A Glorious Weekend

At the risk of jinxing things by mentioning it, the weather has been absolutely fantastic: crisp, sunny, clear autumn days. It's been perfect for exploring, and that's just what I did at the weekend. 

I started Saturday with a walk down to the weekly farmers' market in the school yard of St Paul's C of E Primary School at the junction of Elsworthy Road and Primrose Hill Road (a ten minute walk from my gaff), where I loaded up on various veg to use in making some sort of soup and a pain au raisin for my breakfast. The market was started at the beginning of the pandemic to give local people access to good food in an open-air setting, and it's continued since. 

After dumping my purchases back at the flat, I headed north to walk up to Hampstead and ultimately go to the Parliament Hill Farmers' Market at the southeastern corner of Hampstead Heath. I got a bit distracted by three charity shops along the way (no purchases) and a walk down Nassington Road, where Roger first lived when he came to London in 2003. By the time I arrived at the market, it was winding down and there wasn't much left, but I bought some bread and corn fritters for later and an olive breadstick for my lunch. 

That done, I headed north up the eastern side of the Heath, aiming for Kenwood House. The Heath is vast, wild and beautiful. Some parts of it are open and offer fantastic views of London below, while other parts are wooded and mysterious. There's something about it that intensifies perceptions -- on a grey day, the Heath feels very gloomy and dark, while on a sunny day it can't help but put you in a great mood. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, a bit confused by all the paths that crisscross everywhere, but keeping the ponds on my right and heading ever upwards. Eventually, I entered the Ken Wood, a dark and ancient place, and emerged to see Kenwood House glowing in the mid-afternoon light. 

I hadn't been here since Molly and I visited Roger in 2004, also on a bright and sunny day. I took a wander through the house (free!), which is rammed with old master paintings, including a famous self-portrait of Rembrandt. Doors were open and it felt airy, and though a bit crowded and with no one but me wearing a mask, it was possible to steer clear of the other gawpers for the most part. 

Tired from my uphill trudge, I opted to take the bus back down to Belsize Park. I got on the 268, thinking it would take me down to Hampstead, but when we arrived in Golders Green I reckoned I'd gotten on the wrong bus or one going in the wrong direction so I hopped off. And just as the bus was pulling away, I saw that it was indeed for Golders Green and the driver was at that moment changing the sign to read Finchley Road (where I was meant to be headed). I guess it was taking a circuitous route to get there. I need to make a trip to Golders Green at some point (more about that later), but this wasn't the day for it. Fortunately I was opposite the tube station -- and the Northern Line wasn't being struck -- and that got me back to Belsize Park.

I'm getting much, much better about asking questions of people and starting conversations with strangers. As I was approaching my street, I saw a woman about my age, with two carrier bags of what I guessed were groceries. "Excuse me, " I said. "Can I ask you about where you buy your groceries? I'm new here and trying to work it out." That started a nice conversation about the various greengrocers and super markets in walking distance. We both turned into Lambolle Road, and it turns out she's just down the street from me, so we exchanged first names and wishes for seeing each other again. Back in my flat, I cooked up a pot of curried veg soup to last the next four days.

Sunday turned out to be a slower, more relaxing day, with nothing planned but for the boat ride through the Islington Tunnel that I'd booked through the Canal Museum. I'd been wanting to do this for years, but never got around to it or the timing wasn't right as the boat rides are infrequently on offer. The tunnel is just as you'd imagine -- dark, narrow and long. It takes 9 - 10 minutes to motor from one end to the other, but no doubt was a more difficult and time-consuming prospect in the days when canal boatmen needed to "leg it" through the canal. 

To get to the Canal Museum, I walked all the way, wandering down Gloucester Road in Primrose Hill, down the steps to the towpath, and along the path through Camden Town and King's Cross to the museum on Battlebridge Basin. I've walked bits of the towpath many times and always enjoy it, but I realized I'd never done this at the weekend. It was teaming with people! Tons of tourists all through Camden Town. I'm amazed I didn't get pushed in. Not wanting to repeat that experience, I took the tube from King's Cross back to Belsize Park where I settled in for the evening and ate my soup. 

Saturday, October 8th

£2.50 pain au raisin

£3 olive bread stick

£20 other market purchases

20,019 steps

8.22 miles

Sunday, October 9th

£11 canal boat ride

£3 cookie

16,165 steps

6.61 miles

Greetings from Old Blighty

Here I am, back in London. In Belsize Park at the moment, using Spooner's macbook, which is a bit of a challenge. I'm getting a slow start today on account of jet lag and a very tiring arrival day. But I got up at 9 a.m., so my internal clock is half way to being adjusted.

The trip over was uneventful, but LONG -- 15 hours from door to door, using every mode of transport but boat. First the drive to the Massport lot in Framingham, then the Logan Express bus to the airport, then the flight (landed around 7 a.m.), an hour and a half on the tube to Belsize Park and a short walk to Spooner's house. The only good thing about the flight (it sure wasn't the food -- this time I tried the Hindu meal, and it was the same as all the other alternatives that Virgin Atlantic serves up, i.e. rice, overcooked veg and mystery sauce -- which upset my digestive system something wicked) was the inflight entertainment. I watched the film Somers Town, which I'd wanted to see while I was in London but it had just left the cinemas in Swiss Cottage and Finchley Road. It's by the same director who made This is England, and stars the same kid, who is about 15 now. There's really not much of a plot -- it's mostly vingnettes about a kid from the Midlands who's come to London, and his new mate, a Polish immigrant boy whose dad works in construction at the new St Pancras International station. It's quite charming, and I always like when I recognize places in Brit movies.

So, after my nap yesterday, I hopped on the 168 bus down to Camden Town, bought a bagel at Fresh and Wild, and headed for Regent's Park to wander around. It's a vast place -- not as big and wild as Hampstead Heath, but it took me longer than I'd guesstimated to make my way past the zoo to the Victorian drinking fountain, around by the bird sanctuary to the west side where the London Mosque is, over to the band shell which was blown up (killing 7 Royal Green Jackets in the band) by the IRA, around the Inner Circle -- with a wander through the secret garden at St John's Lodge -- and out the York Gate to Marylebone Road.

As I was walking down the Marylebone Road to the tube station at Baker Street, a tourist from South Asia stopped me and asked how to get to Oxford Street. This was a first -- it's always been me reluctantly asking someone for directions. Maybe I finally look like I know where I'm going (that's only semi-true). But I was able to quickly show him on my map where he was and how to get to Baker Street for a bus to Oxford Street. Once I was in the tube station, I had to ask someone on the platform if the train for Plaistow (wherever that is) would stop at Aldgate East.

I met up with my mates Helen and Judy in Whitechapel High Street, the beginning point for a guided walk about Jewish radicalism in the East End from 1881 to 1905. Jet lagged as I was, I think I was able to take in most of it at the time, but I can't remember any of the people we learned about at the moment, except for Samuel Gompers, who we learned attended the Jews' Free School in Bell Lane (building destroyed in the Blitz). We saw the Jewish Soup Kitchen in Brune Street, the former site of Mossy Marks' deli in Wentworth Street (I have to find out if that's the place that James Mason visits in The London Nobody Knows), and ended in Princelet Street. Afterwards, Helen and Judy and I had dinner in a restaurant in the newly renovated (read: soul sucked out of it) Spitalfields Market. (Rosenbeans, you wouldn't recognise the place -- it looks nothing like the funky market we went to four years ago.)

Pedometer reading for yesterday: Over 20,000 steps, 8.5 miles.

Expenses:

• £20 to top up my Oyster card (I'll need to add more later)
• 69p for the bagel
  
• 7 quid for the East End walk (it costs £3.50 if you're non-waged)
  
• £1.05 for postcards
• a tenner for dinner