It’s another chilly day today but at least it’s not raining. Let’s be grateful for small mercies.

Ghost sign?
Photo by Tigger

As we made our way down Pentonville Road, Tigger thought to see a hitherto unnoticed feature on one of the houses. My eyes were not able to make it out and even looking at the photo, I’m not sure. The feature in question is a slight darkening of a group of bricks. It is to the left of the leftmost first-floor window, slightly to the left above the red front door. Can you make it out?

It could be the eroded remains of a rectangle of black paint, exactly what survives on many of the houses around here, those that are at the beginning of a row. The black paint was the base on which the street name was painted. Though many have been replaced by modern metal or even plastic name plates, a few survive in various states of preservation. Could this once have been a sign showing the name of the street?

Open but empty

We went by the path that runs close beside the Angel Building on the corner of Pentonville Road with St John Street. It’s an office block and in “normal” times is full of people. Today, although the doors were open, it looked deserted – a symbol of our time, I suppose. I do know that some employees, given the choice of working from home or going to the office, prefer the latter though there could have been but few in there today.

Cake shop window

Next to the office entrance is the Hummingbird Bakery. Despite its name, it’s really a cake shop. It was closed though, as a purveyor of food, I imagine they could have opened. What caught my attention was this sparkly window display. In the centre of each was a decorated cup cake – whether real ones or models, I don’t know.

The Gym London Angel

Next to the Hummingbird in the same building is the Gym. I found this slogan on the door rather ironic now that the place, like all of its kind, is closed. This was no doubt put up when restrictions were eased for a while and it has been left perhaps in the hope that those times will return. Equally ironic, a sign on an adjacent window reads “Welcome Back”.

Graffiti van

As the traffic on the nearby road slowed at the lights, I noticed this graffiti decorated van. The first “graffiti van” I ever saw was on one of our trips to Paris. Since then, the habit has spread. This is not a particularly interesting example but I have seen some very good ones. Good or bad, they always evoke in my mind happy memories of that trip to Paris.

Door still devorated

In the run-up to Christmas, I photographed this shop and its festive decorations (see, for example, It’s cold and damp but…). Most seasonal decorations have gone now but this shop still has its door tied up like a Christmas present. Have its owners given up hope of ever opening again?

Flat-screen TV dumped

Do you need or want a flat-screen TV? If so, hurry along to Chadwell Street without delay because if you don’t grab it, someone else will. I have remarked before on the tradition in this neighbourhood of leaving unwanted items in the street for anyone to take. It works too: even faulty items disappear, no doubt to be repaired and sold on. You might call it a “Neighbourhood Recycling” scheme.

Sun shining through clouds

I took this photo in the hope of showing the pleasant glow of the sun through clouds. It didn’t quite work out (don’t say I don’t give you my failures as well as my successes 🙂 ) but it does at least show off the marvellous tracery of the winter-bare trees. In my book, that’s a win!

Myddelton Square Gardens

For a change, we crossed through the central garden of Myddelton Square, once the churchyard of St Mark’s. It was quiet with just one bench occupied, unlike the first lockdown when it was much busier. Those times will no doubt return with the warmer weather and as general vaccination begins to lift us out of our current slough of despond.

Sun shining through clouds

Another attempt to capture the sight of the sun shining through the clouds and making the scene feel that much more cheerful (“If at first you don’t succeed…” 🙂 ). Guess where we were heading?

Myddelton’s deli

Yes, of course, to Myddelton’s for our coffee. We have been seeing rumours in the press that the government is thinking of ordering coffee shops to close, ostensibly on the grounds that people gather outside them, risking transmission of the virus. “Only rumours”, you say. Yes, but some such (government-sponsored?) rumours have turned out to be true. Our hope is that if that does happen, shops like Myddelton’s, as they are food shops, will remain open and still able to provide coffee. We can but hope.

Who’s that in the window
Photo by Tigger

As we made our way home, Tigger spotted something in a window in Claremont Square and took a photo.

The new kitten on the block
Photo by Tigger

It turned out to be a kitten that we had not seen before, a newcomer. Now, I am not accustomed to using words like “sweet”, “adorable” and, worse still, “cute”, but I have to say that I came dangerously close to doing so on this occasion. It was a pretty little thing and made me miss no longer having a cat. I hope we see it again.

Clutching the hot but rapidly cooling coffee, I hurried us the rest of the way home, there to wash our hands for the statutory 20 seconds and at last drink our treasured brew. Cheers!

Our domestic fuel, by which I mean electricity and gas, is supplied along the same system of cables and pipes as everyone else’s. The only difference between us and, say, our next door neighbour, is in who sends us our bills.

British readers will be quite conversant with this way of doing things but for others, here is a brief explanation. Some years ago, the government decided to “privatise” a number industries hitherto owned by state monopolies. Among these were the railways, water and domestic fuel. How do you “privatise” the supply of gas and electricity? Well, obviously, you can’t. It would be an absurd proposition for each company to generate its own electricity, for example, and distribute it along its own power lines. Similar arguments apply to gas and water.

What actually happens is that the existing infrastructure continues in use and the rival companies buy the electricity and gas from the suppliers and issue bills to whichever customers take accounts with them.

This is supposed to introduce that familiar shibboleth of capitalist apologists, “competition”. And it works… well, up to a point. It is indeed possible for domestic customers to shop around for the cheapest prices of gas and electricity. This, though, is a bit like looking for treasure in a minefield and is fraught with difficulties.

The approved way to proceed is to submit your annual usage figures (assuming you were clever enough to record them in this era of electronic accounting) and submit them to each company in turn. In response, you will receive a display of the various tariffs available and how much they will cost you. In theory, you then choose the cheapest.

There is a lot more to it than that, of course. You need to take into account such matters as levels of customer service, how well a company deals with errors and disputes, etc. These can only be resolved by studying reviews submitted by customers and reviews, as we know, are often biased. As I said, it’s a minefield.

After considerable research, we plumped for Octopus Energy on the grounds of having read favourable reviews but also, I must admit, because I like octopuses! 🙂

Another phenomenon designed to complicate an already muddled situation is the “smart meter”. It is government policy to replace all “dumb” meters with smart versions. These allow gas and electricity companies to read your meters remotely without sending a human meter reader or asking customers to submit their own readings.

We do not have smart meters and in view of the negative publicity about them, have so far rejected all overtures to have them installed though we know that one day, force majeure will make this inevitable.

Every month, therefore, we receive an email from Octopus asking us to submit our meter readings. Hence the monthly ritual of the title.

Our meters, along with those of the other residents of our building, are sited in a big cupboard in the basement “area” of this Georgian style house. (I have already mentioned the “area” and what it is, e.g. see Damp and cold.)

To read the meters, the essential tool is a large screwdriver. Why? I will explain later. Then I go down the iron steps into the area, which is where the entrance to my downstairs neighbour’s flat is to be found. My neighbour considers the area to be part of his realm and it is rather cluttered, making my task more difficult, but he’s a good egg and so I prefer not to criticise or complain.

The cupboard

Space is limited so these cramped photos don’t give a true impression of things. This is the double door of the meter cupboard. There is no lock and, more to the point, no door handle. The doors are closed by being jammed together. So how do I open them? This where the big screwdriver comes in: I use it to lever the doors apart! The trick is to lever them out and then thump with my fist on the left one. All being well this releases them from their tight embrace and the door springs open.

Meters

This is a partial view inside the meter cupboard. All the meters, for both gas and electricity, are here. Each labelled with the number of the flat to which it belongs.

I used to take a notepad and pen with me to record the readings. Then Tigger suggested I take photos with my phone camera. The only question I have about that is Why didn’t I think of that?!

The electricity meter

The more awkward to reach is the electricity meter because it is high up and on the left. I’m 6′ 5″ (1.96m) tall but I still have to stand on tip-toe and crane my neck to read it… or reach up with my phone and photograph it! Much easier.

The gas meter

The gas meter is low down on the right and easy to see.

Having taken my photos (and checked that they actually show what they are supposed to show), I close the double doors. In damp weather, when the wood tends to swell, even this is difficult and takes a fair amount of pummelling to achieve. I also, out of courtesy, put back in front of the doors the various items left there by my neighbour and which I have had to remove in order open them.

That ends the main adventure. Recording the readings for future reference and entering them into our account online are trivial details.

Octopus works on the basis of debiting your account each month by a fixed amount. Your usage is monitored by means of the meter readings and the monthly amount is from time to time increased or decreased as seems reasonable. The monthly meter reading ritual is therefore likely to be a feature of our lives indefinitely or until we can be inveigled into accepting a smart meter.

Other essential “tools” to take with me are keys to the house door and to our own door. I keep them carefully, even though I leave the doors open for the few minutes this all takes. I learnt that lesson a few years ago when I went outside without keys and the draught slammed the front door! Tigger was at work and none of the other residents responded to me ringing their doorbells. There I was, outside, in my slippers, with no keys or even my phone! I did manage to find a way back inside but this involved climbing on builders’ scaffolding and breaking a window! Not an episode I wish to repeat!