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04 March 2007 @ 10:08 pm
They did pave paradise.  
Walked over Tower Bridge Friday morn to Bermondsey Market. It huddles now in a much smaller space as new construction goes up over it, when finished the market will huddle under the new building which is to be built on the site. It will be on posts, leaving a sort of square within and underneath it. Not much to delight in there. But the good old handmade stuff still surfaces in the market.

Then we wandered back to the river, poked around Shad Thames (east of the bridge) and crossed back over to get coffee at Pauls by the Tower. Glorious blue sky, bright sun, high fishscales, cumulus rolling fast underneath, me with my sunglasses on. I sat there thinking of how the clouds made me think of the weather rolling over mesas in the Southwest, thinking of how Mark suggested another walk soon (after30+ years!) "maybe around Moab" and delightful future possibilities arose. And spun and rolled in my head. A pleasant reverie.

Saturday we went to look at a flat in Holland Park. Left the tube at Notting Hill Gate and walked east past the commercial district there, for a few blocks. Abruptly the shops ended and we were in Holland Park, rows of lovely white houses, with occassional pleasant shops reminiscent of Marylebone. A nice neighborhood, even though the flat we saw was a disappointment. On the way back stopped into the Park, heard woodpeckers, then saw them. Lots of birdsong, dense layers of it which I've missed here in London, save the ravens' rude boorish cries. Thoughts of dear home swelled within me. Ah.

Today to Finchley Road to actually meet Sheila, who M3inkie has corresponded with before about rentals and enjoyed enough to want to get to know. Tea and a chat at the Hungarian patisserie, then a pleasant, leisurely walk in the rain up the hill, through Hampstead and across Spaniard's Road to Kenwood House where we looked at the paintings and, surprise, came upon a Vermeer, such fun and so unexpected. Then wandered, usually lost, south and east through the wet muck paths across Hampstead Heath, on to the tube at Swiss Cottage, heading for dinner at Hardy's, but our hopes were dashed. The joint was dark. So on to a fine Italian dinner on the High Street, where we were entranced by the 17 month old charmer next to us. Shades of our first visit here together in 1988. Reveries. Ah.

Dear friends, thinking of you all.
 
 
Current Mood: content, but not settled