The Hindu religion seems quite into its animalistic deities and idols, so I am sure that Ganesh and all his colleagues are quite happy that this superbly kitsch temple facade in Walthamstow has clearly become home to a number of pigeons.
I like the Barbican estate in the City of London, particularly on a sunny and pleasant day. If someone were to offer me the chance to live anywhere in London (it’ll never happen) I would choose here, it just seems like a fairly peaceful and attractive spot despite, or perhaps because of, all the brutalism. It’s interesting to look at a map of modern London and trace the outline of the old medieval, walled city: many of the place names make it clear what used to be there — Moorgate, Smithfield, Barbican.
A first-ever visit to Kew, and yes, it counted as work — as the nation’s premier botanical gardens this was a crucial node in the networks of information, learning and capital which formed the basis of the British Empire from the 18th century on, and to which St Helena and Ascension Island were intimately linked. Ahead, one of the entrances to the Temperate House, which at one point was the largest glasshouse in the world, and is still the largest surviving Victorian one.
I am now staying in London for a week, and for all of it I am going to look out of my hotel window and see these balconies. I wonder whether the couch you see here will be used much in January, but I guess it’s something that makes one’s elevated rabbit hutch a somewhat more agreeable place to live.
The Post Office Tower, as seen from room 337 of the Farringdon Travelodge — this morning, but also the last three mornings. It definitely looks like a spark plug, though — or possibly, some bizarre toy (let’s not go there, though).
There are, always, worse things to do on a Sunday morning — as long as it isn’t raining, and the showers just about held off until the match finished. Not that the players of either Mala Vida (which I’m sure means ‘Bad Life’ so perhaps it’s irony) or Parthenope FCs responded to my attention by being able to score a goal between them. But hey, the backdrop was pretty good.
A day of work, even though it was a Saturday. Then, an attempt to find a quiet corner somewhere for a post-work drink — not necessarily easy on a Saturday night in Soho. But this pub on Charing Cross Road just about managed it, and afforded many people-watching opportunities through the sash windows. I pick this one because it has the feeling of being a still from a movie, and Soho just has that feeling of being a movie kind of place.
Went to Leyton Orient FC, of League One, today simply because I had never been there — it’s another one of those list-making things — a lunchtime kick-off making it straightforward at both ends of the day. Their two dragon mascots were quite endearing and going on the faces of the crowd behind, at least a couple of whom are clearly old enough to make their own judgments here, the locals think so too. They lost the game, though: 2-3 to Stevenage.
A full week of shots in London, then — 7 in a row. But that was the last, for three weeks anyway. At this rate, the capital will overtake the Lake District sooner rather than later and become the third most-depicted place on here, after Hebden and Manchester. I like the countryside, yes, but I must admit to quite liking London, too.
A city the size of London is going to need a lot of water. And unlike, say, Manchester, there are no high hills particularly nearby, in which one can build reservoirs and let gravity do quite a bit of the work of moving that water to where it is needed (water comes all the way to Manchester from the Lake District a hundred miles away through gravity alone). Therefore, some serious pumping is required. What used to be the Kew Bridge pumping station, and is now the London Water and Steam Museum, contains the biggest beam engine ever built, a gargantuan see-saw with a steam engine at one end and the pump at the other. That colossal object was impossible to photograph adequately, but these instruments will do.
And that reader was me, today. Third and, for now, last day working at the National Archives. What’s in the files and boxes? Well, let me get on with writing the book, and some of it, you will find out.
Being 42 