london

these past few weeks

Where do I begin? As I tell myself when I sit down at my desk each day - begin somewhere. Anywhere.

As you might have been able to guess from the above photos, I’ve just got back from nearly four weeks in the UK - my former home, the site of so many important and happy years of my life. This visit was not for happy reasons, however, and given that we’ve been in the grip of a global pandemic for the past two years (and with still around 300 deaths a week in Australia this month alone, I do not believe it’s over yet), I personally wouldn’t have chosen to make this trip at this point in time. But we did, and we made the best of it. More importantly, we survived everything that needed to be faced, and are safely home.

Having not left Tasmania since January 2020, it was a very welcome change of scene, despite there being a lot of stressful things to negotiate and our time being limited. However, we definitely tried to make the most of being there. I saw sites related to my PhD which I had long made my peace with never seeing in person while writing this book, so that was incredible. We made pilgrimages to literary sites I had always wanted to see but never made the time to go to when we lived here, which I’d since very much regretted. We drove over 1,000 miles all over the country. We saw some dear friends, as many of them as we could, and even made some new ones. We spent a lot of time in cemeteries. We even got to enjoy the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, which was lovely - no country does pageantry quite like the UK, am I right?

I love the UK, and always will. There are many things I miss about life there, my friends especially. But this trip confirmed for both of us that Hobart is definitely our home and moving back here four years ago was 100% the right decision. In many ways, this trip was like returning to an old life for a few weeks and while that was great fun in some respects, it was also a reminder of what we had outgrown or grown tired of. We felt very homesick for Australia while we were gone; a longing that on my part felt marrow deep. When we were finally on our flight back to Perth, I’m not embarrassed to admit my lip was trembling when the Qantas theme started playing!

I’ve spent the last week waking up at 3:30am (!), ploughing straight back into work including a conference and giving a paper on four hours sleep, and making food that requires long, slow cooking because that is my mode at the moment - go slow. To have gone from a heatwave in London and tanned forearms to an icy, dark winter and flannelette sheets on the bed has been a bit of a mind-bend, in more ways than one. But we’re deeply relieved to be back. It was nice to have an adventure, but even nicer to come home.

I’ll do my best to share the trip with you via my usual This Week headings!

Favourite experience/s

Our first tube ride, fresh off the plane. We have, of course, done that journey a thousand times - the Piccadilly line from Heathrow out to Southgate, almost at the other end of the line, which takes about 75 minutes. Our Oysters still had a little credit on them! From the moment we touched in to riding the escalator to alight at Southgate, we were both overwhelmed by how nice it was to see it all again - how nostalgic we were as the train passed through all the familiar stations that used to signal the end of the working day. The comforting familiarity of it all, how innately we knew the system, exactly where to go and what to do, as if no time had passed at all. At the same time, we were seeing it with fresh, new eyes and it felt kind of wondrous.

Surprising our old neighbours with an impromptu visit! I love surprises - both planning them for others and being on the receiving end of one - so I got a real thrill out of seeing how blown away our old friends were at finding us on their doorstep! We sat and chatted in their living room as the sun went down that first night, next door to our old flat, and it felt just like old times, like we had never been gone.

A morning run around my old neighbourhood park, and brunch afterwards at our old favourite cafe. It was nice to see how many local businesses had survived the lockdowns (and also sad to see how many hadn’t).

Experiencing the new Elizabeth line! We arrived on the day it opened and I was stunned at both the transformation in the stations that I had grown used to being building sites (cough, Moorgate, cough!) and in the efficiency of the line. You can be in Liverpool Street in two stops from Tottenham Court Road now. Mind. Blown.

All PhD related site visits - some in London, some in other parts of England, but all made the world of my characters (I say that for ease, they were real people, but I’m writing fiction) so much more alive and vivid for me. Being able to smell the air, to hear the sound of the wind in the trees, to see what flowers grow wild there in the summer, to see buildings that were already a hundred or so years old when they were living there or to feel the energy of a place where the buildings are long gone….it was beyond anything I could have imagined.

Reunions with wonderful people I love. I wish we could have seen everyone, but sadly it was a very jam-packed schedule and it wasn’t always possible to give people enough of a heads up. I worried too that in between jet lag and all the stress of the reasons why we were there, people weren’t exactly seeing us at our best either. But I needn’t have worried - everyone was very kind, understanding and accommodating, for which my gratitude is boundless. And while I’m also deeply grateful for the modern wonders that are FaceTime and Zoom, nothing quite beats seeing friends in person.

Norwich - a fabulous city we unexpectedly spent quite a bit of time in! I love it there. Wonderful places to eat, great pubs, decent coffee, a branch of my favourite UK clothing brand (Seasalt Cornwall), charity shops full of hidden treasures, an awesome bookshop, and so much history! We saw the cathedral, which dates back to 1145, and a pub that’s been open in the same spot since 1249. The mind boggles.

Seeing Sylvia Plath’s grave. This was deeply moving - sad and strange yet beautiful. I was expecting a bit of a throng of fellow Plath fans and having to wait my turn, but Tom and I found ourselves in a deserted, quiet cemetery on a bright summer afternoon. The grave is overgrown with blue forget-me-nots and I was enchanted by the number of bees buzzing around merrily in the flowers. I think she might have quite liked being a haven for bees who “taste the spring”. It was quiet and peaceful, but not quite what one of the most influential poets of the twentieth century deserves, in my opinion.

Haworth Parsonage - what a wondrous morning we spent here! I could have spent the entire day there happily. It was a real pinch myself moment; the building and its contents have been beautifully preserved by the Brontë society and there are some truly fascinating artefacts inside. My girlhood passion for the Brontës has been well and truly reignited; this visit reminded me of why I had been so fascinated by them.

Meeting lots of lovely dogs - I had forgotten how dog-friendly everything is in the UK! Every pub we went to had a dog in it, to my delight. And they usually made a bee-line for me, much to Tom’s amusement. “Every time! I don’t know what it is,” he laughed.

Anything food-related - see further!

Reading

On reflection, I should have bought all of these books too.

I have to admit, I barely read at all while we were away - apart from the news and anything work-related, because I was still working intermittently throughout the trip. So, this section will be devoted to the wonder that is UK bookshops! I hit all the big ones in London - Hatchards, Waterstones Piccadilly, Foyles on Charing Cross Road, the Brick Lane Bookshop - as well as The Book Hive in Norwich, several Oxfams and we also made a stop at Hay-on-Wye, famous for being one of the UK’s most bookish destinations with no less than 25 bookshops in the tiny village.

I had deliberately packed light so I had plenty of room to bring books back with me. I think it would be safe to say that over half of my suitcase’s final going-home weight was in books. I make no apologies - I am who I am!

Persephone has moved from London to Bath in the years since we’ve been gone, which was not on our itinerary, but thankfully there were plenty of places to procure Persephones about the place. I snaffled a grand total of six. I will be set for Persephones for some time - I do enjoy having a stockpile of them to work my way through!

We also managed to get a SIGNED copy of Jarvis Cocker’s new book which was released on my birthday (an omen). Procured from my old favourite Brick Lane Bookshop, who were as obliging and friendly as ever.

I also loved being able to pick up a copy of Waitrose magazine again - for May and June! Oh, Waitrose - how I’d missed you!

Listening to

The theme tune of our road trip was this song. Quite the ear worm, apologies in advance!

My husband would also like to inform readers of this blog that he procured some vinyl and CDs that are nigh on impossible to get in Australia and enjoyed that aspect of the trip immensely.

Eating

Chips with beer in a pub. Need I say more?

Before this trip, I could count the number of times I have eaten a meal out over the past two years on one hand. I had forgotten what a treat it is, and how exciting it is to try new things and get new ideas for your own cooking. We had some lovely and memorable meals out, interspersed with the wonderful home cooking of friends and family, and we also sampled some of our favourite treats from our old life - Fox’s Chocolate Rounds and M&S hummus (me), Skips and M&S Dutch Shortcakes (Tom), Monster Munch (both). Some lived up to our nostalgic memories and others didn’t! It is funny how your palate sometimes changes as you get older.

Mildred’s - an old favourite in King’s Cross which didn’t disappoint. We started with artichokes with panelle (fried chickpea batter), followed by a “chicken” kebab with kachumber, and a sweet potato and green bean curry with pea-flecked turmeric rice. All so very delicious. And a much needed injection of veg after a day of eating mostly pastries!

Sicilian lemon tart at Theo Randall’s - my birthday cake this year! The meal there was stunning, as always. And I so enjoyed drinking Italian, Spanish and French white wines on this trip, as an aside. There is a freshness about them that always makes me think of happy summers during the years I lived in such close proximity to all three countries.

Wagamama - another old favourite that has had an incredible menu overhaul, with so many delicious vegan options now. I tried the spicy “chicken” ramen (pictured left) and hoisin “duck” rice bowl (right) and both were amazing. The rice bowl even had a vegan “egg”, made from coconut. It was surprisingly realistic!

My aunt is an incredible cook - everything is delicious and wholesome, yet also indulgent. On our first night with her, she had made Nigella Lawson’s liquorice pudding for dessert, which was divine. I will be making it myself very soon!

Not a particularly ambrosial eating experience but a memorable one - we had been driving all day, some 400 miles, and were finally where we needed to be. We found a Travelodge and collapsed wearily on to the bed. Unable to face the idea of going out again, or even of other human interaction, I had had the foresight to buy some Pot Noodles so that was our dinner - boiling the hotel kettle and slurping up these noodles, which were surprisingly good. It felt like we were in our own version of Long Way Round.

We stayed a night with a dear friend in Hertfordshire (readers of my old blog might remember me referring to “my friend the GP” on occasion, this was her!) and after a happy and emotional reunion, she served us a wondrous spaghetti puttanesca which was so comforting and delicious after a day of driving. Accompanied by a chilled Spanish white wine, and with the comforting smell of her cooking in the air and the evening sun golden in the garden, I breathed a deep sigh of relief that the hardest part of the trip was over.

Some amazing Indian takeaway with our friends in south London. Indian food in the UK is really phenomenal, almost as good as being in India itself!

A birthday lunch of Pilpel felafel, which used to be my go-to whenever I would treat myself to a takeaway lunch when I worked nearby. Fresh, healthy, delicious, and the felafel remain the best I have ever had.

But the foodie highlight of the trip was a meal at Erpingham House in Norwich which, if you’re in the UK, I can only urge you to visit as soon as humanly possible, whether you’re vegan or not. You won’t fail to be impressed with the creativity, the quality of the food and its deliciousness.

FSH and smashed potatoes - heaven! It’s a battered banana blossom.

I wish we had been able to sample everything on the menu but in the end, Tom and I both had “fsh” and smashed potatoes (pictured above) and my aunt had “lamb”, and that took quite some deliberation! It’s such a treat to go somewhere and be able to order everything on the menu, not just be scanning for the V or VO options. I got so much inspiration for my cooking from this one meal here. It was simply outstanding.

And, believe it or not, the airline food was OK! I had two favourites - a paratha stuffed with coconut lentils and mushrooms that was served as a midnight snack somewhere between Indonesia and Dubai on the way over, and char kway teow style rice noodles with tofu served for lunch on the Perth to Melbourne flight. Qantas, you did good!

Watching

I discovered Mary McCartney Serves It Up by accident and ended up watching every episode I could lay my hands on - such a charming show with the elegant and charming Mary who cooks all vegan food. I particularly enjoyed Dave Grohl appearing as a guest!

Dinner Date - our old ITV favourite, a comfort watch that has lost none of the cringe factor! For those who don’t know, it’s a reality show where a single man or woman is given five menus to choose from - of those five, they pick the three they most like the sound of (or, most likely, the three the producers have decided would make the most interesting/awkward TV!) and are then subjected to three blind dates where said blind dates cook a three course meal for the guest. At the end of the trio of blind dates, the guest chooses the host they most felt a spark with and off they go, out for a meal they haven’t had to cook! The two unpicked hosts get a commiseration prize of a ready meal. It’s my favourite kind of reality TV and I so enjoyed catching up on a few episodes! I’m pretty sure there’s been an Australian version, which I’ll have to sniff out.

We were also introduced to the nature program Springwatch, which I had never seen before - it’s broadcast live from a series of cameras all over the UK, which “charts the fortunes of British wildlife during the changing of the seasons”. Some stories have a soap opera element about them, with some quite dramatic fates of certain nests of fledglings! It’s really quite relaxing to watch at the end of the day. And oddly hilarious in places, as birds really do get up to some crazy things.

We also watched the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee concert which opened with the Queen and Paddington Bear, which was so very sweet (Paddington 2 is an incredible film, if you’ve not seen it, FYI). We were also in the country during the vote of no confidence in Boris Johnson so naturally were glued to the BBC for the results of that…

Finally, finding Stanley Tucci’s Searching for Italy available to watch on the flight home after not being able to watch it in Australia was amazing! Dear Stanley, what a lovely man he is. How I would love to be friends with him and Felicity! The program is so thoughtfully and passionately put together, and some parts of it are so tender and moving. And guaranteed to make you want to eat pasta, I’d say.

Quote of the trip

“It’s always better to travel hopefully.” - Rick Stein

Whenever we found ourselves despairing or overcome with anxiety (which sadly but unavoidably happened quite frequently on this trip) about what lay ahead and all the things that could go wrong, one of us would say to the other “travel hopefully”, which is what Rick Stein says at the beginning of his Secret France series, admittedly in the very different context of being hopeful of finding some great food and wine on his travels. We were rewatching some comfort TV in the lead up to our departure, in a bid to keep all the anxiety at bay, and when we heard Rick say the words “travel hopefully”, it became our mantra. And it helped.

It’s hard to explain and I know a lot of people won’t understand, but we had not even gone to the mainland in all this time, so the idea of making such a big journey was very daunting and still felt incredibly risky. We had grown very used to overseas travel being government-sanctioned and off limits, so to be doing it again with very few restrictions felt so strange, almost surreal. And frightening at times, to be honest. I’m proud of how resilient we both were, how we just got on with things, and stayed positive in the face of some very challenging experiences.

And somehow, by some miracle (because our flights were full and we were definitely in the minority in terms of consistent mask wearing), we have remained Covid free! Masks and vaccinations for the win. And travelling hopefully doesn’t hurt either.

So there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the recap! As always, thank you for reading and if you’d like to share your thoughts on this post, or anything else, with me, then please do. I’ll be back later in the week with my usual This Week wrap up. It’s good to be home. xx

life lessons

Today I found a poem (well, I called it a poem - collection of thoughts might be more accurate!) I wrote when I was 27. I’m now 40, and I think the advice it contains has stood the test of time.

Me in Hyde Park, age 27. Photo taken by Tom, my then boyfriend, now husband of 11 years.

Me in Hyde Park, age 27. Photo taken by Tom, my then boyfriend, now husband of 11 years.


If it sounds too good to be true
it probably is.
Pick your friends wisely.
Never take happiness for granted.
Try to finish what you start.
Don't sneeze too loudly
in public.
Wear lipstick on Sundays.
Remember you don't have to fake it
when you're with the right person.
There is nothing that can stop you,
short of death.
Recycle.
Smell strawberries,
roses and clean hair
with equal delight.
Drink water.
Have more books than clothes.
Always offer.
Buy a good coat.
Say please.
Don't rent a flat when you can see
rat bait in the kitchen.
A good bolognaise needs red wine.
As does cheese.
Take a day off. Don't be afraid to ask
for what you want.
But don't do it just because you can.
Write only, and flamboyantly,
with a fountain pen.
Wear sunscreen.
Say thank you.
Smile at people on public transport.
You'll either brighten their day,
or confuse them.
Find some stars for your sky.

letters of our lives: to my turning point

This is my third letter in the Letters of our Lives project. Isabel’s is here.

big-magic-london-2018

Two and a half years ago, something momentous happened to me.

I still feel overwhelmed when I remember it.

I wrote about it in June 2018 and shared it with my newsletter subscribers (for various reasons, that newsletter only ever had one issue!) but I felt moved to share it today as part of this Letters of Our Lives instalment.

I hope it’s a reminder to anyone who is feeling stuck and lost that you can always find a way forward - you just might have to be prepared to face some uncomfortable truths. And sometimes some Big Magic gets involved too!

Enjoy.

****

To my turning point:

It was May 2018. I had been feeling very lost, and not particularly strong and solid. Life for the last few years had felt like driving on a highway leading somewhere I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, and yet I constantly found excuses not to pull off at the next exit and change direction. Because pulling over to the side and checking the map, maybe even getting some rest and thinking do I want to turn back? Do I want to take the next exit and get off? Do I even know where I’m going? all felt a bit too hard.

And I knew what that sounded like - defeatist and negative, and even a bit self-indulgent. That had been my default way of thinking a long time ago, in my teens and early twenties, but clearly it was creeping back. Like many people, I had thought a better version of myself was waiting in the future once I achieved X, Y and Z. But there was not. I still didn’t feel like I was good enough and my achievements of the past decade suddenly meant very little.

Two years earlier I had written a book about how the “after photo” is just an illusion, and that achieving something and expecting your life to be different on the other side of it is just setting yourself up for a fall. So to be struggling with that very issue was a bit embarrassing, to say the least!

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but all the important lessons in my life have been learned the hard way. This one particularly. There’s a line from the film Cool Runnings which puts it perfectly:

“A gold medal is a wonderful thing. But if you're not enough without one, you'll never be enough with one."

As a result, my writing had stalled at this point in time, even though I had thrown myself into writing my second book in a desperate bid to break the spell. But pressure and inspiration don’t mix – it’s like adding soy sauce to a Victoria sponge. It will not end well.

Despite knowing that things needed to change, and ultimately that responsibility lay with me (another message from my book I was conveniently ignoring), and no matter how many supportive conversations I had with my husband and friends, I felt so stuck.

Enter, you, my turning point, on Saturday 19 May 2018.

Somehow, I found myself at a workshop in the centre of London. The Big Magic workshop, run by one of my heroes, the author Elizabeth Gilbert. I had been told, randomly, about it by one of my Instagram followers who wanted to know if I was going too. Miraculously, there were still tickets available, so I nabbed one as an early birthday present to myself.

A few days out from the event, I received an email from the organisers, asking attendees to submit questions for the Q&A, as there was only a limited time to ask them on the day and this was the most efficient process, given they were expecting a lot of people. I wrote a question, at 7am while sipping coffee, completely uncensored. In a sleepy daze, I just hit send.

I immediately regretted it and got hit with what Brene Brown calls “the vulnerability hangover”.  I read the email back and felt a pang of shame – I’d said too much. But it was too late now.

I reassured myself that there would be hundreds of people going and what were the chances my question would be picked and answered by Liz Gilbert herself?

unnamed.gif

So I arrived at the workshop, alone, as my friend couldn’t make it after all, and was quite taken by the atmosphere inside this giant hall, slowly filling up with excited-looking people who all seemed very friendly. There was such a lovely vibe in the room.

When Liz walked in, the room went wild! I could hardly believe it was her, in the flesh. And so began our wonderful workshop, where we did writing exercises and then Liz walked around in the audience and encouraged people to share what they’d written. Bizarrely, in a room of nearly 1,000 people, it felt so intimate and safe to share. Whenever someone was hesitant to speak, the support in the room was palpable, you could feel it in the air. With encouragement from Liz and the people around us, we discovered our courage and persistence that had long been lying dormant and dared to listen to what our fear and our enchantment had to tell us.

I loved how Liz carried herself too. At that time she was grieving deeply, having only lost her partner Rayya to cancer a few months earlier, and yet she was so open and generous, making space for sadness and joy, and with very clear boundaries. People did, naturally, try and get a book signed or get her attention in various ways throughout the day, and each time she acknowledged them with kindness and explained why she couldn’t give them what they wanted. It was inspiring to see.

By the end of the workshop, I felt I had really turned a corner. The exercises we had done had helped excavate a lot of rubble lying in my heart. I felt like a veil had been lifted and I could see things more clearly than I had before. I felt inspired, reawakened, alive and ready to do whatever it took to start driving down the highway of life with purpose again. And, more importantly, have the guts to take the exit off the smooth road and start exploring the windier ones.

But then came the Q&A. I felt nervous, for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.

The moderator explained that there had been over 100 questions and they only had time for five. We got through the first three, and then the moderator said to the room, with nearly 1,000 people eagerly listening and one of the people I most admire in the world sitting on the stage with a microphone, “is Philippa from London here?”

It was one of the most petrifying moments of my life! But a moment that also managed to be humbling, uplifting and mind-blowing at the same time.

I raised my hand to identify myself, the moderator read out my question and Liz looked right at me. She truly has the presence of a spiritual teacher, where it feels like she is seeing right into your soul, willing you to find the answers that lie in there, that she can see clearly and that you probably know deep down are there but listening to them would mean having to do something. It would mean running out of excuses, which are the easiest things in the world to make.

To begin with, she smiled and said a few kind things to me and then said, “But I’m going to have to be a hard-ass on you. So, you didn’t get what you wanted. Welcome to the world.”

The room was silent. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. “So, what now?”  she asked.

She told me (well, the whole room, but it felt like it was just me!) about her journey, that her first book sold 6,000 copies and then Eat Pray Love sold 12 million. But the effort to keep going, after both perceived failure and success, is the same.

“What’s the alternative? Not trying? Giving up? You wouldn’t be here if that was what you wanted.”

She told me, and the room, that our only job is to serve our creativity. And for me, my only task is to let my next book be whatever it needs to be. Finding out what it wants to become – and what the next book wants to become, and the next, and the next - is the whole point of the journey.

She spoke a little about the creative journey, and how dangerous it is to get caught up in “the industry” and “making it”. She then read us the Celtic Prayer of Approach, which I now have pinned up by my desk.

I honor your Gods.
I drink at your well,
I bring an undefended heart to our meeting place,
I have no cherished outcomes,
I will not negotiate by withholding, and
I am not subject to disappointment.

“Write your next book,” Liz said, her gaze not leaving my face. “And write the next one, and the next one. Go forth and serve your creativity. You deserve it.”

After the thanks (from me) and applause, we moved on to the last question, but I must admit I was in a bit of a world of my own by then. I wiped the tears that had found their way out of my eyes away and sat there, so overwhelmed and profoundly moved. One of my heroes took the time to address me, stared me and my fear and entitlement down and said “get on with it.” They were words I really needed to hear and she said them with so much respect, love and conviction.

There, in a room full of strangers, confronted by my limiting beliefs and excuses, and Liz Gilbert fixing me in a loving but “come on, you’re better than this” gaze, I knew this was my turning point. I knew the inertia and fear of the last few years was over. I finally felt something shift. I felt light, for the first time in a long time. A line was drawn. I knew I wouldn’t keep giving in to fear.

I felt so vulnerable but I also felt so seen. And feeling seen was worth the pain of feeling vulnerable.

And even though it was a room full of people I didn't know, it felt so safe. So many people shared. People who have seen and known far harder things than I have. I was so moved and so very, very grateful.

The whole experience was such a gift. Not just the gift of having the next best thing to a direct line to Liz Gilbert, but the gift of being in a room of like-minded, friendly and open people who restored my faith that, in a world that seems constantly full of bad news, most of us just want to connect with others, and feel seen and heard. And if Liz Gilbert tells you to write your next book, you’re officially out of excuses!

Afterwards, I walked out into the balmy Saturday sunshine. As the Royal Wedding was on, most of central London was quiet. I walked to my favourite bookshop to keep my promise to Enchantment and bought two poetry books. I don’t write a lot of poetry myself any more [note from 2020: that’s changed!] but reading it feeds my soul like nothing else. Enchantment reminded me of that.

Two and a half years later, my next book isn’t finished yet but it’s being written. I actually don’t know what my next book will be - there are several possibilities - but I’m working, regularly and with a willing spirit, on them. I have no cherished outcomes.

I also now live a life where my creativity and writing are at the centre of it, the focus of every day. I feel fulfilled and happy. In 2018 Tom and I made a lot of changes and while not everything has gone to plan, we haven’t looked back. I know, without a doubt, that everything is unfolding exactly as it should.

In many ways, that was the best outcome from that day that I could have hoped for.

Thank you Liz Gilbert, and the Universe, for that turning point.

Love, Phil xxx

when july was summer

Gin and tonics in our backyard last July.

Gin and tonics in our backyard last July.

Last July, it was summer, not winter.

Our one-way tickets to Australia were booked.

London wasn’t home any more. It’s a hard feeling to describe, when life is carrying on as much as it always has, but now there is no point buying plants for the garden, or that piece of furniture, for you know now there is an end date, and soon you will leave this corner of the earth. The house you live in and love will soon be someone else’s. You will disappear. It will be as if you had never been there at all.

Here is something I wrote at the time. Just some little observations. Things I wanted to remember.

Tom and I walking up to the street fair, July 2018

Tom and I walking up to the street fair, July 2018

8 July 2018

The third weekend in a row of high temperatures, the sun beating down, unfiltered by cloud. My shoulders tanned brown. Tom and I walk up to the village Green, where there’s a street fair. They’ve closed the road by the train station so the usually car-choked streets are filled with donkey rides, Enfield for Europe protestors, gin and tonic stands, a Mini convertible we know no one will win. The smells are intoxicating - Caribbean food, curries, kebabs, Vietnamese tofu grilled on hot coals, halloumi fries piled with pomegranate seeds.

enfield-for-europe-july-2018-philippa-moore

England are playing Sweden in the World Cup in a few hours so giant television screens are set up on the green, the air full of expectation. By the time we walk home with food for lunch, the streets will have emptied significantly. A few hours later, roars, screams and cheers will signal that England have triumphed. 

I linger at the plant stall, my favourite, full of varieties of sage and mint - apple, peppermint, pineapple. Heartsease, its purple flowers shaped like little hearts. House leeks, to ward off bad spirits. Thai basil, which I’m longing to cook with having been watching Rick Stein’s Far Eastern Odyssey. All the plants I would buy if we weren’t leaving. But it’s going to pain me to part with the ones I already have. I keep my coins in my purse and move on. 

plant-stall-london-philippa-moore

For weeks now we have lived on salads, veggie burgers, dips and raw vegetables, grains that can be cooked with water from the kettle. I can’t remember the last time I made pasta, soup or a curry. We have a little rain for the first time in nearly four weeks and my thirsty plants gulp it down.

The hard cantaloupe melon we bought yesterday, barely giving off a fragrance, is already ripe and begins to perfume the house. It is beginning to dip into a smell that is less perfume and more compost heap. I suspect we must eat it today.

melon-philippa-moore

The smell of over-ripe melon will always make think of that last summer in London.

PS: The reason for the photos with captions on them is because a few days later, on 13 July - bizarrely, coinciding with Trump’s visit to London - my phone died and I hadn’t backed up any photos since May. The only way I could access these pics was through Instagram stories!




a guide to london's abandoned railway parkland walk

london-parkland-walk-sign

Tom and I were having a dinner party with our new neighbours (now dear friends) last year and Matt, the husband of the couple, had recently completed the London marathon. I asked him where in the local area he had trained for it. He replied that he often went along a route between Alexandra Palace and Finsbury Park, which was an abandoned railway track. This caught my imagination (and Tom's) immediately! 

But, you know, best-laid plans and all that....but suffice it to say, last weekend when we had an extra day (thank you Bank Holiday) we decided to go for a long walk and finally check out the abandoned railway track. It's one of north London's best-kept secrets and I'd highly recommend doing it if you live in the area.

Londonist has a pretty good guide to the walk, which we used, but I will add my own observations and recommendations below.

First of all, get yourself to Alexandra Palace station and then make the uphill climb through the park to Ally Pally itself. The views really are lovely from up here.

view-from-ally-pally

Then head west down hill, through more of the park, where the trail starts. It's not very well sign posted, so you do need to know where you're going! There are some nice landmarks in this part of the park, including one of the oldest trees in the area - included in an Ordinance Survey in the 1860s. If you keep walking past that, going pretty much straight, until you spot the Little Dinosaurs play centre, then walk a little more past that, veering towards the right, and you're nearly there. Look for a graffitied wall and a long green tunnel, as seen below! Now the adventure begins!

tom-parkland-walk

It's pretty easy to follow this part of the walk, it goes through Muswell Hill and there are a few information boards along the way, showing you what was meant to be the railway:

We walked from Alexandra Palace along the - line to Highgate, and then from Highgate along the - line to Finsbury Park.

We walked from Alexandra Palace along the - line to Highgate, and then from Highgate along the - line to Finsbury Park.

Once you hit Highgate, it gets a little confusing - because the most direct route is to go via the road to Highgate, but we wanted to keep going through the woods. Again, not brilliantly signposted but we walked some of the way through Highgate Woods, sticking to the Eastern path. Follow this for a while, then look for a gap in the fence near the keeper's lodge to take you out on to the street, then cross the road into Queen's Wood to continue the walk. 

queens-wood

I really enjoyed Queen's Wood, it is a lovely ancient parkland and you could probably spend all day exploring here (it's 52 acres!). There's a diverse range of plants, trees and wildlife. I was quite taken with the frog pool (but spotted no frogs!).  

bittersweet-nightshade

To continue on the Parkland (south) walk, follow the Capital Ring signs, which take you off to the right. You'll come out at a road called Queenswood Road - now, you can cross the road and keep going through the park but we weren't sure, so we came off here. If you do this too, go right up the hill and follow this road along, going past some very nice houses (!),  until it eventually becomes Wood Lane and you come out on the A1, Archway Road. Go left down Archway Road, turn left at the Boogaloo Pub down Holmesdale Road and you'll see parkland on the left and where the walk starts again.

It's worth taking a very quick diversion to your left, just a couple of hundred metres, where you'll see disused train tunnels that have been turned into London's only bat sanctuary! 

The bat cave!

The bat cave!

parkland-walk-sign

Then you head off down the track, which is much more defined than you've experienced so far! And it's pretty much a straight line all the way to Finsbury Park from here. 

I found it such a peaceful walk, even though there were other people around - mostly runners and fellow walkers, the occasional cyclist. It does appear to be a well kept local secret. The parkland has grown almost wild over the abandoned planned railway structures, making it quite beautiful….like living, abstract art, in a way. Take your camera, as there's something to catch your eye at nearly every turn on this walk. These were our favourites:

Remains of abandoned train platforms!

Remains of abandoned train platforms!

Arty arches!

Arty arches!

Goblin! Keep an eye out for this guy. It was amazing how many people walked right by him, or only noticed because we were taking pictures.

Goblin! Keep an eye out for this guy. It was amazing how many people walked right by him, or only noticed because we were taking pictures.

Plant art!

Plant art!

We finally got to Finsbury Park and the heavens opened, so we ended up back on a bus to Hornsey - which was on our way home - where we went for a little stroll and found ourselves in the Great Northern Railway Tavern for a much-deserved cold beer! 

summer-fruit-hornsey
beer
phil-with-beer

For more on the Parkland Walk, you can visit the Friends of Parkland Walk website. Also check out Londonist for all the other walks in London they've done and recommend!