Outside my window the index is a mere three but as I was walking along the South Bank last week I noticed that the index there is twenty-one. The index in question is
the Crane Index, a measure of economic activity. The Barons Court Three consists of one in Hammersmith for a Help for Heroes hospital and two for the LAMDA theatre. There is another measure of economic activity in west London: the cigarette butt index. This measures the number of builders working, usually on basement excavation. My street has a high Ciggie Index. A dog-owning friend tells me that in her part of Fulham she used to pass the time of day with other dog walkers. Times change, now she meets Filipino housekeepers walking their employers’ pooches. (Personally, I’d rather chat with the Filipinos than their employers.) Can you imagine what it’s like in the fashionable purlieus of Chelsea?
In Barons Court we leave stuff out on the pavement for people to take and use. I seldom shift anything; by the time I’m prepared to part with some disintegrating item, discerning totters aren’t interested. In Chelsea it’s a whole new scenario. Last week a brace of pheasants was draped over the railings of a house off the King’s Road for any plucker to take. For the benefit of rural readers, folk who live in Chelsea don’t pluck. They out-source this task to a butcher. The butcher charges more to pluck than the selling price of an oven-ready bird. Unfortunately it’s now close season for scrumping for game in Chelsea but, hey, maybe there’ll be salmon for the taking soon.
You may have noticed that these posts are coming out at 6.00 a.m., an hour earlier than hitherto. This is in response to a request from Vanessa, a self-confessed lark. If you haven’t noticed, you’re probably an owl.
Thanks Christopher, it’s always good to have something from you to read and contemplate before the jolly old sandwich making! Vanessa
Ditto, Vanessa. Always enjoy reading Christopher’s posts; or most of them (!).
I’ve an old school pal whose father was an antiques firearm dealer. They have a country house with a few acres near Broughshane in County Antrim.
Dangerfield (he calls me Belmont) is partial to shooting deer and tells me he conveys the carcasses to his local butcher for carving up.
Actually I’ll encounter him at the Old Campbellian dinner soon.
I have two very (well quite) elegant standard lamps cast out by an old yuppie of Barons Court which are in constant use. I believe his super fashionable and very distinguished architect felt they lowered the tone of his cutting edge kitchen remake.