Today is Day One of London’s sojourn in Tier 3. Less onerous than full lockdown (shops, even those selling “non-essential” goods, remain open, but travel is discouraged unless “necessary”), it still imposes limitations on our movements. This bids fair to be one of the strangest Christmases experienced in living memory.

As though in sympathy, it is one of those dark, damp winter days in which Britain excels. Fortunately, I have Tigger’s company to restore my spirits and make me feel more cheerful. In that happy mood we set forth for this afternoon’s perambulation.

A dark, damp day

As Jusaka has been closed for several days running, we didn’t bother trying them again today and, in any case, we needed butter and as Myddelton’s can supply both butter and coffee, thither we went.

Miniature garden

In Claremont Square, this little garden constructed around the base of a tree always intrigues me. Who created it? Was it made by the Council or is it an individual project by a neighbour? I think the latter is more likely, especially as it seems to be well tended.

Wreath and lion

This basement flat has a Christmas wreath on the door but it also has one of my favourites among the neighbourhood’s house decorations: the lion’s head. This area abounds in lions for some reason, from lion-headed door knockers through lions couchant in front of the door to lions on roof-tops. This one sits above the entrance like a guardian and I always look for it when I pass this way.

Lit with fairy lights
(but you can’t see them)

In Cruikshank Street was this most unusual Christmas decoration. This little garden was all a-sparkle with little lights. So pretty (and cheering on a dull day). Unfortunately, they just don’t show up in the photo.

Door knocker letterbox

I mentioned recently (see Letterboxes) how when letterboxes were fitted to the 18th and early 19th-century front doors, they had to compete for space with other furnishings. One solution is represented here: a combined letterbox and door knocker. This one, unusually, is decorated with the figure of a bat. In general bats are not favoured as decor except perhaps, transiently, at Hallowe’en.

Illuminated Christmas tree

Quite a few houses now have illuminated Christmas trees in their front windows, obviously positioned so as to be visible to passers-by. As they are meant to be seen, I don’t feel shy about photographing them! (At other times, discretion prevails and I avoid photographing inside people’s homes without permission.)

Shutters and stars

When they were first built, I think these Georgian style houses had shutters fitted to the windows as standard. Most have been removed but a few still survive and are even still put to use. Here the shutters have been closed and illuminated stars placed between them and the window glass. No chance of impertinently seeing inside this house!

Festoons, wreath and tree

In this house in Great Percy Street, they have gone the whole hog and, in addition to a wreath on the door and an Christmas tree in the window, have put illuminated festoons in the balcony. These folk take Christmas seriously!

Lost cycle helmet

The lost hat in the railings that I showed yesterday had disappeared, either reclaimed or “re-owned”. In Cumberland Gardens we found another piece of lost headgear, this time a cycle helmet. It looks to be in good, nearly new, condition. Has it been accidentally dropped, or perhaps stolen and dumped? We shall never know.

Wreath among the greenery

In this house, they already have a lot of greenery around the door and the wreath is almost lost among the living plants.

Myddelton’s was nearby and there we went next. Here we bought our coffees and our French unsalted butter.

Will we still be able to find this once Brexit kicks in? I rather think that this, and a lot of things that we are used to, will become hard, or even impossible, to find. What is it about the British that they have this strange yen for damaging themselves for no good purpose? Mystère et boule de gomme, as the French might say.

As we left our flat today, we found a bouquet of flowers beside the door. There was a card inside but as we preferred not to delay, I dumped the flowers in the sink, pending our return.

Lost hat

As we turned into Claremont Square, we spied this woollen hat hanging on the railings. How does someone lose a hat? Quite easily, apparently. Better to lose a hat than to lose a head, I suppose.

Reject bath

The discarded door that I mentioned previously (see Letterboxes), has disappeared, I hope to a better place. It’s mantel (so to speak) has been inherited by a bath. You can perhaps see that there is a white cross on the base of the bath: for one brief moment, I had thought that the object was a coffin!

The Curvaceous Tree

I took the opportunity to check on the Curvaceous Tree that I discovered and come to love during the first lockdown. Winter reveals the curious shaping of the branches, hidden in other seasons.

Tiny letterbox

In the above mentioned post, I drew attention to the tiny letterboxes originally installed after the invention of postal services. Most have been replaced but a few still exist. Here is an example spotted today. Note also that this door has, not one, but three locks. They are all modern, a fact that says something about our contemporary world.

(Incidentally, are burglars and housebreakers still at work during the pandemic? Do they remember to wear a mask while inside the property?)

Man on the roof

In Myddelton Square, a movement attracted my attention to the roof of one of the houses. Someone is repairing the roof, presumably. That would not be a job for me: that protective barrier seems awfully flimsy!

Wreath and candy stick

We started to photograph wreaths on front doors but as we approach Christmas, they are proliferating too fast to keep track of them. In this house, there is not only a wreath but also an inflatable candy stick. Since when have candy sticks become a symbol of Christmas? They never were. I think this is another of those wretched foreign imports like Trick or Treat.

Empty gymnasium</em

We passed by the local gymnasium which has big windows allowing a good view of the interior. The place was eerily quiet. In fact, it was empty, presumably closed. (You get a glimpse of me, reflected in the glass. Yes, I forgot to bring the polarising filter with me.)

Not a “stink pipe”?

In Wreaths and a stench pipe, I identified this feature as a “stink/stench pipe”. Since then, this identification has been questioned on the grounds that stink pipes are taller than this and don’t usually have the sort of top that is present here (though I have seen photos of pipes with similar decorative tops). For now, then, the jury is out, unless and until I can obtain positive information as to what this object is. One suggestion is that it is a disused Victorian street lamp.

Decorative base

The base has some decorative motifs but no maker’s name, unfortunately.

A view along City Road

We crossed City Road and I stopped to take a photo of the view. It’s hard to imagine that there was a time when this road passed through open country and travellers were at risk from highwaymen and assorted other villains. As I continued on, I inadvertently wandered into a cycle lane and was treated to a furious ringing of a cyclist’s bell! Bad Tiger!

Beautiful trees, from Colebrooke Row

As we entered Colbrooke Row, the sun charmingly illuminated these beautiful trees. (Am I becoming obsessed with trees? What if I am? They are a worthy subject for admiration 🙂 )

Plant pot for a motor enthusiast

We entered Elia Street where this plant pot attracted my attention. Perhaps the owner is a Volkswagen Beetle enthusiast.

A fruity wreath

Though not collecting wreaths, I had to have this one because it is unusually fruity! Almost mouth-watering, in fact!

A public street privatised

In Quick Street is to be found this mews. A mews was originally a street giving access to stables belonging to the nearby houses. More recently, the buildings within have been converted into dwellings but the street normally remains public access. The presence of gates suggests that in this case the mews has been privatised, something I deplore. What is public should remain public and not be taken over by private interests.

St John the Evangelist

We worked our way back to Colebrooke Row from where we had this view of the towers of the Catholic Church of St John the Evangelist which were shining prettily in the late afternoon sunshine.

Another bath

Here we found another discarded bath. Is it open season on baths all of a sudden?

We crossed back over City Road (where I avoided trespassing in the cycle lane!) and made our way to Jusaka. It was again closed. Has it closed permanently or what?

Saint Espresso

Once again we availed ourselves of the services of Saint Espresso. I find I quite like their coffee, fortunately. We hurried home with our coffees and thus our outing cane to an end.

But wait! You will be wondering about the flowers. It turns out that they are from Mr Upstairs and were accompanied by an apologetic mea culpa and a promise to take more care in future. Do we believe him?

Tigger suggested I send him a text to thank him but that means I have to think up a suitable message. What about:

Happy Christmas H₂O! H₂O! H₂O!

Seems to fit the occasion!

When Lockdown v1 was declared, we had serendipitously just had our hair cut, meaning that we could ride out the “confinement” (as the French call it) without needing to buy a bunch of blue ribbons to tie up our bonnie black hair.

The same thing happened, again by chance, in November: just before Lockdown v2 was called, we had paid a visit to the barber’s.

Luxuriating in the post-lockdown atmosphere, we had let things slide somewhat though we had tentatively pencilled haircuts into our diary for later this week. However, hearing that an announcement is to be made this afternoon that will probably shove London into Tier 3 added sudden urgency to the matter and we thought it best to dash out straight away to our local, friendly “Cutting Bar”.

The “Cutting Bar”
Photo by Tigger

We go to the cheap “cutters” in White Lion Street. At £9 each for a no frills but efficient service, it can’t be beaten. Especially as they now know us and how we like our hair cut. (Yes, I’m aware there are cheaper ones still, but we know these folk and that they do a good job.)

Ironically, they told us that even under Tier 3 regulations, hairdressers will be allowed to remain, open so we could have kept to our original plan after all. Not that it matters – a day earlier or later doesn’t make a difference.

Christmas trees at Bill’s
Photo by Tigger

Opposite the cutting bar, Bill’s restaurant has a pair of prettily decorated Christmas trees out in front. Most businesses are preparing for Christmas, striving to make it as “normal” as possible when it is in fact far from normal.

Turning to another matter, Tigger has for some time been interested in polarising filters for the camera. She recently took the plunge and bought one.

Clip-on polarising filter

As you can see, it has a clip to hold it in place on the iPhone and had a cover to protect it when not in use. An important feature is that the filter can be rotated to match, or cancel out, the light polarisation of the scene. This can be useful when photographing subjects behind glass or in water, etc.

As yesterday, it was raining again today and despite taking the Big Umbrella with us (the Big Umbrella covers both of us and is reserved for serious weather conditions, having clever vents to prevent it being blown inside-out in windy conditions), we decided to take our new haircuts straight home, pausing only to pick up takeaway coffees from Saint Espresso.

Having ordered the coffee and while waiting for it to be prepared, Tigger took two photos of the cake display case to test the filter. Here they are:

With the filter set vertically

With the filter set horizontally

I’ll leave you to examine the pictures and spot the differences. There is one quite noticeable difference and this suggests that the filter could certainly be useful in certain situations.

In case you are wondering (see previous post), the flow of water from the ceiling eventually stopped and we were able to empty the bin and remove Tigger’s hydro engineering constructions. Our neighbour downstairs has again contacted the Council about Mr Upstairs and his aqueous misdeeds but I do not have much hope that any effective steps will be taken. I am, though, always ready to be happily mistaken.

Imagine the scene. I wake up. It is still dark. I haven’t put in my “dolbies” (hearing aids) yet but I can hear a repeated tap-tapping sound from the hallway. It sounds like dripping water but of course, it can’t be that.

Can it?

I get up, put in my trousers, slippers and a top. Then I pick up my mobile. Not wishing to disturb Tigger’s sleep I don’t turn on the light but use the “torch” facility in my phone.

The hallway floor is dry. So is that in the tiny bathroom. Phew! No dripping water, then. Relief.

Then the light picks up a shininess on the floor of the living room. Relief evaporates… The dripping sound is of water coming from the ceiling: our upstairs neighbour is flooding us again. Yes, AGAIN.

I wake Tigger and tell her the news. Then I go upstairs and hammer on my neighbour’s door. No response. After trying a few more times, I give up and rejoin Tigger.

It occurs to us that if we are being flooded then so is our neighbour downstairs. Accordingly, I go down and hammer on his door. Several times. No response.

My next action is to call Partners’ Out of Hours Service [1]. Not that I expect them to be able to help but anything is worth trying..

I listen impatiently to a long, long pre-recorded message about Covid rules and regulations and protections. Finally, an actual human responds. I tell the story but receive the only too expected response: “If your neighbour is not responding, we cannot gain access; and if we cannot gain access we cannot do anything.”

I write a note and attach it to my neighbour’s door with sticky tape. “Water is dripping from our ceiling. Is it coming from your flat”.

Meanwhile, Tigger has pulled out the step-ladder from behind the bedroom door and is constructing a jury-rigged system with parcel tape and cut-up plastic bags stuck to the ceiling in order to channel at least some of the water into a bin.

Now my downstairs neighbour taps on my door to enquire whether we have water coming into our flat. He didn’t hear me knocking but, like me, woke up to find water dripping from the ceiling. While I am tiredly resigned to the situation (this is our 8th flooding from the same source), he is very angry. Ironically, today he has an appointment for repairs necessitated by the previous flooding.

I explain that Partners cannot help and say that I will call the Council when their office open. They may have a contact phone number for Mr Upstairs.

My neighbour says that he has a mobile number for Mr Upstairs but, as he is in dispute with him, is not allowed to contact him. I ask for the number as this will save me making a probably fruitless call to the Council.

I call the number. Mr Upstairs answers. I say that water is coming into our flat from above and ask if he is at home. He tells me that he is an hour away but will come back. I am careful not to accuse him of the flooding in case, by some remote chance, he is not to blame.

All we can do now is sit and wait, keeping an eye on the bin to see that it doesn’t overflow. Assuming that our neighbour does return and stem the flow, we will have to wait for the remaining water to work its way down and then clean up the mess.

We know, however, that even when some semblance of order has been restored, this is only temporary until our neighbour floods us again… and again. Neither remonstrances nor appeals to the Council have so far produced any useful result.

Later…

Mr Upstairs returned home and then called me by phone. He gave me an explanation for the flooding but this doesn’t make sense to me. He said that the taps in his kitchen sink are corroded and they drip. While he was away, he said, the dripping taps had filled the sink which then overflowed. He will call the Council to repair the taps.

I don’t know about you but I am not convinced by that story. I cannot imagine any reasonable scenario in which it could be true.

I let our downstairs neighbour know the substance of the phone call and he too is sceptical of the veracity of the story. He has already contacted the Council about our problem neighbour and will do so again. Can we ever expect a resolution of this problem?

[1] Partners is an independent company that manages and maintains the Council’s properties.

Sunday is our day for shopping, so that is what we did. When set out we found that it had rained during the night, quite hard to judge from the puddles. Even with the temperature around 7°C, it felt chilly and there was moisture in the air, making it feel colder still.

When we came to cross Pentonville Road, we found a solid and unmoving file of cars and buses in the King’s Cross direction. What was the hold-up: road works, an accident, flooding? We shall probably never know but it must have been something serious.

Farmers’ Market

On reaching Chapel Market, I paused to take a few photos of the Farmers’ Market that traditionally takes place on Sundays. There seemed to be a good turn-out as is usual in the approach to Christmas. Perhaps persistent rumours that London will be put in Tier 3 also motivates stallholders to sell as much as they can while they still can.

I stopped just long enough to take photos of the first two stalls.

Flowers and plants

This stall has a fine range of plants. I’m not a gardener or indeed knowledgeable about plants so whether these are intended as house plants or for planting out in the garden, I cannot say.

Fruit and vegetables

Fruit and vegetables are if course staples of farmers’ markets. I wonder how much trade they manage to do as we have a couple of shops selling these goods as well as several stalls in the ordinary market, not to mention that the supermarkets also sell them.

We had left home at 10:45, thinking to reach Sainsbury’s just after they opened. In theory, they open 15 minutes ahead of time to allow “browsing” before the checkouts open. (These 15 minutes are additional to the statutory opening hours.) Today, however, we arrived to find a static queue of shoppers waiting for the doors to open. We joined it but it only started moving on the dot of 11:00.

(Queues outside shops snd other businesses, something not seen in Britain since the Second World War, have become a common sight.)

We dutifully plonked the hand gel dispenser at the entrance but hardly anything came out. Despite opening late, they hadn’t managed to refill it…

I scooted off to find my own few purchases and then rejoined Tigger for the main shopping. Typical male, I have no idea what we need or where to find it in the shop while Tigger has a complete shopping list in her head. So I push the trolley and Tigger loads it.

“Choose a cheese,” she says. I do and on we go.

We found a checkout where just one customer was just finishing. When it is our turn we again cooperate. Have you noticed how the checkout people never push your items far enough along the slide? This is even more annoying now that they have installed protective barriers around the till. So, I reach around the screen for the items and Tigger packs them. Then I pay by poking my mobile through the slot to the payment machine. I like the cheerful “ploink” it makes to indicate successful payment.

Outside, someone offers me a pound coin for the trolley, saving me the effort of returning it to the trolley store. Then we head once more for Chapel Market on our way home.

I’m sure you are expecting the next bit 🙂

Goodies on sale in Mercer’s

Yes, we called in at Mercer’s for takeaway coffees. I sneaked this photo of their display of cakes and confectionary. I din’t doubt that they would give permission for photos if I asked but it’s more fun to do it covertly like a spy! (“Easily pleased”, did I hear you mutter? 🙂 )

When we reached Pentonville Road there was still a queue of traffic in the King’s Cross direction. Still, that at least made it easy to cross the road.

I was glad to be back indoors in the warm with my coffee. And there we will stay for the rest of today. Tomorrow is another day and perhaps we will venture out further, depending on the weather. For now, the shopping expedition was enough.