bonfire wars

Brilliantly thrilling - and slightly scary - bonfire night here, with one huge impromptu firework display piled up on some sand in the middle of the estate, and then what can only be described as firework wars between large numbers of children/teenagers not only throwing fireworks at each other but picking up thrown fireworks and running around with them.

some joy

Definitely using the weather as an excuse to eat cakes - and where better to go, if you live in North London than Ottolenghis? If you can bear the everyday scrum that is yummy mummies, creative professionals and ladies who lunch. 

christmas!

Surprisingly excited by Christmas this year, although still find it early for the decorations to be up in Oxford and Regent Streets. Trying not to go on about the weather, but the unlit decs - sponsored by marmite - are a symphony in monochrome with the sky.

halloween (not)

Halloween has been and gone, with plenty of dressing up in the usual fashion (cue ghoulish laughter.) My neighbour however - who also comes in the eccentric category - chose to dress up as his former self, a teddy boy. In the original jacket he has had since his twenties. Respect. 

the man who would not move up the bus

Living elsewhere I learnt to copy 'normal' behaviour for crowds, queueing and using public transport (chaotic, pushy, very closely packed yet also quietly supportive in the case of Moscow). But back in London, I find this is bringing out the worse, as my inner grumpy middle-class english woman returns to dominance.

So I cannot believe how unhelpful people are on crowded buses and trains. I am one of those who bossily asks people to move up (which I now notice has been turned into a recorded public announcement on the buses, since drivers clearly hate to actually talk to their passengers.)

So, here is a bit of naming and shaming for the man who stood resolutely blocking the - relatively empty - back of the bus; thereby ignoring the morning rush-hour crowds stuck outside in the drizzle, as we went from stop to stop without letting anyone on.

grey grey grey

I knew I would find English weather the hardest thing to get used to, now I am back. Another completely monochrome grey sky all day, with that milky light that makes you feel your eyesight is going.

Oh, and of course, matching fine drizzle. (There should be another word besides drizzle for this kind of rain; so fine as to be almost non-existent and yet penetratingly wet. A friend says that in Turkey they call it fool's sprinkler...)

eccentric?

There is also a very mixed bag of people living here, as with anywhere in london, where areas seem to have their distinct personalities, but nevertheless remain (mainly) incredibly diverse. So, I have been assuming that the occupant of this flat with the vibrantly decorated balcony is a bit - eccentric.

But maybe they are merely attempting ever more extreme measures against squirrel invasion ...

community (sort of)

This estate is almost laughably communal (for those who want it). I can't walk to the shops without talking to someone I know and benefit from, as well as aim to provide, a lot of informal helping out. Plus, a community hall, a recently completed history project, a gardening club, a newly built playground, pensioner visits to the seaside and - most recently, a Funday Sunday where the local Lib Dem councillor cooked the hamburgers (well, he would, wouldn't he).

Of course, this doesn't mean we all get on. 'Community' is a much more complicated thing than that, as much about conflict as sweetness and light, with plenty of tensions between old and young, middle and working class, tenants and leaseholders. I, for one, would be happy to belt the kid who I just caught trying to steal my bike by attempting to cut through a thick metal chain with  a blunt knife. But, still, its nice this feeling of connectedness.

animal kingdom

The bit of North London I live in seems to be increasingly overrun by animals and birds. It is a large 1950s modernist public housing estate, built in amongst mature trees and grounds left over from the oversized, crumbling Edwardian mansion blocks which were knocked down to construct it. So very green and lush, and a haven for wild (and not so wild) life.  Pigeons take over any unoccupied balcony and crows shout happily all day from the trees. Also rooks, magpies, jays, woodpeckers and - occasionally -parakeets. Meanwhile foxes patrol unbothered at night-time. But the biggest contenders for a complete takeover are the grey squirrels. They are looking sleek and plump at this time of year, having helped themselves to flowers and fruit during the summer, and are now stuffing their cheeks with carefully peeled horse chestnuts.

I have resorted to a water pistol in a - losing - campaign against squirrels who shin up the communal digital cables to my third floor balcony and have been helping themselves to my apples, strawberries, rasberries, tomatoes and aubergines (I got a bit over-excited about veg-growing on my balcony again, something I was unable to do abroad). Now the produce is almost over, they come just to bury stuff instead.

So, any advice on keeping squirrels away, without actually killing them (which is tempting), would be welcome.

autumnal

Have been trying to catch something about English autumn in the city in a single photograph; that simultaneously warm and chilly damp, the bonfire misty smell of the air, the watery quality of light, the browning and reddening, and the increasing monochrome skies. Really missed autumn when I was away; I have been schluffing through the dry leaves and polishing conkers on my sleeve like a small and happy child.