New Year’s wander

A Happy New year to you all. It is 2nd January 2016 and we have entered a new year for the first time on this blog. In fact it will be coming up for a year of writing soon. I’m not sure how many people read this. We could probably all meet up for a party in one of the Barbican lifts. But that was never the point and the writing is for me more than anyone else.

The train ride up here was exciting. I came on the overground from Enfield again. A family get on an surround my seat. The young boy seems apprehensive. As we go he says “I thought Tube Trains went faster than this.” I don’t expect thy do. And anyway, our ex British Rail stock never enters a tube. We go further.

“Dad, why is White Hart Lane not near White Hart Lane” says the boy

“It is” says his Dad.”The Lane runs just there”

“Well why is the Stadium not near White Hart Lane and it’s called White Hart Lane?” He responds.

“It is” Says his Dad. “It’s just over there”

There is a pause.

“So why do loads of people come out of Seven Sisters station on Football day. It’s two stops away”

The Dad doesn’t say anything. The rest of the family don’t seem interested.

At Seven Sisters the train empties but only after the boys asks,

“Why does everyone get off at Seven Sisers, Dad?”

I wanted to shout that I was staying on but I resisted. Their place was taken by an older Asian guy swigging from a can of larger and his young companion who was rather glamorously dressed. I drifted in and out of the conversation, thinking it lucky that I could actually understand their conversation. Eaves dropping is getting a little difficult I Enfield.

“Yeah, My mum’s still having em’. She’s got eleven already. She likes big families.”

The fumes from his larger are reminding me of a pub carpet. He wants to go to the bank. She doesn’t like the bank since it put in computers. “The F****** queue goes right out the door”

They get off and the train is quiet. I notice someone as erected a dining ambience on the roof of one of the buildings along the track before Liverpool Street. Well a tarpaulins at least. Reminds me of Stratford bus station.

I’m in the Library now. It’s quiet. Like a Library should be. I think it is the interval of a concert in the Barbican Hall. The audience is elderly and I like to think that they have a discount on their tickets.

I’ve chosen a book on “Mrs Shufflewick” which seems quite random. Another name I seem to know, but I’m not sure why.

As I leave the Barbican it is starting to rain. I walk past the Greengrocers and a sign says it is closed for a few weeks. I like to think the owner is on holiday somewhere warm in the sun. At the end of the road I turn right in to Old Street. This is unchartered territory. I make a quick glance either side of the road as I walk, catching sight of a few things but there are more questions than answers. Over the Old Street roundabout until I eventually get to Shorditch Overground Station. Quite a walk. I make a resolution to come this way and explore more this year.

 

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