Christmas in the Capital...

Things have turned distinctly frosty this festive season!


London is usually enveloped in a deluge of dreary drizzle come the yuletide, but 2010 has seen a double-thick duvet of snow draped across the city. The weather has (for once!?!) performed beautifully - the Siberian-sharp air and treacherous pavements feel oh so right when Christmas is just around the corner!


The scene from our roof terrace...





So what if the city grinds to a halt, transport ceases to run and the retail sector is faced with a cataclysmic loss of foot-fall!?! It is supposed to be cold during winter and so I for one am thankful for the freezing conditions...


Not my handiwork I must confess...


On the big day itself, we even managed to go sledging on Parliament Hill – too Disney for words!!! Kept looking at the ground in wonderment, as my Hunter-clad feet crunched through crispy snow. In London! At Christmas-time!!!



Here are some of 2010’s festive flourishes direct from the G-M homestead...







Boat drinks snowflakes!!!

The City of Lost Property...and Parrots!

I am constantly fascinated by the array of personal possessions that are strewn across our streets and parks. Almost impossible to walk anywhere in London without seeing enough lost property to comfortably kit out a jumble sale! One day a much worn/loved belonging, the next day just mere debris... Totally understand how a child might lose a glove – hardly high on a pint-sized person’s list of priorities, but a man’s shoe?!? And just how on earth did it get there; the story behind its desertion, that’s what I want to know!!!


Mawkish token of affection which obviously didn’t have the desired effect on the recipient – consider yourself dumped...literally!


When I initially spotted these ‘Lost’ posters for Charlie the Parrot dotted around The Common, the obvious reaction was one of pity, I mean London hardly has the ideal climate for exotic imports from sunnier spots, plus there’s all those manky pigeons to contend with! But on closer inspection Charlie is clearly a character best avoided - "Do not approach"?!? No tangling with this feathered friend. Whereabouts unknown and maybe with good reason!



Boat drinks Charlie the Parrot and Charlie Bucket!

Last night's fireworks at Clapham Common...

The 'erratic' camerawork barely does them justice, but it was a splendid display (glad to see the old council tax isn’t a complete waste!) which even the dreary November drizzle could in no way dampen.



And I must state for the record that the soundtrack was most definitely their choice and NOT ours!






Boat Drinks Bonfire Night!

Autumn arrives...

The trees are suddenly ablaze with the most outrageous shades of amber, auburn and russet ensuring that London’s streets/parks are awash with eye-watering pockets of colour that look as if the very leaves have been dipped in larva. The last (Technicolor) hurrah before the many layers of winter grey take hold for the interminable months ahead...






Boat Drinks to bonfires!

Get her to The Garden...

Most of my recent posts have been a tad epic, so I thought I’d limit this one to something a little less ‘War & Peace-esque’. Rather than prattle on for eons I simply want to say that The Garden Museum (near to Lambeth Palace) is one my new favourite ‘mini-museums’! Other members of this select tribe to be discussed at a later date…


Kew Gardens it ain’t. But then neither are they charging a kings ransom to get in! Instead, it is a total charmer on a tiny scale - even the actual garden is petite?!? And yet, it had a wonderful little (a theme is emerging here I feel…) expo on that green fingered genius Christopher Lloyd and his amazing home at Great Dixter (want to live there one day!), as well as some charming permanent exhibitions.

Sitting on the banks of the Thames, The Garden Museum also has a rather gothic ambience (if you can believe such a thing!) thanks to its location in a disused church.Some of the tombstones and memorials have a more than a touch of the macabre (skulls and hydras and snakes, oh my!).



Not quite sure who or what the person entombed inside this crypt must have got up to!


So go see and make it soon! Goodness knows what will happen to The Garden Museum’s funding/subsidies now our beloved new government are at the helm with scythe in hand …

Boat Drinks to the buddleia!

Magic beans...

Whilst the mighty/merciless Starbucks and its bloated brethren consume every spare spot on the high-street, small coffee independents are fast becoming the caffeine equivalent of the woolly mammoth. However tucked away on Delancey Street in NW1 is the Camden Coffee Shop – a purveyor of coffee by the bean (rather than the cup!) and a true gem of a find.



The shop itself is rustic to say the least – it’s more reminiscent of some backstreet bolthole from Dickensian days than a coffee emporium. But here you will find outstanding beans from across the globe; hand roasted on the premises and packaged up with panache in a gloriously 70’s style branded paper bag. You even get a little hand scribbled instruction as to what you’ve purchased and how best to keep it. But if you are looking beyond beans, search elsewhere. There are no overpriced espresso cups, frothing wands, flavoured syrups or any of the other fripperies now associated with a classic cup of Joe. The only other service on offer is to have said beans ground!



A gentleman called George Constaninou has been the proud proprietor since 1978, using an 85 year old roaster that envelops Camden High Street in the most amazing aromas on a daily basis. And let’s face it – the cruddy Camden could do with a bit of a fragrant spritz of something…anything!



In fact it was this scent that drew me to the premises in the first place and is certainly some of the best ‘advertising’ that I’ve encountered in some time. There is nothing particularly chic or customer friendly about the layout – it’s dark and dusty, while all the beans are simply kept in plastic tubs, but the man’s an absolute authority and his prices are so keen its almost embarrassing!

Just when London seems to have obliterated all of its originality, you turn a corner and find one small stand against the high street drones & clones so kudos to you The Camden Coffee Shop!

Boat Drinks Mr Constaninou.

Strange times/signs indeed...

Now I’m pretty certain this is not official London Underground signage…



I really have no idea how I even spotted that the standard issue security warning by the tube door had been replaced with a recipe for a margarita (yes, you read right - a recipe for a margarita…). I mean how often do we actually take in our surroundings whilst riding the tube for the billionth time?!? Particularly those of us who are avid readers (a.k.a fellow passenger avoiders). I can only guess that the part-time alcoholic in me was drawn to the word tequila!

I’ve googled this sign/art installation/cultural commentary using a multitude of combinations and phrases but to no avail, so if anyone knows the answer, please enlighten me!

My hunch is that its purpose/message is to highlight the fact that we never look at these signs even though they are concerned with our personal safety. So they can basically be replaced with anything and yet we are all none the wiser, nor do we care.

Or perhaps there is just someone out there that really loves a good margarita…

Boat Drinks but never tequila!

An ode to the crazies of Camden…

To make my much needed lunchtime escape from the dreary office corner I inhabit, I must run the gauntlet of the Camden streets. No mean feat I assure you!!! People bemoan the vast quantities of tourists (primarily German and Italian students with their bad denim and oddly coloured backpacks) who wander aimlessly (always in the complete opposite direction of the infamous/rubbish market where they actually want to be!?!) but they are quite frankly the least of my worries! This particular corner of North London is the haven for lunatics, mentalists and crackpots of every stripe. It is quite literally ‘Care in the Community’– as in they have a thriving community of crazies living it up in NW1!!!

Now before I get accused of being some delicate home-counties type, I went to school in this area and spent most of my formative years wandering these scummy streets in a drunken haze, so I’m not averse to slumming it. However I am daily confronted with a deluge of the demented and the disturbed (not to mention the hordes of crack addicts and winos!).

Looking like the more prominent cast members of ‘28 Days Later’ (i.e. the zombies that actually get close enough to eat you!) I must confess I often fear that I will not make it back to the office with all of my limbs and/or brain intact, but then when you consider how dull my job is, that may be no bad thing…

Boat Drinks Bedlam!

Fuming yet fashionable...

I just experienced the most horrendous customer service in H&M Camden Town and am now really feeling the need to vent my spleen!

I had the audacity to (very!) politely ask the sullen lump on the changing room who I should speak to about an alternative size. A simple question I would of thought, but he greeted it with a sneer and the dead eyes of an overfed mako shark.


His response basically amounted to telling me not to bother as everything was out on the shop floor already. Having worked in retail I totally appreciate that this could quite possibly be true, but that wasn’t actually the question I put to him. Why couldn’t he just answer with “Oh I can help you with that” or “you need to go to the till and they can check for you” or even “we usually have everything out on the shopfloor but I’ll just have a look for you”, rather than the non verbal equivalent of “stop testing me with your foolish queries, can’t you see I am contemplating how to coax my hair into yet more innovative shapes”…

And do they literally not have a stock room?!? I’m sure by the time I visited this PM, they may have sold at least one or two garments since opening their doors that morning. Why oh why work in a job that makes you so utterly jaded and bitter?!? Or feel that same job empowers you to be amazingly rude to complete strangers. Retail can be total hell (I am a seasoned veteran), but I used to welcome the rare occasion when I actually got to converse with a vaguely polite customer. Most members of the public don’t even deign to acknowledge your existence!

This little exchange ended with my thanking him for his wonderful customer service (with a healthy side order of sarcasm) and him (equally tartly) telling me to have a good day (which he actually shouted at my retreating back). Wish I hadn’t then headed to the tills and made a purchase!?! I should have stuck to my principles and given them zero pennies of my hard won cash. But I oh so wanted those jeans…I am truly weak.
Although I did take some comfort from the fact that the guy at the till was totally pleasant to me...

Boat Drinks to the Till Guy!

Elephants invade London...

A somewhat stationary parade of elephants has descended upon the capital.


All in aid of a good cause naturally (do we ever do things just for fun anymore?!?), these slightly lurid pachyderms have been organised by the Elephant Family charity, who believe people will look beyond the photo opportunity and be far more mindful of the plight of elephants in the wild…


Boat Drinks Dumbo!

A glum start...

I came across these ‘Reward’ posters on my journey to work and what a very depressing start to the day it was too. My heart simultaneously sank and was gripped with fear. Did I double lock my door??? Then I remembered that the homestead hadn’t been left vacant and that my husband was there to fight off the thieving hordes - phew! Although naturally I would prefer that he not have to do battle with a band of rampaging robbers unless strictly necessary…



I admire the bravery and the hopeful honesty of their plea. They have lost irreplaceable treasures (even if they are of the technological variety). They won’t mean squat to the person that pillaged them, so why shouldn’t the victim call them out (under the auspicious of offering a reward)!

I know it is highly unlikely, but if by some slim chance the culprits see these signs and would permit themselves a bit of a Frank Capra-esque softening, I just know this city would be a (somewhat) nicer place to live in.

Boat Drinks for the Optimists!

Bile for the Thieves!!

Spring has sprung...

So I’m wondering if these photos could be any more generic?!?

And yet I find them resolutely beautiful and inspiring... Spring has sprung and I’m as giddy as a gambolling lamb (more clichés – please don’t hate me!!!).


The patches of blue overhead seem to be growing daily and I can’t help but be totally charmed by the cherry blossom! I literally stop dead in the street and gaze up into the bountiful branches overhead. I’m sure I must appear to be some total lunatic to the not so nature loving inhabitants of Brixton (snapping young trees in two seems to be some sort or rite of passage in my post-code), but I am transfixed by the blooms…


Speaking/writing of blue skies, my mother-in-law told me a delightful family phrase for predicting whether you are going to have a sustained sunny spell. Not sure of the exact German translation but it basically amounted to “good weather for a good while if you can make a shirt out of the blue”. Charming or what?!?

Boat Drinks Blossom!

Filth...

My current commute read is one of Chuck Palahniuk’s relatively recents charmingly titled ‘Snuff’. It occurred to me this morning, whilst on my subterranean journey to work, that should a fellow tube passenger happen to glance over my shoulder to have a sneaky peek at literally any of the pages I was perusing, they would really think me some kind of sick degenerate. It is just so ruddy rude! I mean literally filthy!!!

Of course this being Palahniuk it is also a bitingly brutal satire too, so I’m going to stick with the premise that I am reading for my cerebral self rather than due to some guttural urges.

I can assure you that I am not a deviant that dabbles in porn to alleviate the boredom of my wander to work (although that might not be a bad idea…).

Boat Drinks Branch Bacardi!

Winter of (Snowy) Contentment

Apologies, but I am going for a brief (backwards) spin in my own personal DeLorean here. These snowy scenes are from earlier this year and are already much cherished memories. London is just about emerging from the coldest winter for over 30 years and I quite simply can’t recall the last time I have seen so much snow envelop my city. A brilliant pure white emulsion of snowflakes smothered every surface of the Big Smoke, obliterating so many of the ugly angles and even uglier idiots.


The quality of the images isn’t great as they were taken on a truly crummy camera-phone, but I would still like to think that they convey the solitary wintery wonderfulness. They were taken during a lunch break/escape when I hightailed it up Delancey Street to Regent’s Park and enjoyed the most stunning scene all on my lonesome, which was utter bliss of course! The snow showed no sign of abatement nor disturbance, the city stilled into frosty elegance. Of course I would love London when there isn’t another soul in sight...


Boat Drinks to true winters!

Not So Super Sunday...

I was greeted with yet more greyness on opening the bedroom curtains this morning. Although after a closer inspection I noticed a few Constable-esque smudges of heart-lifting blue sky. Perhaps not such a bleak Sunday after all...

A quick peek at the roof-garden raised the spirits even further. Can’t help but feel cheered by the sight of my daffodils in all their glorious yellow pomp. Even if all of my other plants expire this season (which is more than likely!), I will still feel this gardening year will have been a success!

A walk across The Common seems a fitting way to start a Sunday (post-porridge of course!). Since childhood I have always loathed this particular day of the week above all others – even Monday mornings!?! I find myself gripped by an all consuming dread of the inexorable approach of yet another suffocating working week and of the last precious seconds of my beloved weekend disappearing at a rate of knots. It’s even more crippling when I feel that I haven’t tried to eek as much enjoyment out of the day as humanly possible; torturing myself if I squander a single moment.

Needless to say I barely sleep on a Sunday night...

Boat Drinks...of the Bloody Mary varietal!

After A Wintery Pause...

Goodness, it has taken me an age to finally get down to posting my first instalment! Classic case of my getting a brief burst of enthusiasm which quickly dwindled once faced with the brutal tedium of the set-up process (see Facebook, Twitter etc. for similar lapses!) . Not the most auspicious or endearing of openings, but since I have (eventually) done all the leg work, I promise to be a dedicated correspondent...

So now that I have finally ‘arrived’, will the opening salvo be a rant or a love-note? The grey skies and endless drizzle seem to quell both urges. On a Saturday such as this, it’s probably best to forget there is a damp city outside and to bunker down with a brace of box-sets (Mad Men still rules my heart) and the occasional G&T.

Boat Drinks one and all!