A Rose, a Fuchsia and a Seed Cake

It’s the middle of June but you would be forgiven for thinking it is march. Yesterday’s warmth has given way to a chilly wind. I’m greeted as I leave the house by a white rose which has just come in to bloom. Three dead sticks arrived in April as a free gift from the news paper. It’s amazing to see how they have sprung to life. The were labelled as Red Rose, Pink Rose and White rose. Very descriptive. The blooms look as though they are true to their work.

imageAs I cross across the high walk, I notice some planters are being tended by an old man who appears to have vegetables and herbs as well as flowers. I’m guessing he lives locally and some of the planters have been given over, like mini allotments to the residents. The main planters look amazing and have a wild garden look about them There are not to many people in the foyer at The Barbican Centre today but those that are seem to be making lots of noise. Have I stumbled into a mother and toddlers club? I’m having a quick cup of tea. I have a fat Tonsil and it needs regular lubricating. The two girls serving behind the counter are discussing religion. One doesn’t seem to be understanding the other.

“What, they are a religion but they don’t do it?”

“Yeah, they just fake it”

Girls, that’s life.

I’m in the London Collection and I get a book all about the Cockney and their Dialect. I’m going to look a few things up and see if the saying “How’s your belly off for spots” can be attributed to my roots, or odd parents. I’m trying to find a book about Clerkenwell but the copy was not where it should be on the shelf. I feel I need to research the area for you readers.

The July magazine produced by the Library is out and I pick up my copy. Not many Libraries produce a monthly magazine like this. I’m checked out in person.  The Display at the Library entrance is of close-ups of flowers and I stop to browse before making my way to the lift. Talking of the Lifts, anyone who visits will know there are four lifts, two on one side two on the other. Which ever side you wait at, the lift comes to the other… Guaranteed.

imageI pass the laundrette and there is an older couple watching their washing. They don’t speak. There is a very informative poster on washing labels that I notice and make a note to learn  up. I get to the Barbican fruiterers and decide today is the day. I’m going in. I pick up this rather fine fuchsia for £1.80. If that’s not a bargain I don’t know what is. The owner, John, is serving and old lady with a push along trolley. That seems to have come out wrong. The Old Lady has the trolley, not John! He sorts her old three bananas of varying shades so they’ll be ripe at different times. They both know each other by name. Service. You don’t get that at your Tesco Local. He breaks off from serving her, to collect my £1.80 and another customer holds my fuchsia while I look for the money. I could do with a trolley like the old lady’s. For the first time I see students going in to the Italia Conti building. In fact there are several Lycra clad girls hanging out of a window. It’s like Fame with out the headbands.

 

I’m walking along the other side of the Clerkenwell Road and you would think I was somewhere completely different. Its funny how you miss imagethings because you are so close up. I don’t know why I am surprised but I find the Chapel of St Johns which is obviously where the road near by gets its name. At least if my Fat Tonsil flares up anymore, I’ll have the first aiders on hand. There’s a secret garden that will need further exploring. The Italian Church of St Peters reminds me that the area of Clerkenwell was very Italian and may explain the number of independent coffee shops. The church is also a very good example of something that showed up better from over the road. There is a rather ornate memorial in the porch and I can see the writing today as I’m close up. But its in Italian so I’m none the wiser.

In Holborn I was given a free Rustlers Hot Panini in a long life wrapper. As I take it, I throw it back at the girl who catches it like a rugby ball. We laugh and she gives it back. I always like something for free. I’m loading up. I’m hoping I don’t lose too many buds of this fuchsia. As If to call me a liar, it is now warming up with the sun making an appearance. I’d like to take this cardigan off but I’ve no hands. I pass the London County Council School of Art building and wonder what it is used for today. More research to do.

As I walk along Southampton Row, I see another Blue Plaque that proclaims, John Barbarolli lived here. Like my Auntie Hilda, he seems to have moved house many times but not gone far. There are several round near the Brunswick centre. We’re near Academia again and I pass a Chinese student who is carrying a note pad and papers tied up with string like a parcel with a bow on top. I’m not sure what weather he is expecting but they wont blow away in a gale. I smile, but at least he’ll know where they are. Unlike me when I need to find any important piece of paper.

I know, you are all wondering about the seed cake. I do pop in for a pot of tea, but no seed cake. I had a raspberry fondant fancy with a chocolate flake. I passed the shop where three weeks ago I bought a packet of Caraway seeds ready to make the seed cake. Time has passed and I still haven’t got around to it. This weekend is a must.

And talking of time, I’ve noticed it’s twenty five to four and like a modern-day Cinderella, I make a dash to Goodge street Station to tap in before the stroke of four. It’s a pound dearer to travel in the rush hour and that would buy another fuchsia……. almost.

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