Tag Archives: walking

Glorious Trees in Winter: Kelburn Castle

It is so hard to photograph trees, but the burn of Kelburn Castle was of surpassing loveliness and contrasts on this mid-February day. Wind through  branches filled the world, an icy roaring mostly above our heads — a few branches came down around us as we were walking. One huge crack and a falling of one just in front of us provided some photographic comedy gold (Much as did my wearing three shirts, jumper, hoodie and coat), but also a slight thrill of danger.

But the woods, oh the woods. Empty of people, full of forest soundings. They sang impossibly beautiful around us in traceries of twigs framed by moss covered trunks. The red of fallen leaves still glowing.

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

My little brother, who at over six feet isn’t actually all that little but seemed hidden and small in this place…

Kelburn

Trees surrounding the falling of water…

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

This incredible mossy bark…

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

The wooly character of branches

Kelburn

The microcosms that live here

Kelburn

And then to slowly emerge from the trees to see the view of the Firth of Clyde and its islands and snow-capped mountains in the distance:

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

And its unexpected additions

Kelburn

From there we returned back to the castle, to a most wonderful walled garden and trees tamed — yet not entirely.

Single trees, enormous and ancient yews, some of them planted over a thousand years ago and framing more formal gardens alongside Kelburn castle. Three of Scotland’s most historic trees are here.

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

Kelburn

The first spring flowers I have seen this year, and a few other budding branches:

Kelburn

This whole place is primarily geared towards kids, families, campers — there were wonderful things for kids all around, though I was glad that the weather meant we had the place to ourselves and I imagine it is heaving in the spring and summer. I quite love what these Brazilian artists did to the castle when let loose on it:

Kelburn

Kelburn

But the last bit of the walk brought an unexpected reminder of some of the underlying social relations that have clouded this place. Not least that it is privately owned, but also in how it connected to power and Empire. All of this beauty was once owned by the Earl of Glasgow, who also served as governor of New Zealand — in an old not-very-waterproof shed sits a small museum with some of his collection. The faces of those who had their own wilds stolen from them stared back at us.

Kelburn

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Kelburn Castle: 2017’s first spring flowers

Tristram and I drove down to Kelburn Castle, and it was baltic, with rain almost sleet as we left but we headed from Hamilton towards Largs and occasionally the clouds would break to reveal patches of blue sky. Some sunshine, though lighting the world up far from us. The wind was freezing, even among the trees. Ice lined the puddles of water, though water flowed and rivuleted everywhere down the burn as we climbed it.

Kelburn

It was astounding to see these amazing snowdrops:

Kelburn

Thousands of them. Like these, adorning the banks, among these enormous, ancient trees.

Kelburn

As we walked back to the car park, we passed this last, lone utterly mad daffodil.

Kelburn

In the walled garden there were some beautiful rhododendrons blooming as well — I love walled gardens, what wonderful places they are in this climate! Yet I don’t feel I can count them really.

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Ashton-under-Lyne: Portland Basin Museum’s brilliant sign collection (and other things)

Portland Basin Museum is full of quite awesome things, Social History on one floor of the beautiful large warehouse, and Industrial History beneath. A series of rooms shows what life was once like, from the inside of worker’s cottages to shops and chippies and pubs…I love these sorts of things, from the collections of old artifacts to the figures placed there in an attempt to bring scenes to life. I’m not sure that it works, we found the recorded humming of the seamstress and  chip shop worker rather terrifying. And yet…

 Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

Very cool. My favourite things though, the signs of yesteryear. This on the subject of women and drinking is my very favourite:

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

But they are all good…

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

The modern signs are pretty enjoyable as well:

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

And there is more awesomeness, like the bell rung to summon the Chartists of Hyde to meetings:

Portland Basin Museum, Ashton-under-Lyne

We came here to do some shopping, but I’m glad we wandered a bit, stared down streets with the moors rising up beyond them:

Ashton-under-Lyne

Wandered past the canals:

Ashton-under-Lyne

The shop is also full of brilliant local history publications…

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Speck on Walkable Cities — But Who Will Walk Them?

13538794Jeff Speck opens Walkable Cities with this:

This is not the next great book on American cities. That book is not needed… We’ve known for three decades how to make livable cities — after forgetting for four — yet we’ve somehow not been able to pull it off. (3)

He’s talking about Jane Jacobs there, The Death and Life of American Cities. This made me want to like this book, as did the following two sentences.

What works in the best cities is walkability.

Walkability is both an end and a means, as well as a measure. (4)

But really, there are three main points here: (1) walkability is good, primarily in the ways that it supports the real goal of planners — (2) to increase property values, while also (3) improving quality of life for those who are moving back to the city or currently live in the suburbs and are driving too much, i.e. white middle-class people.

There are two broad currents in planning, the first is planning for justice and equity, the second is planning for property values and quality of life for those who can afford it. This is in the second strand, which I rather hate with every fiber of my being

This is the kind of book that in its erasure of issues of equality and lack of any acknowledgment of the results of past patterns of unjust development, disinvestment, exploitation and discrimination becomes a manual for extending the privileges of one (white, middle-to-upper-class) group while erasing everyone else  (the poor and people of colour) from the city neighbourhoods they currently inhabit.

I walk cities, walkability is the most important city characteristic to me. Yet to make anything in this book useful to those who care about making neighbourhoods better for those who currently live there, to ensure that planning interventions do not increase displacement and segregation, an awful lot of the framing needs to be discarded. Every time Speck talks about the ways in which interventions to make a city more walkable improve property values, it is clear that issues of gentrification and displacement must be grappled with for those who do care about equity.

When it keeps to analysis of the actual physical streetscapes and built environment, much of this is useful:

Outdated zoning and building codes, often imported from the suburbs, have matched the uninviting streetscapes with equally antisocial private buildings, completing a public realm that is unsafe, uncomfortable, and just plain boring. (4)

Or looking at the four main conditions of walkability:

Each of these qualities is essential and none alone is sufficient. Useful means that most aspects of daily life are located close at hand and organized in a way that walking serves them well. Safe means that the street has been designed to give pedestrians a fighting chance against being hit by automobiles; they must not only be safe but feel safe… Comfortable means that buildings and landscape shape urban street into “outdoor living rooms,” in contrast to wide-open spaces… Interesting means that sidewalks are lined by unique buildings with friendly faces and that signs of humanity abound. (11)

It is in parsing out what these mean that the trouble lies — especially around ideas of safety and comfort as they are shaped by historic patterns of racism, sexism and discrimination. You won’t find any of those complexities here.

But guess what you will find? For Speck, walkability is marketable. He quotes Joe Cortwright’s ‘Walking the Walk: How Walkability Raises Home Values in U.S. Cities’, which I suppose would be useful to look at. Likewise William Frey, whom he quotes:

A new image of urban America is in the making. What used to be white flight to the suburbs is turning into ‘bright flight’ to cities that have become magnets for aspiring young adults who see access to knowledge-based jobs, public transportation and a new city ambiance as an attraction. (35)

Bright fucking Flight. This is the planning whose entire goal is to attract people back to the cities from the suburbs without a thought to issues of community participation, equity, social justice, eradicating poverty, improving people’s lives through improving the city they live in or even a thought to all the talent languishing in the city deprived of quality education and jobs and hope — all the things that brought me to planning in the first place. This is the planning that fills me with nausea. I am ignoring it to focus on what is useful.

As an outline, the steps to a walkable city are useful and it is definitely a good list — the white devil is in the details.

The 10 Steps to a Walkable City:

THE USEFUL WALK

1. Put cars in their place.

This was full of useful evidence to prove that cities have been built for cars, and that wide lanes, multi-lanes, enormous left-hand turn lanes and cutting down all the street trees actually make people drive faster and more dangerously. Speck also lays out the evidence for ‘induced demand’, if you build it, the cars will come and traffic will not improve. Common sense, or research pioneered over 30 years by Donald Appleyard among others, has yet to hit the Department of Transportation. If Speck’s book can help that process of realisation in such departments and city governments, I might be glad he wrote it.

I do love this quote of Bernard-Henry Lévy on our autocentric lifestyle:

a global, total obesity that spares no realm of life, public or private. An entire society that, from the top down, from one end to the other, seems prey to this obscure derangement that slowly causes an organism to swell, overflow, explode. (102, from American Vertigo)

2. Mix the uses.

I like mixed uses. But then Speck makes comments about how

city properties often come burdened with a whole range of utility issues, easements and access challenges, not to mention pesky neighbors. Local banks, until recently all too willing to finance condo clusters on the periphery, shy away from investing in new apartments downtown.

‘pesky neighbors’ has been code for poor people, immigrants and people of colour since the 1930s and 40s with the federal governments’ Home Owners Loan Corporation and Real Estate industry guidelines that gave rise to redlining back when deeding your house to be for Caucasians only was widespread and encouraged. Speck continues:

This contemporary version of redlining is a significant reason that downtown housing often cannot be built without municipal support. (107)

and then

…most American cities do not need more affordable housing in their downtowns. Most American cities have too much affordable housing downtown. Or, more accurately, too much of their downtown housing is affordable, since everyone but the poor was able to join the suburban exodus. (109)

He doesn’t mention that despite this ‘fact’, many cities are in an affordable housing crisis where affordable housing is needed by a majority of city residents including teachers and firefighters, that he conflates the poor with people of colour long discriminated against in any attempt to join the suburban exodus, that such redlining might have contributed greatly to generations of poverty, or that affordable housing is now being erased from all downtowns and nothing built to replace it. Millions of people currently homeless and with not even a fraction of the shelter in existence necessary to house them even for a night also go unmentioned.

Some of his biases can be seen in an uncritical passage on resistance to granny flats:

They are typically opposed by neighbors who are worried about property values. An old college friend of mine from Los Angeles put it succinctly: “We are afraid that nine illegals will move in.” (111)

Nothing could make more clear where Speck is coming from. In response Speck notes they will rather

introduce affordability in a dispersed rather than a concentrated way, avoiding the pathologies that sometimes arise from the latter. (111)

As if the pathologies lie in poor people rather than the forces which maintain their concentrated poverty. I suppose he simply joins a long tradition of blaming poor people for poverty here.

3. Get the parking right.

Ah, Donald Shoup from UCLA, stop subsidising things, raise the cost of everything. It makes some sense, until you start thinking about how this will impact people differently. Then questions of equity come to the fore and it is harder for me to support without a lot more thought on how equity will be addressed in a city so car-dependent as LA. I’ve sat through Shoup’s classes, so I know that he failed to impress me on that. Still, better transit, less parking.

4. Let transit work.

I agree. If only he had stopped there, but instead he waxes poetic on improving public transit:

In some of these locations, the bus is destined remain the “loser cruiser,” the mode of choice for those who have no choice: the elderly, the poor, and infirm. As such, it will always be underfunded and struggling for survival, like any social service.

If it is to become widely used, transit has to be ruthlessly reconceptualized as a convenience, not just a rescue vehicle. Or, more accurately, while certain rescue routes must remain — from the old-age home to the health center, for example — the system needs to focus on those rare opportunities where it can offer a superior experience to driving. Those few line should be earmarked for a higher level of service… (155)

The loser-cruiser? Yet this is in fact the current approach of transit experts, it’s why courts have found LA transit, for example, to be racist and discriminatory and put them under a decades long injunction to improve bus routes serving South Central.

In Europe public transit is seen as a right, as an essential part of a city for ALL of its residents. I think it might be better to start there. There is also, of course, a long tradition of work around environmental justice in the US around improving cities that begins there as well.

We return to planning for property value rather than public good. On Bus Rapid Transit versus trains:

… the biggest criticism of bus systems, that they lack rail’s permanence: how can you drive real estate investment around transit if transit might leave? (157)

I don’t even have words for that sentence, and the pathologies of development it describes.

THE SAFE WALK

5. Protect the pedestrian.

6. Welcome bikes.

I’m all for protecting pedestrians and welcoming bikes, but yet again, we see planning for profit:

In contrast to widened roads and other highway “improvements,” new bikeways actually increase the value of nearby real estate. (194)

THE COMFORTABLE WALK

7. Shape the spaces.

I did like this:

Traditional, walkable urbanism is grounded in figural space. It believes that the shape of the spaces between buildings is what matters, because this is the public realm — the place where civic life plays out. (216)

8. Plant trees.

THE INTERESTING WALK

9. Make friendly and unique faces.

Not faces of diversity and enjoyment of space, faces of buildings and parking structures. Again, back to profits, though I have no objection at all to less parking, and what parking exists to be hidden:

Enlightened developers…know that hidden parking boosts retail sales and property values. (238)

10. Pick your winners.

I like this list. My critique is really a critique of an entire point of view that makes improving property values the goal of planning. In that sense, this book did manage to give an outline of how to create a walkable city, but also highlighted very different ideas of who the city is for, and where the interventions will do most to push out and displace current residents without a larger vision and planning process around justice and equity.

For more on building social spaces and better cities…

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Tucson Christmas: Black Santa, naked Santa and more

I love my mom’s neighbourhood, despite the lack of sidewalks and streetlights. It’s not until you wander around (despite the fact that everything works to discourage you from wandering around on foot) that you realise that what looks fairly nondescript is actually full of interest. That each house is unique, probably hand-built by the one-time owner though probably with one of those early kits. They sit in various places on large plots of land, some left as desert, some filled with dead grass, gravel, attempts at landscaping that range from the most basic to the most elaborate.

Christmas just makes it all the more exciting.

The bull in front of Molina’s has always been well-endowed, but the painting of a snowman was a bit unexpected.

Tucson

A pissing fountain dressed in Christmas regalia, though I’m loving the black Santa

Tucson santa

The new fashion for inflatable christmas cheer in unexpectd forms, like a reindeer in a tub with a naked santa mechanically scrubbing his own back

Tucson naked santa

Or Santa on a tractor:

Tucson santa on a tractor

An Armageddon of Christmas cheer now wilted, a collapsed Santa:

Tucson collapsed santa

Santa slamming into a door:

Tucson slamming santa

Oddments collected on a rooftop, but no Santa at all.

Tucson

A few other curiosities of the non-Christmasy kind, like this celebratory remnant

Tucson

One of my favourite churches

Tucson

The unconscious ironies of developers

Tucson

The ubiquitous belief in the coolness of big things, and flames.

Tucson

Bristol Wanderings, Autumn

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Spadefoot! And water everywhere and happiness

Isn’t this baby spadefoot unbelievably beautiful? Jumping away from me in the gravel alley behind Molina’s. Maybe spadefeet like salsa, the smell of tortillas.

But wait, I looked it up. It’s spadefoots! Listen to this (from the Desert Museum, they love exclamation points as much as I do!):

During summer monsoons, the spadefoot is well-known for emerging from its subterranean estivation to breed in the temporary ponds created by the heavy runoff. Interestingly, the cue for adult emergence during these summer thunderstorms is not moisture, but rather low frequency sound or vibration, most likely caused by rainfall or thunder.

Using the spade on the hind foot, spadefoots can quickly bury themselves in loose, sandy soil. During this time young spadefoots need to eat enough food to survive the unfavorable living conditions above the surface of the ground. After eating as much as possible, they too burrow beneath the surface. Breeding may not occur in years with insufficient rainfall. Preying primarily upon beetles, grasshoppers, katydids, ants, spiders, and termites, a spadefoot can consume enough food in one meal to last an entire year!

So adults stay underground in the day — for 8 to 10 months waiting for the monsoons, and also through their active period. But these little metamorphs can be caught at all hours. I scooped him up and let him go down in more safety by the little arroyo, flooded now like I’ve never seen it. He’s got more challenges than a little frog needs, growing up in a parking lot.

Tucson Monsoons

At last my conscious mind registered that funny little bridge,the reason for its existence.

Tucson Monsoons

Today, finally it was cool enough to walk, and mom really needs to be walking. We went down to the store, but had to come this way, the long way, because Belvedere was a little too flooded to cross.

Tucson Monsoons

I don’t remember when I saw or heard Tucson getting this much rain. Maybe way back in eighty-four. The great flood. We lost power at home, we were trapped for several days…living in the city isn’t nearly so much fun. We are so removed from everything, the desert flattened and sealed from us beneath asphalt and concrete. But with the flowing of water you can imagine the contours of what used to be here, the arroyos carving through the flats.

Tucson Monsoons

It feels so different from the everyday. Even this sprawling landscape of box buildings, unique owner-built homes and empty lots felt beautiful, though I still mourn the desert.

Tucson Monsoons

Tucson Monsoons

Tucson Monsoons

The sunsets have been wonderful

Tucson Monsoons

Tucson Monsoons

Me, I’ve been trying to face down my anxieties about writing, I now am confident in 6 of the 8 pieces of Qi Gong brocade, and going through more of the stuff we crammed into storage during the foreclosure. Look at these…part of the soundtrack of my old life as part of the Gibbons family. And a vacation guide from the days when driving gloves were still cool.

Tucson Monsoons

We were hell of cool singing along the Clancy Brothers and Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline and Marty Robbins.

Also, I sold a story today! Stars Falling. It’s the Perseid shower this week too. I don’t know if those two things are connected except that I started this long ago in LA during a meteor shower, but it’s nice.

Now, some gratuitous pictures of Meli-pops.

 Tucson Monsoons

Tucson Monsoons

Walk: Farm-Bradbourne-Ballidon-Brassington-Farm

It rained and I was tired, but still went for a walk. A beautiful, very wet walk. This walk featured lambs, horses, incredible views, a neolithic and anglo-saxon burial mound, lead mines and pits, a Norman church with incredible carved entry, a Saxon cross also beautifully carved if well worn, the grave of actor Alan Bates, beautiful stone villages, incredibly seductive stiles, a pub called the miners’ arms, spring flowers, ruins, a cat in the rain and slugs where slugs really shouldn’t be. I wanted to write more, I may yet, but I am very tired.

I am so very excited about sleeping in tomorrow.

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Lovely Weekend in Plymouth

I quite love this city, and spent one of my Devon weekends here. We walked through the Barbican a bit — and some lovely little side streets, old and stone-filled, narrow and full of faded colour:

Plymouth

Plymouth

Plymouth

So much of this country is haunted by what was.

Plymouth

We walked down along the sound as well

Plymouth

Plymouth

Also haunted

Plymouth

Plymouth

Plymouth

Not least by J.G. Ballard.

Plymouth

We managed a few of the ordinary everyday streets of Plymouth as well, apologies for sharing the most picturesque.

Plymouth

As we wandered back from a visit to Saltram House. I really wanted to see gardens — they were nice here, but not too special. The wildflowers were wonderful though.

Plymouth - Saltram House

Plymouth - Saltram House

Plymouth - Saltram House

Full of old beautiful trees

Plymouth - Saltram House

Plymouth - Saltram House

The house was all right, though I never do care too much for these massive displays of wealth really:

Plymouth - Saltram House

But I always love the kitchens. An early patented ‘portable refrigerator’ and more…

Plymouth - Saltram House

Plymouth - Saltram House

Also good for deeper insight into the class system:

Plymouth - Saltram House

The library was lovely — along with early adjustable shelves and Blount’s Jocular Tenures!

Plymouth - Saltram House

I also enjoyed the step stool into bed

Plymouth - Saltram House

and this early bathroom

Plymouth - Saltram House

Saltram House

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And just because I never did blog this earlier trip, and more pictures of things like the barbican and the point the Mayflower left from and all that sort of thing

Plymouth 2014

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A little prettier perhaps than the pics from this last trip…

Plymouth 2016

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London Left

For now at least. Because it doesn’t seem at all real. Perhaps because I have not moved into somewhere else. There is no other home. Most of my things now sit boxed and bagged beneath the eves of my wonderful friend Heather’s loft, she and Geoffrey, Mark and I having completed one of the labours of Hercules to get them up there. They are safe.

I have a strange ache along my right side, but it’s fast disappearing.

I have no home.

I do have Mark, which is where my heart is. And a corner here, and some of the books I hope to use for research and writing over the summer.

London is an impossible city to say goodbye to.

Above all I will miss people. I know I should have had some kind of evening, some kind of open goodbye kind of a party, but I didn’t have the heart for it. Too much to plan on top of everything else. Moving house, massive academic job applications, a blog for the British Library, articles to finish. The anniversary of my dad’s death, which always knocks me a bit endways. My birthday thrown in there, and me hitting a decade mark. My birthday was the last time I talked to my dad when he was really with it, before fever had sent him delirious. He was already in hospital then. I miss him terribly. He’d quite enjoy my farming plans, as my mum does.

Starting this evening, I will be farming. So this blog will change a bit from cities to countryside, from academic literature to orchards and lambs. It will probably be much more exciting for a while.

But this last one… Goodbyes. Endings. I suppose always most important is people. I said goodbye to a few of the people I love most that I love London for having brought me, but not all. Not close. True friends never have to say forever goodbyes though. Goodbye to LSE, which I won’t miss really, but Holborn and Lincolns Inn Fields I really will.

Lincolns Inn Fields

Easier was to make a list of places I had not yet seen and see a last few of them — that also made me feel that I had done well to see so much because it wasn’t actually that long a list. Freud’s house and a last visit to Kew Gardens and the self-built council flats in Lewisham and the dinosaurs in Crystal Palace are the things I regret not managing to squeeze in. I blame the marathon, because the plan was always to leave on Sunday not Saturday. But plans change I guess.

Because it was my birthday weekend last weekend, we hit the town a little bit. I have never really done the cocktail thing here, so we did it. Friday we went to the cocktail bar in St Pancras Hotel — the ridiculous gaudy Victorian creation of Gilbert C. Scott who bequeathed his name to the bar. I loved it. The cocktails were marvelous as well, and a touch of absinthe always brings bubbly happiness — which is the opposite of what I always think it’s supposed to do, but I fist learned otherwise with the marvelous Switchblade cocktail created for our noir imprint. My phone was out of juice, I got no pictures.

Goodbye to my beloved Brixton and Brixton Village, the latin brunch place with Olive Morris on the wall and delicious food and intense hot sauce:

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A last show at the National Theatre — Les Blancs by Lorraine Hansberry.

Chancery Lane to my favourite pub (apart from the Effra), the Seven Stars

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More cocktails starting at Simpsons in the Strand — first learned of it the old film Sabotage (1936) as THE place to go for a steak. We went for martinis instead, but never do the floral gin martini thing.

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As a place Simpsons as a whole does have a lovely old-elegance atmosphere, and chess is everywhere as this was once the place for that. The cocktail bar not quite as exciting.

At this point I was brave enough to walk boldly into the Savoy and ask where the cocktails were at. There are two bars there, the woman suggested we try both, and that sounded like a really good idea. We started in this black and gold room full of beautiful young things and with some guy playing the piano in that sickly sweet sort of way that college boys think will get them laid. There were pop-up books with an around-the-world in cocktails theme, making you remember once again that Empire hasn’t really gone away. There was a £12,000 pound cocktail using up a barrel of rather ancient rum, a number of others around the £650 and £750 mark, and then a few for under £20. Ours were nice enough.

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The American Bar in the Savoy was much better. Of course it was, because this is where Lauren Bacall and Bogey used to hang out, and why we came here at all.

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Cocktails were better here too — or maybe we just made better selections.

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We called it an (expensive) night.

Sunday we went to the exhibit at the V&A Museum of Childhood — I’d never been, and was quite amazed to see all of the toys I’d wanted growing up and never been able to afford. In that sense we agreed it was a little bit of a museum of the commodification of childhood, but it was still pretty awesome to see these guys, my favourite action figures apart from stormtroopers:

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Some of the old motion picture/camera toys were amazing too.

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And this was a special moment:

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Really though, we were there to see first the exhibition on child migration, which was small but powerful and I think I shall write more about it later — I never knew that thousands of children were sent to the colonies until reading about Dr Barnardo, but it is such a chilling chapter in our history.

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Second, and most wonderful was the special section on Peter Firmin and his marvelous creations with Oliver Postgate. Bagpuss, Ivor the Engine, Nog, the Clangers.

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From there we headed north, to see 2 Willow Rd, the home built by Erno Goldfinger — the home that pissed Ian Flemming off so much he created a villain in the architect’s honour. Of course, I cared more about the modernist archietct of the Balfour tower and etc.

On the way we passed the rather palatial residence of the Fabian Webbs:

Hamstead

A bit of contrast, as you can see.

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This was brilliant (I couldn’t take pictures of the wonderful art, it is full of wonderful art).

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More contrast again with Keats’ home

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Or this classic

Hamstead

We wandered to the Spaniards Inn, old and lovely and part of the whole Dick Turpin highwayman mythology and also well known to Keats, Dickens and others — sadly now overflowing with people we didn’t care for. Though I don’t know I would have cared much for Keats either. We wandered back through lovely woods, passed Evelyn Waugh’s house.

Hampstead

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Finished up with birthday dinner at Rules — again my phone dead. Oldest restaurant in London. Mostly tourists in there, and hunting trophies on the walls and leather and wood.

Then just a long week of goodbyes, packing, goodbyes. A last poetry reading at St Katharine’s yurt lates. A mad concert to see Shostakovitch played by the Borodin Quartet at Wigmore Hall the night before I moved. Frantic packing, moving, hauling, loading, cleaning. Trains and hauling. Sore muscles and sore heart.

Goodbye London. I might even be back, but I think you are far too expensive for me.

And now let the interim farming adventure begin.