Sunday: Charity Shop Window Displays and Old Cockney Ways

Well, you know me - I love to wander about aimlessly.  On Friday I was meandering around en route to the hairdresser and happened to look upon the window display in one of the many charity shops situated on the high street and here's what I saw:

Wowzers!  I think I've mentioned before that I have a family history of liking tacky ornaments?  I think it all dates back to my Grandmother and probably my Great-Grandmother before her.  I seem to recall that my Grandparents' place boasted a whole host of these gaudy lovelies, including a pair of ceramic dogs, which were claimed by my Mother's cousin but as she's been out of favour for a great number of years now, the request was ignored, lest that they were worth a great deal on the open market(?)  I think it's safe to say that I'm a third generation cockney - although since the BBC TV programme QI smashed the myth about babies being born in Bromley-Le-Bow, it's apparently in the resonance of St-Mary-Le-Bow which is near the City of London - so who's a proper Cockney then?  As part of my University of London History Degree, we studied the history of London (natch), but I was bored out of my skull for a whole ream of all of this and the ex-accountant who recounted all of the peals of the bells in great detail made me want to jump out of the window, I wouldn't take a great deal of notice of the breadth of my knowledge.

I love the detail on the rabbit portrait - they're splendid aren't they?  The china dog is also adorable too.  My Mother-in-law is also a huge fan of tacky ornaments and they dominate the dresser of her London Council Flat.  Ho hum.

Saturday: A Trip to Kensal Green Cemetery

Yesterday myself and The Duke went to Kensal Green Cemetery in north west London.  It was an interesting trip as both of us didn't really know the area particularly well.  It was a lovely day and we were able to take a few photographs, although we didn't spot anybody well-known's grave, which was a shame.

I thought that the Reform Memorial was very interested and included such people as Arnold Toynbee.

Being located in an urban area, there was a lovely view of the nearby gasometers.

This looks like a shed constructed from marble.  Excellent.  I imagine that they're not readily available in B&Q, well maybe in the Superstores? 

Finally, we travelled via a #18 bus (through such sights as Little Venice and The Westway) and foot to a pub called The King's Head which was near Marylebone.  It had some interesting decor which included a series of Royal Portraits on the walls and indeed in the high flush toilet(!)  Two upper middle-class women, whom I'd guesstimate as being mother and daughter turned up at 2:10pm and duly complained about the closure of the upstairs restaurant, the barmaid's strong eastern European accent and the paucity of portions.  Thank goodness that such people still exist in this day and age.  What a treat for us Britons.  God Bless The Queen!

Monday: Why on earth would you need that in the house?

Now, the title of this blog post is something I ask myself on a fairly regular basis.  Take for example this morning - I'm moseying through Asda wondering what would be useful to buy and wouldn't take up too much space, so I'm wandering through the homewear aisle and spy this item:

It's a Tefal 'One Egg Wonder' frying pan for cooking one solitary egg.  Lakeland have sold them for ages, but Asda seem to have acquired some stock.   I honestly thought of buying it, but stopped myself.  Why on earth would I want one?  I mean, fried eggs aren't even my favourite way of cooking the chicken by product - poached for scrambled being my choice du jour.  I agree that's a great idea, but not for me, so I didn't buy it.  End of.

Why am I so tedious?  Answers on a postcard/carrier pigeon to the following address: 'I need to get out more, please help me...'  It's small wonder that I ventured out on loads of first and indeed, last, dates in the 1990s.

Friday: Greater London - The Story of the Suburbs

Last night I attended a talk by genealogist and author Dr Nick Barratt, who is apparently one of the academics behind the popular BBC series Who Do You Think You Are? which personally speaking, I never watch because I find family tree delving really boring; my mother agrees with this view because one of her distant cousins discovered that a great deal of her ancestry featured in, her view, menial jobs such as nightsoilmen (peeps who emptied cess pits) and later on, lavatory attendants.  Anyway, as per usual, I digress - this event was organised by an organisation called Cityread London: http://www.cityreadlondon.org.uk/ who from their website, seem to do an awful lot of good work in conjunction with their funding body, The Arts Council England, The National Lottery and of course, support from various London Boroughs. 

As for the talk itself, well it would be fair to say that I was one of the youngest people in the audience, which I guess, is to be expected.  There were a few oddbods scattered around, for example, the couple sitting next to me were wearing matching anoraks and clutching old Morrison's bags stuffed with old clothing and I thought 'I bet they smell' and indeed, my instinct was correct - they did, an aroma of slightly off fish to be exact.  The woman, like my mother, had decided that a well-fitting bra is not really a high priority in life and clearly intellectual pursuits take precedence and she then started to ramble on about Ruth Ellis, Dr Crippen and other really random topics.  Her husband then started to read, in minute detail, the specific brewery titles on the blown up old shots of the borough which decorated the walls.  Fair enough - however a couple sat in front of me and the man had the worst case of dandruff I have ever seen and being a public sector worker for nearly twenty years now, I can confess that I've seen a lot of flaky skin in my time.  Sort.  It.  Out. 

Sorry, as usual, I've completely rambled off of the topic.  Right - Dr Nick's talk was really interesting and the top line messages were that London's suburbs formed because old settlements got caught up in urban sprawl.  The old manor houses were demolished, the land sold off to developers and every plot equated to one Parliamentary vote.  The most expensive housing tends to be in the west of London because the east is characterised by industry because of the prevailing west to east wind which travels along The Thames.  There was loads of other detail, but I decided to purchase the book at the end of the talk and asked him to sign it, which he duly did.

Hurrah for culture! 

Monday: my dream house

I have a dream house; I won't say exactly where it's located for reasons of security, but I walk past it on a fairly regular basis.  Why do I like it you may ask?  Well, it's a dream - take a look at the castellated writers' turret in the right hand frontage - it's truly amazing.  Also, it's Victorian and best of all, detached.  I have always adored period properties, although I've never really lived in one because I am rubbish at DIY and cannot really afford the upkeep on such an old building.

My aunt lived in a Victorian detached four bedroomed property in Berkshire and my word, wasn't it nice?  It featured three main bedrooms plus a fourth, somewhat smaller and narrower 'maid's room'.  I thought her shabby chic decor was brilliant too - Italian posters (derived from her time living out there), wooden furniture, books galore and just a really nice feeling about it.  I think that personally, I've managed to recreate the shabby, but certainly not the 'chic'.  One thing is true though - I have far too many books cluttering up my shelves, but as I read in one of my mother's 2008 copies of Saga Magazine(!) the other week, Bernard Levin was exactly the same, as was Keith Waterhouse, so I'm clearly in good company.

Easter Monday: The English Seaside #1 - background and sea swimming

So, it's the coldest Easter for about the last, say, thousand years, well at least since records began.  Great.  However, we still ventured down to the coast though and that's inspired this particular blog post.  So, why do you like the English Seaside then?  Well, I kind of grew up on it if I'm honest, well, since my Mother married my Stepfather (SF) in the 1980s they bought his auntie/friend of the family's holiday bungalow on the Kent Coast, which wasn't at a discounted cost as my Mother is quick to state!  It was part of a 1920s holiday bungalow estate which was constructed from a single brick course and therefore unsuitable for use before say, April and indeed after October.

I seem to recall it being quite quaint and it didn't contain a bathroom - merely a scary high flush toilet and a cold room off of that which housed a washbasin, cupboard and fridge(!)  Later on my SF fitted an electric shower and we used to wash ourselves by poking the nozzle out of an open window and rinse off after swimming in the driveway.  Bizarre.  The loft was also full of birds nests, the welsh dresser had severe woodworm and the mattresses were constructed from horse hair.  Still, it was fun.

 When asked why I like sea swimming I'll say this, I just do.  I'm a fairly hardy soul who also used to enjoy splashing around in lidos too, although there are precious few left in London nowadays.  The sea's never crowded and being three minutes run from the bungalow there's no need to carry out that intricate 'wrap a towel around yourself and wriggle out of your clothes' dance on the beach - it's cossie, sarong, rubber swimming shoes (to counteract the stones!) and you're off.  One of my favourite things is to walk into Herne Bay or Whitstable in the morning and return along the sea wall/coastal route with the sea enticingly glinting at me, blue and magical, just waiting for me to run into its welcoming waves.

So, do you like swimming in the nude then?  Er, why do you ask?  Strange question.  OK, yes, I admit it - it's bloody amazing, you feel so primal, so raw and pretty sensual.  I have done it a few times on this coastline, but it's not really allowed and if it causes offence to somebody, it's illegal.  However, once I made a bloke fall off of his bike.  It made me laugh anyway.  I have since sought out suitable locations to bathe au naturel, but they are a bit few and far between - such as the famous Brighton Nudist Beach at Blackrock.  The ponds in Hampstead Heath are also a good place to go, but I read in the Daily Wail last year that they're now full of red crayfish which are proving a bit nippy for those in the nuddy.  I think my best bet at the moment may be to plump for the sessions which take place in the University of London (my alma mater!) pool in Malet Street every Sunday.  Happy days!