Yesterday (Sunday) I got up as early as usual and the forecast was that anything could happen in the south-east and it was best not to travel. I feel so stupid even admitting that I took all these naggings seriously - they are always wrong - but hurrah I did leave home as planned, except I was dressed for a possible all-nighter on a bench in London.
Good thing too. Anyone on yesterday's 8-55am to London Waterloo will know that the heating was kapput and it was as cold inside as outside - and outside was a beautiful hard frost in a pea soup of invisibility, the passing countryside so unphotographically beautiful.
I had a thin pair of socks and then another thin pair of socks. Then, likewise, two thick pairs of socks. Around these I had my snowboots - their first outing this winter. Snowboots have been a total revolution to me - I admit that until a few years ago I never knew such things were so vital. They're black and big and fluffy and look naff in an Uggsy way but they have saved my life several times because they have a magic soul (sole) that grips onto the planet ignoring all ice and snow and other banana skins.
I don't know what their secret is, how they do it, but you can walk around on icy mornings without a care in the day. Above these I wore two pairs of long-johns. Yes I am a fan of these things. And over these I wore a thick pair of sensible trousers. Above the waist I wore a short-sleeved Primark t-shirt - Primark t-shirts and Asda socks are the only new clothing I ever buy new. Over this I wore a Primark long-sleeve t-shirt. And another one. Then a thin crew-neck jumper. I only EVER wear 100% wool jumpers. Then a thicker crew-neck jumper. Then a beautiful ultra-soft cardigan-hoodie - one of my most important possessions.
I am the sort of person who repairs their clothes, and this has been almost entirely reknitted by me in my efforts to make it outlive me. Then I wore a loose-knit crew-neck thick jumper. Than a thick beautiful Aran jumper. As a back-up - though I never needed to wear it - I also took with me my favourite lightweight mac.
Two woolly hats - the hoodie-hood going over the two hats. Of course. It would look ludicrous any other way. In this fashion I was the warmest arrivee at Waterloo station. I walked up Regent St and past the old BBC building and up thru Regents Park and this time had enough time to really get to grips with Camden. It is years/decades since I've had a really proper mooch there and I was expecting it to be a shadow of its former etc. But no. It was as abuzz as in the movies. Of course absolutely nothing whatsoever that I'd even consider buying or eating. Total crap.
I always buy lunch at the John Lewis foodhall by Cavendish Square. And then the concert at Wigmore Hall - English songs by many women and some men, with piano and violin. The female singer was slightly underpowered, I felt. The male singer was very fat. He wore a scruffy black t-shirt, a bright red waistcoat, a scruffy cheap bank-clerky blazer, the kind of short long trousers that fat men so often wear because they can't see just how short they are. Black riding boots. With his shaven head and his bright red beard he was quite a sight. I rather took to him.
It was a 3pm concert, so when I stepped out on to Wigmore St afterwards it was already quite dark. But there was no snow. In fact I felt quite warm. Not surprising. I'd been sweating royally during the concert, even with my hoodie-hood down.
But I think that is the end of my adventures for this year. Oh I shall leave the house again of course. But perhaps no more trains. My favourite ex was spending the weekend down with friends in Exeter and she says that her train down there was delayed by a broken rail, and on the return journey she had to get out at some godforsaken station and watch a steam train pass - I swear this is true - or at least I swear this is what she said, and I know her well enough to believe her.
My own train from Waterloo was also quite disastrous. Anyone catching the 6-05pm train yesterday will know that instead of it having ten carriages it just had five, and about a third of us stood up. I did for a while. My eye caught flashes of red further down my carriage, carriage #4 - it was the male singer, standing also, not needing a coat, London always being warmer than she ever admits - we caught each other's eye from time to time, and smiled - it's probably unhumble of me to say that I think he recognised me - I'd been sitting in the front row at Wigmore Hall, in all my clothes and hats. It's not often that another musician acknowledges me, but yesterday I think was one of those rare days, and I think it's a good way to end the year, it would ruin my outsider underground cred if it happened again.
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recorded today, photo the garage on the corner of Mount St and Park Lane yesterday evening
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