London Lives

For it was written that There Must Be Hares at the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition. It’s the law. These are by the late Barry Flanagan RA and are wonderful.

Lots of splendid stuff as usual (the Weston Rooms are my favourite; packed with smaller pictures of all kinds). Familiar favourites were there too (Bill Jacklin and Ken Howard), along with loads of new people to look up. In one of the main rooms, David Mach RA exhibited a piece called Silver Streak: a fabulous gorilla made of wire coat hangers. Stunning and clever.

Afterwards I wandered through Shepherd Market, a smart little enclave of restaurants in Mayfair. The area was still waking up at 12.30. These shabby old buildings (below) are nearby. An amazing contrast.

Later, I walked from Maida Vale to Paddington. Not in a very ordered or direct way, but along streets of mansion blocks overlooking Paddington Recreation Ground and others with semi-detached houses and smart cars outside. There was almost no one about. I’ve said this before, but sometimes London’s silence is astounding. It was like a silent suburban street from another time.

Back in Paddington, I ambled around some streets getting background for my novel. It’s not enough to look at maps on the internet or wade through archives (useful those these are). It’s important to walk it and to feel it. My brother said recently that I was having a big love affair with London. He’s right.

As we move into the Bank Holiday, it became clear today that vast swathes of London’s population seems to be (a) away from London, or (b) at the Carnival. The bus slipped steadily around near-empty streets as it moved from the Edgware Road and into Paddington. No chance to glimpse Bayswater today, as the bus was diverted before then, to tuck down other roads away from the Carnival.

It’s one of my favourite areas of London, the slightly faded glamour of Paddington seeping into the whitewashed houses of Bayswater. But even here, there is an element of transition and griminess in the streets of little hotels. From here, it’s possible to explore Ladbroke Grove, or continue on to W9 and Maida Vale.

But today it was to Fulham and then Chelsea, looking for nick-nacks and cookware. Once, when I was standing outside Peter Jones on Sloane Square, a man walked past me with four Great Danes. It was like a cacophony of legs; impossible to tell where one Dane ended and another began.