Being a vigorous but rather pale Englishman, I tend flush and fluster readily under the crushing inferno that is a British summer. Therefore, when spring comes around and there is an opportunity to walk around the streets ‘sans-chapeau‘, I bask in the glory of it. From March onwards, the plentiful new light seeps in rapidly and suddenly you remember what it is to see trees with zesty bright-green leaves on them again.
As the weather and light is more favorable now, I have found myself living in new part of London that I have yet to explore properly. I moved to South London in dirty old November and no longer have a pathetic screen of winter excuses to hide behind. I must go forth and ramble. Sunday afternoons seem and ideal time for this malarkey. Perhaps even punctuated with a light ale on the way home. Fresh, clean and drafty.
On my most recent excursion, I found an old florist tucked in a back street with a great bit of ‘Stymie‘ typeface on it’s signage. My girlfriend also pointed me in the direction of one of the finest buildings in London – St. Olaf House, which is a splendid art-deco office/warehouse built for the Hays wharf company in 1928. Hidden to the side of Tooley Street, you could easily pass its smooth elegant turrets and startling entrance porch without even knowing it was there. A crime indeed.
But the finest pleasure on my last promenade was easily the cherry, apple and pear tree blossoms. A bumper crop this year.