the elevator shaft as you rise through the center of the pre-war brick building. This particular block of Abbey Road was less touched by bombing in the Blitz, within a quarter mile are whole swaths of 1950's-era boxes and taller 1960's icky modern blocks of flats.
Entered A flat on Abbey Road at long last.
It is really nice, with hardwood floors, nice curtains, tastefull Picasso prints, contemporary furniture, new granite kitchen and two newly redone bathrooms. The kitchen and baths are actually nicer than in any home that we have owned.
Pebbled glass next to tub gives persons on fire escape or in adjacent units nice pebbly view of naked bodies. No way to hang a curtain except for a tension rod. Luckily, I brought a long swatch of tie-died silk that is supposed to be a belly dancing veil. This is the new temporary curtain, hooked over the handle used to open the window.
Windows have no screens. Does this mean there are no bugs or bats in London? What about pigeons on the windowsills?
The tree outside Teen’s window (which is visible in the old photos of the Abbey Road album cover) is most likely a London Plane tree, although it has giant gumball-looking things hanging from it, so I’m really not sure yet. It is NOT a chestnut tree, as there is also one of those nearby and it has different leaves, and has a sign on it marked "Warning: Falling Conkers".
Went to bed at 11 pm their time, 6 pm ours. It was Saturday night, so there were a few revelers nearby in the street. Melatonin plus Tylenol PM helped fuel a good night’s sleep.
A Flat Day One
Awoke at first light for a while, and then again a few times later. When I finally got up for good, I was surprised to see that it was already 10:30 am. Tried to wake up Teen, who came out to the lounge for a few minutes, then grumped back to bed.
Decided to go out for a walk to get the lay of the land.
Went North on Abbey Road and took a street that went West toward Maida Vale. My walk took me Straight to the Violet Hill Park, a tiny but lovely garden and play space with lots of Mums and Dads and toddlers and American accents. St. John’s Wood is home to many Americans due to the presence of the American School nearby.
Went to the Violet Hill Studios, which I have been researching on line for months. It is a Centre for Natural Healing and rents space to practitioners such as me. Of course, it was 11:20 am, so not many people were around, but I met one woman waiting for her Massage during Pregnancy session, and when the practitioner came out to greet her, I met her, too. She gave me all the relevant lists of practitioners and workshops and encouraged me to come back when the founder would be there.
Went around the corner to St. Mark’s C of E church, peeked in the doors. The service was just ending as they were playing the final hymn. ALMOST went to coffee hour, but decided I woundn’t have time to make it back to the flat in time if I did that.
Walked North a bit to the top of Hamilton Terrace, then took a right and went back over to Abbey Road. Everywhere there are neat townhouses behind brick walls, with a paved spot for a car park and neat little gardens and well-trimmed trees and shrubs.
Took a detour down Blenheim Terrace, which is mixed residential and business, including Natural Burger (100% Scottish Black Angus beef!!) a very pricey French restaurant (with menu in French), two coffee houses (independents, not chains) and an Italian restaurant. Also a Mental Health Trust.
Back down Abbey Road, I spotted an “arcade” located in the ground floor of a block of flats. Here, an arcade is a row of shops, including a hair salon, a grocer, a dry cleaner, etc.
Went back to the flat WITHOUT going through the famous crosswalk.
Collected Teen and Hubster, and we set out on a trial walk over to school. To the back entrance, it’s five minutes, to the main entrance, eight.
From there we walked over to the High Street, and had lunch at my choice restaurant, which was sadly disappointing. Stopped by two cell phone stores and learned that without working bank cards, we had no chance of signing up for any plan. Took brochures any way. Hubster and Teen headed back to the flat for proof of residency paperwork, whilst I.... (get out your maps)
...walked down the High Street to Prince Albert Road, which runs along the northern edge of Regents Park. Found a gate into the park, and was excited to find a HUGE patch of blackberry bushes growing near a bridge over the Regent’s Park Canal. Went down a path to the canal and walked West until I got to the next stairway up to the street level.
The Canal used to be plied by barges delivering coal to central Londoners. The barges were towed by horses or mules that walked alongside. Walking along the canal is a little like walking along the Seine in Paris, but the water is narrower, shallower, and without the smell of piss that permeates quays. Many people were walking and biking on the now-sunny afternoon.
Walked up Park Road, past Lord’s Cricket Ground, took a left on Wellington Place and a right on Cavendish Avenue, also known as the street on which Sir Paul McCartney lives.
Breezed by his house, which is small and backs onto the grounds of the Wellington Hospital. Lots of security signs, cameras, etc. so I walked briskly by without looking like a tourist gawking. No one else was on the street at all.
Took a left onto Circus Road, then doubled back, crossed Wellington Rd. on Circus, and wound up back at St. John’s wood High St. at the appointed time to meet the Hubster and Teen. Gave up on the phone buying for the day.
Walked back to the flat, this time using the FAMOUS CROSSWALK on Abbey Road. I realized that I am no longer an Abbey Road Zebra Crossing Virgin.
Spent the evening watching Olympic coverage as well as a strange programme about weird British sports like Cheese Rolling, Snail Racing, Tiddley Wink Tournaments, and throwing a beer-soaked towel at a moving circle of people. Hubster cooked us up some spaghetti and corn-on-the-cob, and we perused the mobile phone brochures. Still no closer to making a choice, as there are too many details to comprehend.
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