Dulwich Park, or Why I Love South East London

It's rather pleasing that, while it takes me 30 minutes to get to work in busy ol' London Bridge from my front door of a morning, another 30 minutes' walk in another direction offers me the chance to take photos like this.

Dulwich Park, to the soundtrack of Wicked, really soothed my insomnia/hangover headache yesterday.

Hurrah for home. Hurrah for Peckham Rye.

Look Who's Talking: Tights and Tolstoy

When it comes to picking up a conversation with a stranger on the train, Londoners are a pretty quiet bunch.

So it's with a mixture of surprise and amusement that over the last few months, I seem to have found two sure-fire ways to get a comment from a fellow commuter.

Number one: bright tights. I work in the media. I need to be smartly dressed for people to take me kinda seriously; but make sure there's a creative edginess to what I wear, or noone will remember me, or believe I've ever had a good idea. My bright tight collection consists of yellow, bright blue, and bright red. I've got some purple ones too, but they're less significant. But I have to say, I've lost count of the number of comments I've had from total strangers about my tights.

I remember the first: "Wow, you look great! What a fantastic colour!" I'd paired the blue with a matching blue bag and a black LBD. Mr Old-Enough-To-Be-My-Father blushed after his outburst as if he'd realised all the London-train-no-talk rules he'd just broken. "Great, err... legs!" was another, directed at my yellow tights as I was coming out of Peckham Rye train station, avoiding a boy on a bike. And last week, "I like your bright red tights," said a young suited London wideboy (can I still use that phrase, does anyone know what it means?!) waiting to get on the Jubilee Line.

It really makes me laugh. I hope I've perfected my amused-but-pleased thank yous. Today's hot weather suggests these conversation starters will have to be confined to winter storage for a while later this week...

Number two: As previously mentioned, I've been wading though Anna Karenin for some time now. And never has a book I've been reading sparked so many conversations with strangers.

People really stare at the cover. Twice, lads I've been sitting opposite have tried starting conversations about it. "Err, good book?" was one. Another, realising I was about to get off, and he was about to miss his chance managed to stutter "How's Tolstoy?"

"Not good," I replied, feigning sadness. "I think it's going to end badly..." with a wink. He chuckled. "I think it's going to end badly... yeah... good one..." And he was gone.

And Anna sparked a proper, full-blown chat into swapping first names another night. "John" (they're always called John at the mo) and I talked about Tolstoy, Russian literature, long novels, short novels, murder mysteries, The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, guitar teaching and more. Which is pretty impressive on a 12-ish-minute commute.

Come to think of it, I was wearing my red tights *and* reading Anna Karenin that night. Should've known...

Image from www.painfullyhip.com

Home is Where the Art Is...

Turns out JC and I have actually moved to a thriving arts hub.

If you want art in London, it appears Peckham is where its at.

We might as well have picked Hoxton for our new abode, according to this article from the Evening Standard. And we know, the ES is never wrong.

It's a shame that these new and groovy and upcoming and alarmingly young artits are choosing to showcase the area from Brick Lane, then... (Next week's South East in East Festival is at the Vibe Bar in the Old Truman Brewery.)

Still, nice to know there's good news coming out of SE15 too.

And I do like Tim Burrows' sign off:

Taking in most of the London skyline from the vantage point of the car park roof, punctuated by the Gherkin, Peckham feels a million miles away from all that [meaning the City, Old Street, Curtain Road, Brick Lane et al] – and yet, right at the heart of things.

Moving House: Some Lessons Learnt

1. Never underestimate the power of drawers. They make a room tidy. Without them, despite filling a wardrobe with certain clothes, you'll still essentially be living out of a suitcase. Sadly, I can't afford these, or all my problems would be over. Although my clothes would still be in that suitcase
   

2. In light of the drawers news, pack your some of your more pressing belongings thoughtfully. Otherwise you'll quickly run out of the other kind of drawers and have to unpack everything to find the rest of your clean pants stash.
   

3. Something somewhere will have to be sacrificed to the god of removal companies. This is a universal truth. In our case, it's a couple of bowls. They've vanished into thin air. (Vanished, Lord Percy, not varnished.)
   

4. Sometimes you have to just take cleaning to another level. When this happens, just buy Flash.
   

5. Tights ladder instantly on contact with wooden floors. Who knew?
   

I know there's nothing cultural or city-like here, and I'm sorry. But the final lesson to be learnt is: the moment you know you're likely to be moving, start talking to your broadband provider. Then you won't be marooned, like me, for more than TWO WEEKS without the internet.

April is the Cruellest Month

It's been a long time. And now April's very nearly all over!

Turns out that being a (temporary) manager, looking for a new place to live, plus Easter and a trip to Paris making three 4-day working weeks in a row, it's been hard to find blogging time.

Culture and the City's loss has been VL's, St Pancras', East Dulwich's and the 37's gain. I've spent a lot of time on the bus that ferries a motley crew of south Londoners across a band running from west to east, and east to west between Wandsworth and Peckham Rye this month. A lot.

Ahh, the 37. What can I say. Some key points of interest along that quick-slow route include:

1. Half Moon Lane - is this, I've been wondering, where that fab-sounding Half Moon Theatre, the kids' theatre is located? A little searching has answered my question: sadly not.
2. A Brew Pub - not a term I'd come across before. JC pointed out this means they brew their own. (Could've guessed that really.) Interesting, though, and makes me wonder if The Florence could become part of a larger "London's Brew Pubs" feature. Particularly as after running the idea past the ever-interested(?) (mildly indulgent?) JW and SP who didn't meet it with outright derision.
   
3. Something interesting looking called "Norman House" on the road opposite Brockwell Park, before the bus turns into more the Brixtony area. Must try and look into this further.

But now the process of house buying is well and truly underway, I'm not sure how often we'll need to ride all that way on the 37 any more...

However, with all the friends that remain in and around Brixton and Clapham, I guess it'll continue to be a well-worn route for some time to come...