Monday, 16 April, 2018
Today, forty-five years ago (Yes! I mean Noooooo!) I was married. It was a very blustery, cool Toronto day.
There were two friends on my side, and two on John’s, at the city hall ceremony. I don’t want to say too much about it – the wedding or the dinner afterwards, or the party we threw for our friends, or the aftermath – but I do think about it every year and go over the day and the years that followed.
Back to the present.
I’m listless. I want to do something, go somewhere, although I’m unsure what or where. Spring is happening but oh so slowly. My legs hurt. I’m tired. That’s my mood. Right. There.
We did have a nice time out on Friday. We walked along Upper Street and discovered a plaque for Kate Greenaway. To my surprise I remembered that name from my mum’s books of children’s fashion and from other childhood books. She had an instantly recognisable style and it was nice to think she would have walked those same streets.
We walked along Chapel Market as it wound down and at the pub on the corner of Penton Street I discovered a board that was quite funny.
So I investigated. The pub is called The Joker and is a nod to Islington’s most famous resident, Joseph Grimaldi. Grimaldi was a clown – the founder of the modern day clown, in fact. He was certainly the most popular entertainer of his time (1778-1837). The pub has many photos and memorabilia of clowns and also a huge (ten-foot wide) clock (THE clock from Oasis’ ‘Be Here Now’ tour). We didn’t go in but it’s now on my list.
A quick and interesting ride on the 205 bus and we ended up in Brick Lane to have a lunch at Meraz, and to buy some ghee.
My friend Alistair’s wife Julie is Canadian. She grew up in Montreal. I find her fascinating. She’s like a bright and flitting creature with good stories and a strong sense of herself. She arrived in London and wanted to spend an afternoon with me at Victoria Park. I didn’t realise I’d be going back there for soon but the last time I went it was dull and grey and cold. On Saturday it was warm and vibrant. We visited “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” and the mural on The Morpeth Pub, then went to have a picnic.
Sitting near the duck pond, I think about my grandfather fishing in that water, putting mealworms and maggots on his hook, and me feeding the ducks with bits of bread. I wouldn’t say it feels like yesterday but I do close my eyes and imagine us there.
I want to go visit Julie in her Sussex home. Stay tuned.
And I ate the French cheese – not too impressed, I think I left it a week too long. The other cheeses continue to mature, although after piercing the guessed-at blue one I haven’t noticed any new mould growth so we shall see.
