It’s remarkable how difficult it can be to get things done
without internet. At least, that’s my pitiful excuse for my lack of blogging and writing,
recently, anyway.
Punters punting in Cambridge |
Along with my angst over how crap services are here (bank
services, mobile services, trying to set up internet with EE services, even the
service at a cafe in the West End which took 45 minutes to deliver us the most
basic of brunches and, when we went to leave, informed us there were no card
payments on Sundays and we should have known).
Last night M and I went to hear Bill Bryson talk at the
Guardian’s book club event. It was well worth going. For those of you who have
yet to encounter Bill Bryson’s work, go and do so immediately. I still have a
lot to catch up on.
Autumn in Hampstead Heath |
Bryson is originally from America but fell in love with
England, and has been living here for decades (with a brief return to America
to give his children the great experience of two countries). He was talking
mostly about his 1995 book Notes from a
Small Island, a book about his travels around Britain, with references to
his new book Little Dribbling which
revisits the same topic.
Bryson said that when you move somewhere, no matter whether
you have lived there for a long time, you will always be a bit of a foreigner and
there will always be things that just don’t make sense, that “befuddle” you – why, in the teeth of hell, do they do it
that way? But there are always good things, always the wonderful and different
things.
It was nice, on that particular day, to be reminded of such
things.
Last week, S and I took a trip to China Town and had dinner
in the marvellous Cafe TPT (I had eggplant, mmmm, and for dessert some kind of sago
mango deliciousness) then wandered around the streets, finding wonderful places
we will return to to buy mocha and pandam buns stuffed with red bean paste and
cakes and these crazy bun things with pork shavings on the end and these tiny,
beautifully formed fish-shaped cream pastries. It was night, so the woman in
the shop was cleaning out the irons they cook them in, but there were some
samples set on a small dish in the window – about the size of a thumb, perhaps,
with details pressed into the pastry.
China Town |
And I was so excited, to be walking around there at night,
with a hum and bustle underneath the rows and rows of red lanterns strung up,
banners set for the Chinese president’s upcoming visit, people everywhere. I
forget, sometimes, how much I love being outside at night. It has a different
feeling to the day, a kind of opening up of a new world. I believe the people
change, and the buildings and streets pick up a new air, and in this part of
London it is wonderful.
And what else? Dinner with my friend near Liverpool Street
Station, a quick catch up and meal while she was in transit between Spain and
Oklahoma. Seeing the neighbourhood fox at last (he told me his name is Sigil).
The light in the mornings coming through our window, and the light over the bridge walking home from work in the evenings. (Walking home from work, in London? How lucky am I!) Train travel – I love
travelling by trains – with scenery and weather travelling past, and that close feeling of being in yourself.
The bustling weekend Columbia Road flower market, where the street is lined either side with flowers and potted plants all the way down, and I got the fern for our bedroom. An unexpected 'Natural Park' near Kings Cross with a pond and a red robin and bees. A walk in Hampstead Heath with a friend, and a plastic heeled shoe filled with rainwater and leaves.
Camley Street Natural Park beehives |
A trip to Cambridge on the weekend – my first visit – with all
the canals and a view of punters from afar, so it looked as though they were
pushing themselves through the land with giant poles, with the autumn leaves
scattering everywhere. That was the first thing I noticed getting off the train
– the scent of autumn leaves, the sound of them scudding on the pavement in a
slight breeze.
And this weekend, I am going to attempt to get up North to
visit my friend I met on the Isle of Skye last time – who gave me a ride back
from Elgol and the wonderful Loch Coruisk to my grotty hostel in Broadford. I
have a plan to get me there cheaply but will not find out whether it will work
until I attempt to implement it on Friday evening. I will let you know, but
fingers crossed for Yorkshire and a night sky where I can see a whole lot of
stars.
More pics on my Instagram |
A replica painting in the Plimco tube station |
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