It’s odd, or perhaps interesting is the word I want, the things that give you street cred. In my case it’s never going to be my clothes or anything else about my appearance, though in my defence I can claim to have been a precursor of several clothing trends: Levi shrink to fit straight leg jeans when everyone else was in flares, a tweedy jacket several seasons before they featured on catwalks, and Adidas Stan Smiths decades before they became the in footwear. All of these were accidental, driven by economy and thrift.
Today was different. I was walking home from MCQ, a wonderful treasure trove of a shop owned by Clyde, and Mary Portus’ idea of a vision from hell. I was carrying my newly repaired amp. A man sitting outside a café on the Walworth Road beamed a huge smile at me and made continuous eye-contact. “NAD,” he said, “A 3020. Nice. Very nice.” I was beaming myself as I continued my journey home.
Some simple interactions like this can do so much to lift the spirits. I don’t think I’d recognise the man if I met him tomorrow, and I reckon unless I was again carrying my amp, he wouldn’t even notice me.
My MCQ collection was just one of the things of my to do list. I was working via Zoom in the morning so at home, tied to phone and internet. The flat needed cleaning. With the windows open these past weeks the amount of dust is startling. I am very glad I do not have asthma. I took some fabric to Rocket Van. They are going to photograph it for me to include in the virtual yard sales. They have turned down my Tourlet Lulu. I am realising people are prissy about second hand portable toilets, however little they have been used and however much they have been cleaned and disinfected. I’d hate it to end up in landfill, so I shall have to keep trying. Anyone here who goes camping/glamping/champing or makes long car journeys where public toilets may not be available, or whose toilet is unusable thanks to building work, or if you are just having problems with an on-board toilet on your boat, please get in touch. I can share pictures.
Yesterday evening Celia and I took advantage of the warm evening and late sunset for an evening walk. We didn’t have a plan, but ended up in Myatts Field Park. There were several foxes, all very young, flitting silently along the paths. We sat on a bench and enjoyed the quiet in the fading light. A few dog walkers went past us. A greyhound, off leash, which is probably against the park regulations, but never mind that, went past us several times as it enjoyed its bursts of energy. It was lovely. We are going to do it again.
I rang the marina where I hope das Boot will be sold and spoke to the owner. I admitted to feeling that by the time the repairs are done and I am back from Ireland the season will be advanced and I shall I have missed the opportunity to sell. Maybe he was talking up his business, but the owner was positive. Hampton Safaris are popular and don’t come up for sale that often, he said. We shall see. I’ll call him when I am back in London.
Tonight there was a meeting for the neighbours who are looking after MasterB. They had their diaries, and I hope every day was covered. I also hope they will spend time with the Boy, as he likes company and I don’t like to think of him being fed and watered but not cuddled. I’ll want pictures. Neither man nor cats can live by bread alone. Tomorrow I must call Cousin and check she remembers I am visiting.
It’s quite late now, so I shall shuffle off to bed. I am hoping to post more when I am in NI. That is always supposing that no further spike in numbers of Covid cars, no lockdown, will prevent me going. I’m rather glad I am going to be in the depths of the country as Johnson’s ‘freedom day’ unfurls.
Stay safe. Keep feel. Wear your mask.