The beauty parlour that closed at the end of last year remains vacant and now Paperchase, that opened in March 2016, has closed too.
The flower stall that opened outside the station earlier this year never got off the ground. I once bought tulips but their hours were too irregular for me to be able to rely on them. It’s hard to say if this is a microcosm of Britain’s high streets or because Transport for London is a difficult landlord. Meanwhile the other outlets around the crossroads flourish: dry cleaner, French cafe, estate agent, butcher, convenience store, newsagent, off licence, chemist, dress shop and Polish cafe. The estate agent’s office was, years ago, a bookmaker and the newsagent now has lockers for Amazon deliveries. Outside the station a stretch is reserved for taxis although I have never seen one parked and only occasionally see Ubers dropping off or picking up passengers using the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow. Its main benefit is in preventing traffic jams at the crossroads. The box junction has helped in that respect too.
On Wednesday I walked from Paddington up the canal to Maida Vale to help dispatch the quarterly journal of the PG Wodehouse Society, Wooster Sauce. This entails sticking address labels on A4 envelopes, sticking stamps on same and finally filling same with Wooster Sauce and any inserts. Postage to UK members is £1.26; a £1.25 and a 1p stamp which is fiddly. There are around a thousand members and it took four of us over five hours. It would have been tedious had it not been for the company and the wide-ranging chat.
This morning is the first day of term for the Ancient World Breakfast Club. Dr David Stuttard is lecturing us on Exekias’ Board Game: Greek vase painters and the mystery of Ajax. Methinks it will appeal more to Jeeves than Bertie.
Pedantic, I know, but the view in the photograph is not of Paddington Basin, which is by St. Mary’s hospital, but of either Browning’s Pool or simply the Regents Canal, depending on which way you’re looking.
I took a guess and hoped that it would be a day when pedants were asleep. Thanks for the correction.
I lived in the Little Venice/Maida Vale borders for 12 years and my local watering hole was The Warwick Castle, just around the corner from Browning’s Basin. My pedantry stems largely from the delight I derived in recognising somewhere I used to live. I’ll rein in this tendency from now on.
I had a pint or two in the Warwick Castle after the PGW session. The music was a bit loud for my liking …
The Warwick Castle is a London rarity in that it’s real locals’ pub and not just a watering hole for through-trade. So, a bit rough and ready. I drank in there for around 12 years. On my first visit I attempted to sit on a bar stool at one end of the bar and was told ‘You can’t sit there mate’. I asked why and was answered with ‘Nobody sits there, that’s Murdered Mel’s seat.’ It remains my one and only encounter with a posthumously awarded honorific seat.
The hotel in question (Reader will suffice) was also the last place JFK stayed in London before the unfortunate incident in Dallas. He had a bed flown over for the duration of his stay because of his chronic back pain. The bed, I believe, is still in use at the hotel.
When in London we stay at Maida Vale, not least for the pleasures of its location, and the walk to Regents Park. The hotel has an interesting history – the birthplace of Alan Turing, and the temporary residence of a Dr Freud.