Everything was better in the old days...(he says, only half-joking), even police cars. Look at this little beauty, parked outside a dealership in Golders Green. It's so...modest...you can't imagine it being used to chase villains but instead, simply pulled over to the roadside so that the copper could get out and ask old Hamish, who had been seen riding unsteadily, if he was OK. It turns out he's just had a few drinks at the The Clachaig Inn.
We had just disembarked from a hail and ride bus coming back from Hampstead Garden Suburb. Yes, when in the Suburb, you can actually hail the bus! Unbelievable, right? In London anyway. I'd never seen such a thing. What a novelty. Being knackered and old, we were damned glad of that service, having already wound our way up the hill from Golders Green to the Suburb. Thought we have a look, see what it's about. The highlight was Sir Edwin Lutyens' Central Square, flanked either side by St Jude's (below) and the Free Church (next down), both designed by Lutyens.
There's nothing fancy about the Central Square, but the simplicity and arrangement of the trees make it a great breathing space, elevated as it is on a hill from which little of the city below can be seen, except from certain vantage points; it feels like another world, impervious to the noise and traffic below.
Now I'd like to demonstrate to you how adventurous I can be. My life is full of such exploits, I assure you. I haven't rested on my laurels since retiring from Work, oh no.
Our return journey from Golders Green involves a bus change at Archway. You couldn't get a much greater contrast than Archway and Hampstead Garden Suburb. One is posh, quiet and civilised, the other is...Archway. Anyway, check the bus stop read-out - 11mins til the bus is due. But these buses and the predicted times are notoriously unreliable. Would it really be eleven minutes? There's a charity shop right there. OK, LJ volunteered to wait outside and watch for the bus whilst I browsed the books. It was a risk. London buses have a habit of crawling when you're in a hurry and speeding up stealthily catching you off guard whilst you snooze at a bus stop wondering what went wrong in your life and why you weren't driving like other people. I went in. Not many books. Listen out for LJ (she'd make herself heard anyway because she likes to shout my name across a crowded charity shop if she's found a jumper that might fit me (in the Ladies section, because all men's jumpers are designed for giants and despite having grown a belly with the aid of mince pies over Xmas I'm not that big)). I was pushing it. I lingered, as if teasing fate, daring the bus company to try and outwit me. Then I left the shop and the bus came straight away, a little early. Phew. Now don't tell me I lead a dull life.
In order to get out of the flat early enough to capitalise on the sunny morning I had to forgo my morning typing session. No problem. Yes, I type regularly, every morning unless we're going out of town for the day. It's good to have a break, even from making visual poetry. Frontiers was made the day before.
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| Frontiers, RTomens, 2026 |
That's all for now. Ta-ta.
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