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Today's Lunchtime Meanderings
Sep. 13th, 2007 01:22 pmWhen I'm in the Victoria office, I usually walk to Victoria Place for lunch (jacket potato). Today's walk was not without interest.
First, after getting some cash, I walked down Chester Street towards Victoria. A woman, about 35 years old, stick-thin, was locking her front door while her (driver/butler?) was loading a suitcase into her car. A woman of a certain age was walking by, and I heard this exchange:
Woman of a Certain Age (WCA): Good morning, dear. Are you going any place nice?
Stick-thin woman: St. Tropez.
WCA: Oh, that's lovely.
I was out of earshot by this time, but this is the neighbourhood in which I work.
At Eaton Gardens, there was a drunk sitting on the ground leaning on the fence, bottle at the ready and a puddle of pee a few feet away. Again, this is my work neighbourhood.
At Chester Square, the police guard at Margaret Thatcher's pad was pacing with his rifle. What a job, guarding Margaret Thatcher, Milk-Snatcher. This week's If... comic in thegrauniad G2 resurrects the old battleaxe and it's quite funny.
Yet again, I had to dodge multiple unfortunates with pet suitcases, none of whom had the foggiest idea of their location or destination.
Victoria Place has plasma screens all over. A few weeks ago, they had annoying little blurbs every 30 seconds or so extolling the virtues of eating there if you're hungry, drinking there if you're thirsty, and the like. All these have disappeared. In their place has appeared innumerable music videos. Blurgh. The jacket potato with cottage cheese and chives was exceptionally good this noon--why, I can't tell you. The potato skin wasn't dry and burnt, but moist and lovely.
On the way back I passed a nursery school on Eccleston Street. The teachers/minders/keepers/guards were herding the little dears into the school before turning the darlings over to their childminders for the afternoon. Each child had an electric blue uniform with a white straw boater hat on top. It looked like some surreal midget Swiss Guard troop were going into the school.
London adventures.
First, after getting some cash, I walked down Chester Street towards Victoria. A woman, about 35 years old, stick-thin, was locking her front door while her (driver/butler?) was loading a suitcase into her car. A woman of a certain age was walking by, and I heard this exchange:
Woman of a Certain Age (WCA): Good morning, dear. Are you going any place nice?
Stick-thin woman: St. Tropez.
WCA: Oh, that's lovely.
I was out of earshot by this time, but this is the neighbourhood in which I work.
At Eaton Gardens, there was a drunk sitting on the ground leaning on the fence, bottle at the ready and a puddle of pee a few feet away. Again, this is my work neighbourhood.
At Chester Square, the police guard at Margaret Thatcher's pad was pacing with his rifle. What a job, guarding Margaret Thatcher, Milk-Snatcher. This week's If... comic in thegrauniad G2 resurrects the old battleaxe and it's quite funny.
Yet again, I had to dodge multiple unfortunates with pet suitcases, none of whom had the foggiest idea of their location or destination.
Victoria Place has plasma screens all over. A few weeks ago, they had annoying little blurbs every 30 seconds or so extolling the virtues of eating there if you're hungry, drinking there if you're thirsty, and the like. All these have disappeared. In their place has appeared innumerable music videos. Blurgh. The jacket potato with cottage cheese and chives was exceptionally good this noon--why, I can't tell you. The potato skin wasn't dry and burnt, but moist and lovely.
On the way back I passed a nursery school on Eccleston Street. The teachers/minders/keepers/guards were herding the little dears into the school before turning the darlings over to their childminders for the afternoon. Each child had an electric blue uniform with a white straw boater hat on top. It looked like some surreal midget Swiss Guard troop were going into the school.
London adventures.
