Canonbury
Victorian clocktower and Christ Church Highbury, London N5.
I walked to Angel yesterday. It’s about three miles (4.5km) away. The days at present are my favourite possible winter days: sharp, bright, chilly and lush. It is very, very chilly in fact at the moment and below freezing some nights. Warm coat, scarves and gloves definitely needed. But it is perfect walking weather, which fits in well with getting out and about in the New Year.
On the way is this lovely Victorian clocktower in Highbury, which I’ve been meaning to photograph for some time (and I want to put more of my photos on this blog). Further on, and hidden behind the bustle of Upper Street, is the district of Canonbury.
Canonbury is quiet, serene and Georgian. Low winter light filters through the tree-lined streets. It is the kind of area Hercule Poirot would be visiting only to find himself with a winter mystery on his hands. A lot of Canonbury looks like this and it’s beautiful to stroll through.
At Angel, I did reasonably mundane shopping (buying a tablecloth in the sales, that kind of thing) and got the bus back home. A brilliant, refreshing, unhurried walk.
This has been one of my busiest Christmases in some years: December was more or less a round of theatre, dinners out, dinners at friends’ houses, dinners at mine, work-related socialising, shopping and spending. Long may it continue (although probably not in January when things are quieter and leaner). There was also the weather to deal with. The snow in London wasn’t quite Deep and Crisp and Even, but what there was turned to ice that hung around for at least a week (and saw your correspondent slip over three times). The journey to my parents’ home in the Midlands (where the snow was Deep and Crisp and Even) was the prettiest Christmas train journey I’ve ever made.
In Canonbury yesterday, the real Christmas trees were sensibly placed outside front doors, ready for Islington Council’s recycling vans on the Monday. No surer sign that Christmas is over. All the food, fruits of the season, colour, expectation, socialising and the great fat wintry-ness of it all is gone. And that’s always a pity.
