On the Street Where I Live(d)

Goodbye to the Old Neighborhood

For our last two weeks in London, we’ve moved out of Courtney Street in Islington (Zone 2) and right into the heart of things on Bloomsbury Square (Zone 1). We miss the our nabe (short for neighborhood, Szonyi, who is a busy man often abbreviates words, hence the term “refridge.” But I digress). Our new place is much larger, but also sparsely decorated and used exclusively as a rental. None of the homey touches of Courtney Street such a teletubby stickers on various surfaces or Noddy and Mr. Men dishware. In fact, there’s nothing on the walls here at all and it looks and feels like a 2-star hotel, down to stained carpets and the small sliver of soap and threadbare towels they provide. (Although in fairness, the guy who came by to fix the oven, toaster, lamps and replace the rubbish bin was horrified and promised to shampoo the rugs by tomorrow morning the latest). Still, this new, not so swanky place comes to us at a cost of more than double our rent in Islington. We are across the street from a beautiful sqaure. Our living room is on the third floor, facing west, and we see the sunset on the rooftops of London. Chim chim cheroo. Alas, in the basement of the fancy Victorian place across the street there’s a bowling alley, and the drunken Brits can be quite loud after knocking down some pins and some pints.

Above is a pictorial tribute to the old neighborhood of which we are very fond. (Less fond of the landlords who charged me £20 for damage to a desk that was already beyond hope, and whose immediate trashing of the place made my careful cleaning irrelevant and stocking of the fridge friar-like. Oh well. I am so blessed by having Yvonne stay at my house that I tried to emulate her level of care. )