A new year and a wardrobe.

I’ve wrestled with a wardrobe this morning before leaving the house. Its a long story. And the wardrop isn’t mine. But I’m worn out before we start. Its taken me ages to get up here since my last visit. Fridays get booked up and last Saturday, I got to the station ready for a quick saunter up to town, only to find I’d left me wallet at home. No card to tap in to the underground. But I’m here. Sitting at the table. Thinking what to write.

The journey up here is no different to normal really. Someone had dropped an Oyster card. The driver announced it over the tannoy. Thats as good as it get in Enfield Town. We’ve been known to get excited when the traffic lights change.

A school gets on and surrounds me. All are wearing High Viz jackets. On the back of one it says Infant school and yet the children are clearly upper juniors. They are well beahaved and discuss the primary and secondary colours in depth. A member of staff sits with them. She has “Staff” written on the back of her High Viz jacket. Just so we know.

Its a cold crisp morning but the sun is out. Bright. I’m well wrapped up.

When I arrive at the Library, everyone is getting about their business. Not sure what I was expecting. Some bunting saying “Welcome Paul, we havent seen you for a while” I check in on the self service as there is someone being served. Not sure I like that. Its good to talk. But I need the loo and thought we’d speed it up.

I’ve chosen a book. Subterranean City. It fascinates me to discover things about London that are out of the ordinary. There are rumours about a secret branch of the underground that pops into Buckingham Palace in case Her Majesty needs a quick get away.

Theres a man wil a long pole with a red cup on the end, walking between the shelves. I’m curious. Im pretending to look at the crime novels while I wait for him to go in to cation. Well, you’d want me to wouldn’t you?

He pokes it skywards. Towards a smoke sensor. What a job. Smoke sponsor tester. A modern day lamp lighter, or Knocker Up-er. You wouldn’t get this excitement in Enfield,

Im walking towards Clerkenwell. No one looks very energetic in the gym. No one’s doing a bag wash  The Greengrocer is selling Celeriac. Any everyone outside Italia Conti looks super slim.

I decide to wait for the 55. I’m on a mission to collect an order from Waterstones at Picadilly and it as along way. When the bus eventually comes, I sit facing backwards for a change. You cans ee where Ive been. I get to thinking that this time last year i thought I would explore the other way from the Barbican rather than follow the same path. It didn’t quite work like that.

I’m on the bus riding backwards next to a man with a nasty Cough. I want to get off.

A little attempt at some poetry there. Don’t say there’s no variety

After a long walk, I ask for some soup in The Waterstones Cafe. I’ve held in the urge to whistle in the Burlington Arcade and now need some sustenance. Soups off. So it’s an Apricot Danish. It’s gargantuan and well worth the money.

I like the Picadilly Waterstones. The building has its own personality and its greater than the company trading in it. I collect an order that I could easily have picked up in the Enfield branch and then make for home.

But first a diversion to Fopps. This record and DVD store is a favourite and always good for a bargain. I buy an album on vinyl for Graham and show it off on the way home. It’s become trendy. People look and nod approvingly. Im in.

 

 

 

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