Walking without a donkey – travels in France

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Walk Paris – Tuileries and the Seine

January 2023

A walk from the Tuileries Gardens (Louvre art gallery end) to the Pont Neuf, along the Seine, and back through the Tuileries Tunnel with art works. I aimed to walk through the tunnel in the other (west-east) direction, but couldn’t find the entrance. Google maps to the rescue! Note that it says ‘Closed’ though at the time of writing that means only to cars and lorries etc.

Come out of the Tuileries Gardens by the end of the Louvre (above) and instead of walking across the zebra crossing to the river, take a right on the same side (the barbed wire towering above you)

‘This is a Revolution’. Above the entrance to the Tuileries Tunnel

Tuileries Tunnel (Tuileries Gardens / Louvre) entrance

Walk along the Seine

The Seine river with the Pont des Arts in the distance. I was looking for some space and a more natural environment after many noisy walks across the city to and from work during the week.

A long row of luminous silver birches lines the River Seine

Look to your left for make-shift homes and art work. Signs indicating historical sites of interest and local history are on the walls too, including the story of the Washerwomen. During the18th century, more than 80 boats would have been moored along the banks of the Seine, each carrying 24 washerwomen (‘a gigantic laundry’). Others built a jetty, illegally, and stationed themselves there to hang out the washing to dry. Eventually the boats were condemned as a hindrance to river traffic, and ‘the smalls’ unseemly to be seen from the Louvre and the Tuileries Palace.

It looks like someone or some people are staying here under the bridge

Tuileries Tunnel

Details:

From the Tuileries Gardens (close to the Louvre art gallery) to half way between the Pont des Arts and the Pont Neuf on the north/right bank
800m long – once you’re in, there’s no escape
10 European street artists
Parallel to the Seine River
Open only to walkers and cyclists
Including Andrea Ravo Mattoni, Hydrane, Lek & Sowat, Bault, Ërell, Madame, Romain Froquet
Artistic direction: Nicolas Laugero Lasserre, with the support of the City of Paris

Text from the @m_a_d_a_m_e (below) ‘De l’obscur au clair ce n’est pas l’œil oui change mais la façon dont on Louvre’ meaning, approximately, ‘from dark to light, it’s not the eye that changes but the way we Louvre.’

The Tuileries Tunnel is a cross between a cold contemporary art gallery and a graffitied tunnel. With all the ambience of the Channel one (linking Dover and Calais), once you are in it you are only reminded of its Parisian location by occasional French texts. Overlaid now with random graffiti, it’s hard to distinguish between the original and later-added work.

Lighting changes colour like switching traffic beacons and affects the frescoes. Beam-me-up blue ones invite you to stand underneath, back to the sides – part interrogatory, part revelatory. Some works stretch along the walls, like the dancing figures or running wild animals, moving and flowing; others decorate with familiar blocks of primary coloured letters or the image of Frida Kahlo. All are constantly interacting with their audience, some concentrating only on running and others defacing them.

There isn’t one theme, though the fight for life and peace features strongly. The art works do not, collectively, tell a story, nor do they offer a message (unlike the Colinton Tunnel or No Birds Land in Edinburgh), though there is immense subtlety in some of them despite the conditions of the walls and the external temperature.

Half way through, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay, but I had to either go back or on. There is a rawness in the air, a sense of disquiet, with none of the cosyness of a National Gallery or safety of a contemporary white box. Certainly there is impermanence – there are no guarantees that what you are witnessing will be there tomorrow.

Link to tourist website page about the Tuileries Tunnel

Nearest public toilets: Tuileries Gardens, Rue de Rivoli / Place des Pyramides entrance.

For a good takeaway try Aki Boulangerie, 16 Rue de Sainte-Anne, 75001 Paris (Japanese take-away meals: those works-of-art-cum-French-pâtisserie (cakes is too pedestrian a description), real delicacies. I had a briquette (I think it was called) sort of deep fried breadcrumbs outside with curried veg inside – delicious).

For the best, simple green tea served in the tiddliest teapot (there’s plenty – quality not quantity) in Paris (so far) try Atelier WM – 45 Rue de Richelieu, 75001 Paris, France

Have you been to the tunnel? What did you think? Please do leave a comment below.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Walking Paris with score #17

4 December 2021

The prompt came from Mathilda and Blake as part of the on-going series 52More. Mathilda walked in Paris and Blake in New York, connecting up in time and through the score – a faded green British Library card with random phrases pasted on it.

Before leaving London I visited the British Library. I forgot my card, though I had my Edinburgh City and National Library of Scotland cards on me.

I bought 3 presents, one for each of my hostesses in France’s capital city, put each in a scarlet paper bag with BL on them, and promptly left them all at St Pancras in my rush to board the Eurostar.

My moment of immediate excitement – the French flag flying above the Gare du Nord

I am here to teach Shiatsu, a form of Japanese / South East Asian bodywork. Shi means fingers, atsu, pressure. These hands spoke to me amongst the industrial units on my walk through Barbes.

On Linda’s table, were feathers in all shapes and sizes, not identical to the ones I have been collecting on my walks since the start of lockdown 1.

I walked on the Petite Ceinture with my friend, Alain. It’s an ex-railway, now used by walkers.

It’s not exactly the subway, but it passes below street level and tunnels are dotted along it, not unlike my Trinity Tunnel on the Edinburgh cycle path.

Shiatsu practitioner and teacher, Alain Tauch

At the Musée Cernuschi, I found more Cranes (I was with them at the National Museum of Scotland a few days ago), symbols of longevity and immortality because they were believed to live for 1000 years. Their feathers were SMALL BITS of beautiful sculpture from the Japanese Edo Period, 1603-1868.

Feathers and birds everywhere in Paris, France

I enjoyed the smile on the face of the qin zither player, an entertainer from the Han period (25-220).

This is the lid (in the form of a mountain) of a funerary object.

Sitting on the highest point, closest to heaven, he has transformed metaphysically, as depicted by his extended head, signalling that the energy of his crown chakra is so developed that he has achieved something akin to enlightenment.

Blake Morris @formerfresnan (twitter) @blakewalks (Insta)

Mathilda @thetravelingtype_ and https://www.wildlyidle.com/

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Charenton-le-Pont to Richard – Lenoir: Paris walk

Charenton-le-Pont to Richard-Lenoir métro 5. 5 kms (Charenton-Ecoles metro, Place du Cardinal Lavigerie, Avenue Jean Jaurés, Rue Claude Decaen, Place Félix Eboué, Rue de Reuilly, Rue Faidherbe, Rue Godefroy Caraignac, Square Saint Aboise, Boulevard Voltaire, 11th arrondissement, Richard-Lenoir métro).

Parc Zoologique de Paris.

I was deposited by my bla bla car from Reims in an area I had never previously visited. I decided to walk T the Maria Canal for my Seiki Shiatsu workshop with Catherine Dompas, but I dawdled so much, I had to ake the tube the rest of the way!

Where people live – I have seen this all over London and Paris recently: more people made homeless by the rich-poor divide.

Circus Big top, Cirque Pinder, glimpsed through the fence.

Wherever you go in Paris there’s something lovely to see amidst the blocks of flats, supermarkets and cafés.

Beautiful sun throwing shadows.

Église de Saint-Esprit.

There is a garden in front of the Saint Aboise Church in memory of the Monks of Tibhirine (Algeria). They were horrifically murdered in their Abbey during the Algerian Civil War. A French film was made about it, Of Gods and Men, was awarded the Grand Prix at Cannes in 2010.

To get to Richard-Lenoir métro from Boulevard Voltaire you take a left and walk through a public gardens with vines and a playpark.

An impressive floral display for the end of October.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Nature pleases – Picardy 4

End of October 2018

Wu Chi – undifferentiated timelessness, the un-manifest aspect of the Tao. In peacock feathers from the garden birds.

I enjoyed teaching an introduction to Chi Gung for a group of Masters students (Greek, Dutch, American) from the Netherlands before I left. Their performances at Thursday’s showcase were stimulating: a two-hander addressing non-binary issues in an appropriately naïve style, and a quirky performed reading reminding me of the toymaker in Copélia.

View from the garden. It was colder in the final days, but I still did T’ai Chi there in the morning sun.

Delicate ivy ‘drawings’ on the wall.

Silver birch bark – surely the origin of the design of camouflage clothing!

Autumn leaf burning by E. I sat and watched the burning embers and the small flames lick as the sky darkened. The fire was still warm in the morning.

The walk back to the station took me past Halloween house decorations, the luminous sumac tree, and a village hall (last time the gate was shut and I couldn’t see in, so this time I crept up and peered in the window – they were all playing cards in there!). Then there were two furry friendly (hungry?) donkeys who I was instructed not to feed, and several people who kindly stopped to offer me a lift, which I declined so I could walk.

Sumac tree.

The WW1 memorial for the dead soldiers, significant given that the topic of my studies is death.

German troops occupied these small villages between 19 14-18. Britain helped out. There are information boards all along the roads of this area of Picardy with photos of these times.

Strips of roots growing across the bottom of the tree.

A whorl of bark.

Flowers found at ground level on the pavement.

Outside the old school is this lovely sundial with the inscription La grive aux raisins (thrush with grapes is a delicacy and also the name of the local newsletter) and on the gate of the village room.

View from the train to Reims.

Another sundial, a giant one in Reims lit up in the night. Cadrans Solaire de la Marne, also connected to WW1 as the River Marne, site of the battles of 1914 and 1918 where the German advancements were halted.

From the back of a toilet door at Le Maryland bar in Reims – not so very respectful of our monarch!

This bar is near the Cathedral and I do not recommend it as it was full of smokers and smoke, and with men making not so-funny remarks. I didn’t feel comfortable there on my own.

Sculpture by Armelle Blary https://armelleblary.com in a window in Reims – inspired by the work of Louise Bouregeois I would guess.

Les bunnies. At the home of Julie Martin who was my bla bla car driver 10 days before and who kindly invited me to stay on my return. Together with her lovely flatmate, Marie, I was cooked two sorts of crêpes which were delicious.

Many thanks to them for their hopitality. Check out their innovate business: Be Vegetal My Friend which offers all sorts of workshops with plants and flowers, plus you can see Julie demonstrating what she does, and go there to get designs for your wedding or event.

Julie Martin, Be Vegetal My Freind, in her element!

Reims Tourist Information

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Quiet moments – Picardy 3

Nearing the end of October, Northern France

Yesterday I lay down on my back to do my exercises under a tree with my eyes closed. I was focusing on my breath and muscles, moving through my paces. I opened them on hearing a tweet and there, in the spreading branches (don’t they always spread?) and bright leaves, was one, no, two, a whole flock of little birds with long tails bobbing up and down, jutting their tiny heads and flitting fast from place to place. I couldn’t see their backs because I was underneath, but there were hints of pink adding to the brown and beige. They took no notice of me, which was nice.

As I watched, a beastie with many legs crawled up the edge of my arm and onto the top; another one went in and, thankfully, out of my ear; an ant went all round my knee.

When I went to the loo I sprayed soft moss fronds and scratchy bits of autumn twig on the floor!

Later sitting at my desk, writing, the lime greenery was only broken by the odd brown leaf and matching beech nuts opening their hard lips to the air. From the first floor I am half way up where the branches are thinner. It all shivers and sways gently, not much, almost settling, continuing its dialogue with the breeze.

Shadows on my bedroom wall from that same tree outside, like an old sepia shot.

This morning I stood beside another one to do my T’ai Chi. Just as I got to move 134 I found myself back at thirty something so I completed almost a whole second round (140 in total). I got slower and slower. In the fog I saw the tips of my fingers, covered in fine rain, shift in my peripheral vision and I felt myself sink a little.

A bit sun bleached, this photo, but it shows the thin horizontals between branches. I’ve not noticed them before.

It’s trunk was very quiet, half in, half out of the ground. I couldn’t see it move although I knew it was, inside. It stood there before I got here of course, and stands there now. I tried to emulate it. I thought of the tree, being in all weathers; watching people, animals and insects coming and going over the years. The wind rustled it. Then did the same to my hair. I stood, learning.

Then I stood still, ‘standing like a tree’ (it’s a chi gung exercise). It was lighter now (approaching 7am). I enjoyed it.

First in shoulder stand and then bottom in the air – the world looked lovely even upside down looking between my legs.

After I gave Shiatsu to a wood worker this morning, I left him on the mat and walked to the window. High on the second floor I was level with the top of the tree and there was a woodpecker. No, really. Right there. Black and white all down its back with a red top knot and knickers. The window was closed, but I saw it noiselessly tapping inbetween tilting its head to the right as if looking to see if anyone was coming.

When I looked back into the room and asked how L was doing, he said “floating” and then there was a wait. From inside himself with his eyes tight shut he added, “my body’s fizzing”.

I didn’t try to take a photo of the woodpecker in case I disturbed it. However this little critter, a ladybird, was on my last piece of apple (from the tree in the garden) when I came back in.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

The convent

October 2018 Picardy, France.

I sit and work in the garden and the hot sun heats my lower back beautifully. I tan.

A peacock feather.

I look up as something thuds. An apple lies beside me. As I watch, whisper of a leaf; an acorn drops. Fruits still red and ripening.

Giving one Shiatsu per day for the community.

St Joan of Arc – one of the luminous stained glass windows of the chapel.

J makes dumplings – there is always lots of kitchen activity: fuels the brain!

E collected ceps and more in the woods for sharing.

I took a walk to the Intermarché/ supermarket on a sunny Sunday.

School and graf / graffiti.

On first sight I always think this means ‘no singing in public’!

Pumpkins (above) and the last tomatoes (they are sweet as sweet).

The garden is the best place for writing. The light is inspiring. I caught myself thinking, ‘With this beauty and peacefulness I don’t need to eat’!

The slightly weird grottoes showing above the trees, which catch the morning rays.

Evening walks.

After my tour, I sat in the garden as the sky darkened and the moon brightened. The last of the sun illuminated the tops of the birches and their tiny leaves flickered in the wind. The cyprus stood steady, turning a black silhouette before the rest. I watched a plane go past a star – that’s what it looked like.

Then an owl hooted: sometimes singly, followed by silence, then four in a row. Baby blue clouds appeared and a gauze of them passed in front of the orb which altered the light on the lawn.

The sound in the trees kidded my body into thinking it was colder than it was. Still, I pulled my hood over my hat, poked my thumbs through the holes in my sleeves and wormed one hand up the opposite arm. The chickens had been put to bed I realised, and there was no sign of the peacocks. A dog barked. The church bell tolled. I recognised a halloween sky but minus the bats! And I knew there was revellry going on indoors.

The Piano Concerto No. 21, 2nd Movement “Andante” by Mozart plays over and over in my head. I get down to the next chapter.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Grand Randonnée 12 – Sentier Albert Maître

I leave my accommodation to explore the surrounding countryside.

As I make my way uphill, I immediately come across bamboo in a local garden.

Bamboo grows in many parts of China and I practice Chinese medicine so I have an affinity with it.

A wonderful range of trees awaits me on this walk: oak and the resounding pop of acorns under foot; they make a lower note than the beech nuts which have more of a scrunch when I walk across them.

Not far on I find a cross reminding me of my Spanish caminos.

Oh the Autumn colours please me! As this is farmland, there are sheep, and further along the way, horses too.

With a lot of space to wander and feed. They aren’t fazed by me at all.

One matching chestnut, one dappled grey and one white. I wonder again, do horses (and cows) communicate with each other? Do they vary their behaviour at different times of the day? ‘It’s getting dark guys, let’s have one more meal and then lie down for the night!’

Here are the wide open arable fields where huge spreaders are spraying (just like Kent!). There are almost no flowers or birds as a result of the chemicals. These are recently sown and ploughed fields.

I follow the sign posts and there are also familiar neon arrows at ground level to keep me right – pointers for a run or cross-country cycling no doubt.

I remember the red and white stripes of the French walks I made in Normandy, but as always the entrances and exits for walkers are unusual.

This one was a sort of turnstile of oxydised metal.

I tread quietly. Once I enter the woods, the leaves are falling randomly around me and there is a sweet autumnal leafy smell.

Saw-edged sweet chestnut leaves litter the way, bronze and tan.

Ash and sycamore, acorns in cups, chestnuts in their prickly cases.

There are no fuchsias here like in Ireland, the hedgerows are instead bountiful with clematis, their furry seed heads studded with dark brown cores.

A tweet here and there; a rustling up high; and chirp chirp as a bird darts past.

I pick my way over sandy white soil, and admire the whispy grasses.

Laden with ruddy apples, on a carpet of windfalls.

Downhill, past domestic vines, beehives and allotments with bright flowers, I discover Saint Thomas.

The mairie, town hall

Village church

Ceramic flowers on a grave

By the end of the day, the effects of the sun as she brightens the wall and path shining low now behind a telegraph pole or street light so a shadow is thrown.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Picardy, France

17th October – Reims to Saint Erme

I am in Champagne country, in Picardy. I took the train from Reims.

The driver waited patiently

The countryside looked amazing through the train window – flat, on into the distance, great expanses of single colours.

I visited the Artisan Baker and then left my rucksack under a tree as the Intermarché was in the opposite direction and I was tired.

I set off with the additional weight of shopping (root veg and cheese) and the first place of note I passed was the library – so surprising to see one in this small but well resourced village. The three women greeted me effusively and showed me around, asking me questions, instructing me on how to use it and proudly showing their collection of English books. Marie T was just leaving, she said, and offered me a most welcome lift, telling me her incredibly sad personal family ‘death’ story on the way. She said that volunteering at the library had been her lifeline and now she was living again.

I am staying in a old convent (where nuns are or were is always a good place for me). It was used as a prison and a hospital in the past by the Americans and the Gestapo so it has a chequered history.

The walled garden is by far the best bit

18th October 2018

In need of redecoration but charming and clean

Early the first morning, the cockerel (that’s him above, all white and fluffy) asks us why we are not outside yet. He is right, it is a gloriously sunny morning. I found a spot between four silver birch trees for t’ai chi.

Later I was greeted by Johnny the gardener and able to keep practicing my French. Everyone is really friendly.

The hives are not producing honey but they have a local source.
Spiralling up to a pool of sunshine I sit and soak it up, starting my writing.

L from New Zealand crouches in a grotto – he wears nail varnish and makes both art as well as shelves – his contribution to the community.

I move as the sun goes behind trees, finding new spots.

Collecting windfalls – brown, yellow and red; prising walnuts from their damp black coats; snapping hazel shells for a breakfast from the garden.

Someone has made apple cake and roasted some chestnuts which I add to my banquet.

We drink tea and eat homemade cakes during the English conversation group that evening. I learn about some of the local people, their jobs, travels and families. We have a laugh.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Reims

Mid October 2018

Leaving busy, noisy Paris from Nation

One and a half hours from Paris Nation by Bla Bla Car, Reims is in champagne country. Not far from the Belgian border, it is just north of the Wildlife Parc Naturel Régional de la Montagne de Reims, west of Metz and south of Lille.

Reims train station

I visited for part of a day and there is undoubtedly more to see. Julie, my driver, deposited me at the Gare / station (there are 2 entrances) and as we bade each other goodbye she kindly invited me to stay with her in a week’s time – she is a couch surfing host.

Very smart looking trams stop here too

Opposite the front of the station is a park, Square Colbert, which was completely closed for landscaping, and beyond that, along the Boulevard du Général Leclerc, are the posh hotels. At right angles is Place Drouet d’Erlon, along which you will find eating places galore.

And the magnificent Fontaine Subé, statue and fountain

I unfortunately chose poorly (I wanted a place in the sun and a chèvre / goats cheese salad). I do not recommend Café Le Gaulois – the food was very poor quality and over priced.

However, I did enjoy my kir!

The Catholic Église Saint-Jacques (Church of the patron Saint of the caminos (walking pathways, les chemins) in Spain (the one who gave Santiago de Compostella its name).

A beautifully simple façade

I found the Musée des Beaux-Arts quite by chance.

The black figurative sculptures look like shadows along the wall, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Reims

This is the garden a the back of the Musée des Beaux-Arts

The next stop had to be the cathedral, stunning against the blue sky.

Wonderful Gothic architecture of the Notre Dame de Reims cathedral. The place where 30 Kings of France were crowned.

Outer detail – angels

And inside, two of the spectacular stained glass windows, cathedral, Reims

The Basilica Saint Rémi is well worth seeing. This plaque is on the ground of the cathedral

Round the side of the cathedral the Carnegie Library can be found.

Art Déco entrance to the Carnegie Library

Foyer light, Carnegie Library, Reims

Detail – tiles showing a patient having his back examined, Carnegie Library, Reims

Window of the Reading Room showing books, Carnegie Library, Reims

I passed the Opéra, the opera house on my way back to the station.

The Opéra is also an example of Art Déco design

The Opéra seen from the front with Tragédie and Comédie at either end, and famous French composers inbetween

Someone has put up a bunch of dried flowers in memory of the ‘Martyrs of the French Resistance’

Grass is grown between the tramways – a good idea for Edinburgh?

I saw this on the window of the Tourist Information as well as here, at the door of the station, Reims

Reims Tourist Information

Reims Cathedral

Opéra de Reims

Carnegie Library, Reims

Musée des Beaux-arts, Reims

Bla Bla Car car sharing website – more ecological and cheaper than public transport – takes a bit of getting used to, but a great way to meet people

Couch surfing a worldwide website for people who offer a bed or couch to travellers. No money changes hands, but you are expected to offer something – to cook a meal or, in my case, give a Shiatsu.

Tip: Mary of Guise, mother of Mary Queen of Scots is buried at the Convent of Saint Pierre les Dames in Reims

1 Avenue Georges Hodin, 51100 Reims, France

Walking without a donkey - travels in England, Walking without a donkey - travels in France

London and Paris – Green spaces

Camley Street Natural Park; St Pancreas Parish church and gardens; and Goldington Crescent Gardens, Camden London.

The entrance to Pitzhanger Manor (being restored – it opens in 2018) and an expansive patch of free – Pitzhanger Park, Ealing, London.

As I wander through European cities I find myself attracted time and again to the green spaces. Indeed, a few days ago, I traversed most of Paris from the Bois de Boulogne in the far east, to the Pont Bercy, and what a beautiful walk it was.

Today, I arrived off the Eurostar at St Pancreas London, weary in body and of spirit, but the sun shone, so I googled parks and gardens in the area. I made my way to the St Pancreas gardens, narrowly avoiding being run over by a London taxi due to the lack of pavement, and came across a community garden I had tried to enter twice before, Camley Street Natural Park – this time it was open.

A slice of sylvan pleasure between railway, canal, and high rise buildings, I discovered that this London Wildlife Trust-funded oasis is an ideal place to picnic. Flower beds are constructed from railway sleepers and hunks of stone and bordered pathways are lined with bark pieces.

There is an extensive pond with a green membrane pierced by rushes, and a wild flower meadow with rose bay willow herb. It constitutes a very brief, windy way to the other side if you use it, as many suit-clad workers obviously do, as a thoroughfare; but you may also make a circuit and take in the bug-finding, log-pile place; the ‘fairy glade’ (where if I was not mistaken a counselling session was happening); and pond-dipping where a quiet volunteer was carefully cleaning the sign.

There are rustic benches in private nooks, and, luckily, a few tables in the cafe clearing because it was so densely wooded that there was almost no sun there this September noon.

Bring your little ones and they will have hours of down-to-earth fun – inside if the weather is inclement (there is an activities room and exhibition with nests and pine cones) or out, learning about bats and birds, recycling and natural landscaping. I saw willow, birch, brambles and cherry, and there were tourists in the Visitor Centre being helped by the member of staff.

This old coal yard is located by the waterway which once transported the fuel to Yorkshire, where incidentally the next-door sliver of a bridge was formed before being placed in its current position in 2016. Unlike the uneven Park’s paths which absorb any sound (do not try with buggies, bikes nor suitcases), the bridge’s smooth surface resonates with and amplifies joggers’ footfall and cycle wheels.

Just down the road is the St Pancreas old church and gardens, today shining in the sunlight and showing off its higgledy-piggleddy stones, working mortuary, royal blue water fountain (at least I think that is what it is), and unusual monument “especially dedicated to the memory of those whose graves are now unseen or the records of whose names may be …(could not read this word) obliterated”.

They have done a great job of bringing interesting facts and people to our attention in the wee church: the relationship of Thomas Hardy to the ‘consecrated burial ground’, and memorials to Mary Wollenstonecraft, activist, and John Soane, architect of the Bank of England whose main residence is in the area and whose ‘country’ house in Ealing (Pitzhanger Manor, see above) I coincidentally visited last week.

Under the trees sit study groups, lunching pairs and individuals reading or on their phones. What a contrast with the welcome smell of warm wax which filled the holy interior. I enjoyed the plaque ‘in memory of my dear husband Earnest Wiggins d 1975’ before drifting into my third bout of 60 winks sitting on a proud wooden chair at the back listening to the ponderous ticking of an unseen clock.

Making my way towards Mornington Crescent tube station, with its faint hints of Mary Poppins and WW2 popular songs, I come across Goldington Crescent Gardens. In the Autumn sun, causing the fallen leaves to glow and throwing strong olive green and top-hat grey shadows on the grass, there is a public sculpture. It is in three parts: one resembles a silver pile of unmentionable; the second an ant eater with its snout in the ground; and the third is a mystery. The artwork stands out starkly beside the pink and red brick 1903 Goldington Buildings opposite, which edges elegantly wrap around whatever is in its heart. Interesting fact: in Vienna they have a word for these buildings which conceal a space behind the facade, which is ‘Hof’.