Thanks to my Brissie Carol, we set off yesterday in search of some little style nooks hitherto unexplored. Well that should come as no surprise cos I am not stylish, but I have read the book from cover to cover and have turned down page corners and am keen to have a little look see.
Wouldn't you think that as I lived here for 7 years I would A. possibly have seen these places before, and B. be capable of driving around the old town to find 'em. But the truth is a big, fat as my arse, NO to both. I hadn't visited and I don't reckon I can drive here anymore.
It is not the weight of the traffic or even the need to reverse park. Neither of these things worry me. It's the fact that since I last drove here the streets must have been on Jenny Craig, cos they are now so skinny that I just do not believe there is enough space for driving. Yes there is enough space for cars to park either side of the roads, but then there is no room for traffic to go through, and there certainly is not enough room for a big fuck off double decker bus to trundle along. I just cannot work out how my cute little sporty number ever fitted. I hate to think it, but it seems my eyes now see things as wider than they used to, perhaps as an adjustment to looking at my arse?
Steve on the other hand has just returned like a duck to water. He was happy to have a driving adventure, whereas I would have gone, all day every day, by tube and bus. He picked himself up an A to Z - (Referdex or Greggories - spell check here has been useless so I am guessing they really are made up Aussie words) and I had the maps up on my phone and off we went.
Well I spent quite a lot of time pretending I was watching some horror movie, ie sitting with my eyes closed or hiding behind my hands.
We missed the turns to the little backwaters where we were heading, but we did find a number of really lovely spots and I have now started a list in the front of my book of places I want to go back to, but next time I reckon I will go by tube.
The roses in Regents Park are worth the risk of a bee sting. Go ahead, stick your face right into 'em. Ahhh!
We pulled up at Regents Park. There was ooodles of cheap parking. We trooped in and grabbed a sort of picnic style lunch and enjoyed the sunshine. I hadn't been to this park before, and bloody fabulous it is. The whole place wafted with the scent of old fashioned roses, like the ones we used to steal and destroy on the walk to school when I was a kid. It's oldie worldie, except that it's new today, cos mostly roses don't smell of anything at all anymore - cue whinging grumpy old woman.
In the Queen Mary gardens there are deck chairs set up, yep I said deck chairs! They are set in pairs in the sunshine and there eventually is a little fella who comes along and points out that there is a charge for sitting on them. It was pretty and twee and all very English.
Finally I found where the London Zoo is and yep I have written that in the front of my book, along with the Kensal Green Cemetery which is supposed to be the resting place of some flash folk. It might be a bit odd, but I do like a wander through the head stones - wandering is however where my strangeness ends.
We got gridlocked amid 4 wheel drive monsters at school pick up time and this just confirmed my thoughts that it would never be wise to come between a mother and her cubs. It was fucking frantic.
So I haven't made it to the places of interest in The Book, but we came very close, close enough to know that we want to go back another time via public transport, so there will be no worries about parking, driving, or nutso school mothers.
Ta Carol for the book, it's definitely taking me out of my comfort zone.
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