Le Jardin de Trévise: I have spent many happy hours here. Great food and great company. Lots of lunchtimes with Jean-Paul, Patrice, Irene, Yves, Jean-Louis, Jean Rousel, Zozo, . . .
Here I was introduced to new tastes, wines, apéritifs and digestifs. Here was our friend the waiter, Patrick.
This is where we watched the 1982 World Cup and saw Robson score after 27 seconds against France. This upset the chef so much he couldn’t keep his syrup on straight and poured beer into Mike’s lap.
This is where I had my leaving do after two years at the Banque Nationale de Paris.
I’ve been back since with the children and stayed in the Hôtel Prima across the road.
This is clip taken in 1992 shows the Pitfield Street Library and the remains of the Pitfield Street Baths, Hoxton.
We used to use this library and swim in the pool in the 50s and 60s.
The tiled walls where the old baths had been was a bonus but also a poignant moment for me.
Our Dad used to take us to the Pitfield Baths to swim in the 50s. It was in the days of woollen knitted swimming trunks.
We used to walk from Whitmore School once a week to the Library.
Later on we would stop off at the Pitfield Street Library on the way home from Central Foundation School to do our homework and lines.
This clip is taken from a longer film made while taking a stroll from Liverpool Street Station to the Arsenal ground at Highbury with my daughter.
I hope to release some more clips and add a spoken sound track.
One drunken night in Spitalfields I walked past Tracy Emin on my way to Liverpool Street Station.
I turned and called out “TRACEEE!”.
She looked round and I felt guilty.
“I love all your stuff! I always ‘ave… and you.” I shouted.
She smiled that big beautiful wonky smile of hers and said “Thank you”.
That was the night I learned to love Tracy and all her works.
I’m looking on the bright side: at least we are not waking up to our country invading Iraq as we were under Blair just 11 years ago.
We have a Green MEP in the South West.
The BNP have lost 2 seats.
London does not appear to have been duped.
The people in the Forest of Dean have voted heavily for UKIP but they have been bragging about the purity of their stock since the Romans left.
I went back to work yesterday or I should say I am now in paid employment. It will be good to have coppers to jangle in my pocket but I shall have less time to spend on my blog!
Venus and Adonis by Paolo Veronese (1580)
Venus and Adonis
Venus had been wounded by one of Cupid’s arrows. Before the wound has time to heal she catches sight of Adonis and is infatuated.
Adonis is later killed by a wild boar that has been attacked by his dogs.
Distraught, Venus changes his blood into a flower: the Anemone.
This is where I found L’Abaoud on 28th May 1981: