On Lower Marsh Road

On Lower Marsh Road

The cobbled street is freshly cleaned and the facades are all free of graffiti. There’s no rubbish blowing along in the gutters and I’ve yet to see a dosser. My coffee is excellent; the conversations at the other tables are all about bike rides, exercise regimes and weekends. I could be on any suburban street in West London. But Lower Marsh Road doesn’t look anything like the street I remember from the winter of 1989-90. Continue reading On Lower Marsh Road

Prologue: Baker Street

Morning in London. Under a sky of cerulean blue, Baker Street is awakening. It is early when I climb from the tunnels of the Bakerloo Line, pass beneath the WW2 tiles, clock and Art Deco lettering — Wembly, Harrow, Uxbridge, Amersham — of the concourse archway, and out through the ticket gate with an electronic wrist-flick of my watch. A few commuters are on the go; the pigeons are busy. But it is too early for most people. Even the Knights of the Pavement are still asleep in their newspaper and cardboard castles. I step from the station and out into my first day in England. Continue reading Prologue: Baker Street