In the city

From 7am onwards there is enough noise to waken the dead in the cemetery across the canal: pile-drivers and bulldozers, trains and police sirens, joggers, cyclist, dog walkers and children on their way to school. I wake up and grumble and mumble about all the noise and then come to and think ‘stupid woman, you’re in the middle of a city what do you expect’

Interesting progress through the environs of West London, hope to moor in Little Venice.  No chance. Turn into the Paddington Basin, sail to the end no gaps, turn around and come back again and then spot a place on one of the pontoons but a wide beam is moored alongside and I’m not sure if I will fit.  A man in a yellow jacket shakes his head doubtfully as I turn again, both Rea and I breathe in and we squeeze in with an inch to spare on either side.  The man in the yellow jacket puts two thumbs up.

In Paddington Basin

 After my sister arrives we set out for a walk along Little Venice and into Maida Vale.  I used to live around here, in Warrington Crescent but since I moved away they must have shuffled the streets around a bit and I can’t find Warrington Crescent although I do find The Warwick Castle one of the local pubs so I know it’s around here somewhere.  Eventually find it and stand to look at the flat I used to live in, or approximately the flat I lived in because I can’t remember the number and the houses in a Georgian Crescent all look alike.  Share a few memories of living there, the Italian artist next door who made a huge statue that was too big to go out the door for the exhibition at the ICA and the fire brigade came to lift it out over the balcony (was it an emergency, did he pay them?).  There was scaffolding outside for months very useful for when I forgot my key (and the artist we shared the balcony with was out) that was removed early one Sunday morning and I went out and shouted at them for making so much noise on a Sunday.  The next day when the painters turned up they were surprised to see their scaffolding had been nicked.

 

I used to live here, or maybe next door

When my sister got bored of listening to the reminisces we went to The Warrington Hotel, a pub that was just as I remembered it (and in the right place).  It is a most beautiful Victorian pub with Art Nouveau friezes, opulent lamps and panelling.  It is worth a visit even if it means you have to have a drink as an excuse for being there.