Words etched in wood. Names linked to views or places by the people who knew them. “For Dad Who Loved The Sea” or “In Honour of the Mayor”. Sometimes there are no words. This is a memorial bench unveiled in 2008. It is for Billie-Jo Jenkins who was murdered in 1997. She was 13.
The dentist’s waiting room. As a child, we sat in what must once have been a pleasing townhouse. Now it was all municapal yellow paint and dour warnings about missed appointments costing time. A much nicer one, private, had a cat called Hubert who lounged as folk with money waited around him. Now back in the NHS there are magazines about very expensive cars to be read. Or Elle Decoration for the ladies.
Just the couple of grand price difference there.
Bikers welcome. Everyone welcome. You’ve been here before even if you’ve never walked through the door of this particular establishment. A range of breakfast options, none of them continental. Straightforward lunchtime food. Toasties. Teas and coffees. A few cakes and snacks. Nothing too fancy but nothing that feels cheap. You’ll come back again even if it’s a different door you walk through.
You’ll have to take my word for it that this blurry mess was actually, at heart, a sweet photo of a loyal dog waiting patiently outside on the street for its owner to come out of the shop.
Behold, the steed. A wheeled steed ready for the deed of traversing not only London (and Surrey) for one-hundred miles of cycling pleasure but, also, une journée en France via an early morning ferry the month before. Those challenges lie ahead. The training starts now. Set the Strava to go and let’s begin.
Shit just got real.