A Super Saturday
Travel Location: London,United-Kingdom
Unfortunately, Kent had to go into work on saturday. On nice not-rainy mornings, he likes to walk to work and since this morning was not only nice and not rainy, but downright sunny, I decided to tag along on his stroll. We walked a few blocks to the entrance of an enclosed area callled New River Walk. According to a poster, the New River Walk is “neither new, nor a river”. It’s really a man made aqueduct built in the early 1600′s to transport a steady supply of drinking water to the growing London population. Certain areas have since been restored into picturesque river walks. We stepped through the iron gates and were immediately transported from the urban city streets to a romantic autumn setting. Right before my eyes a narrow paved trail loosely wove its way through lush grassy knolls, weeping willows and red leafed trees. On our right was a small river, with a thin layer of bright green moss and the occasional mallard or coot floating on the surface. We walked across wooden bridges and stone bridges, past an old guard house and through piles of yellow and orange leaves. It was just gorgeous, and the perfect way to start the day.
Our trip ended when we stepped onto Essex Street. Sigh. Back in the city. A few doors down, we passed a small shop filled to the brim with animals, dead ones of course. There was a cute penguin in the window, a variety of birds hanging from the ceiling, but most impressive/disturbing was the hippo head hung on the wall. The clever sign above the small taxidermy shop made us both giggle: Get Stuffed. Ha! And, awww… poor things.
With just enough time for breakfast, we stopped in S&M (Sausage and Mash… The Brits seem to have a thing for naming places with double entendres (Or maybe I just don’t notice it as much in the states?). So far this week I have eaten at The Famous Cock (as in male chicken of course) and I am anxiously awaiting a sweet snack at Snog (England’s Pinkberry) Anyway…). We were greeted and seated by a cute blonde boy whom we immediately pegged as Australian when he asked “How you going?” (which is Aussie-talk for “How’s it going”). Kent, who is just loving London’s thicker, meatier version of bacon, ordered a bacon and egg breakfast sandwich. I wanted something a tad more Britty, so I got scrambled eggs, an english muffin, roasted potatoes and baked beans. I don’t think I’d had beans for breakfast since my sister and I were in Scotland, and man have I missed ‘em! They were delicious, and so filling I couldn’t even finish them all!
After breakfast, Kent went ahead to the studio and I walked back to Stokey. At Kent’s recommendation, and with the sunny weather welcoming exploration, I headed past the flat and towards the northern area of the neighborhood. When I came up to Stoke Newington Church Road, I saw why Kent had suggested I go here. In front of me was a huge sprawling park, Clissold Park a sign told me. Lining the street opposite the park were heaps of cafes, vintage shops and super cute gift and stationery stores. Towering above the shop was the ornate gothic steeple of St. Mary’s Church. I wandered around the park and perused nearly every vintage store I passed until I came to a creepy looking iron and stone gateway. Beyond it, I could see an old graveyard overflowing with statues, tombstones and untrimmed trees and ivy. It was Abney Park Cemetary, and I couldn’t resist going inside.
Even though there was barely a cloud in sight, the dense cover of the overgrown trees gave the cemetary an unnatural darkness. I followed the damp dirt trail littered with dead leaves through the maze of graves ranging in age from the late 1800′s to the early 2000′s. The thing I found most interesting was the general disorganization and congestion of the burial sites. There seemed to be piles and piles of gravestones and the larger statues were practically leaning on each other. This gave the appearance of the deceased being laid to rest on top of one another and made me wonder more about the history of Abney Park… particularly the burial history. Some later research would reveal that the cemetary had opened as a non-denominational garden cemetary in 1840, the first in Europe. Its founders also wanting to throw education in the mix, the cemetary had 2,500 different varieties of trees and shrubs planted throughout the 32 acre landscape, all labelled and arranged alphabetically. In 1978, the land passed to the city. With the exception of a few courtesy burials for family members, burial rights have ceased and the foilage within the park has been allowed to flourish naturally. I don’t think this really answered my question as to why the grounds seemed so crowded, but it was still an interesting back story. After wandering around the graves of strangers for a bit, I bought some fresh baked bread at a nearby farmer’s market and went back to the flat for a much needed nap.
I woke up just in time to get ready for the night. Kent’s friend James, from work, was hosting a Guy Fawkes bonfire, and had invited the two of us to join in the celebration. Yay- I love parties! I took the bus downown and met Kent, along with some of the “Gumball” crew, at the usual hangout- The Duke (the pub just below the animation studio). I was introduced to James and John (both writers on show), and Ben and Aurelie (an adorable french couple- Ben is the creator of “Gumball” and I had actually met him the last time I was at The Duke). After a quick drink, James, Ben, Aurelie, Kent and I walked to the nearest Underground, and hopped the tube. We got off one stop early, stocked up on liquor and took a cab to James’ huge house in the suburbs. Once owned by his grandmother, he now lives there with his fiancee, Holly, and his brother Remy. The weekend before, James had held a Halloween party and I was thrilled to see they hadn’t bothered to take down any decorations. On the lawn, skeletons were crawling out of their open graves, and inside was the usual emsemble of skulls and cobwebs. Awesome! Also waiting just inside the house was a generous pile of fireworks. Double awesome!! After some more introductions, we all excitedly ran out to the backyard for a show. Sparklers in hand, the girls kept a safe distance on the porch while the boys set up the pyrotechnics in the center of the large backyard. The homemade show was quite impressive. I had no idea such fantastic explosives were available to the public. Los Angeles County is really missing out.
When the firework supply ran out, we all went back inside where a new (to us) drinking game soon began. This was a fun one. A deck of cards was placed face down on a table. When it was your turn, you picked a card and had to do the activity that coordinated with the face value on a preestablished list. For example, an ace might mean charades (whoever guessed correctly nominated a drinker), a queen might be a dare (decided on by the group) and an eight might be karaoke (in which no one would actually drink, but amusing nonetheless). My fave card was the nine, for when I finally picked it, I got to run upstairs to the costume room (yes, there is a room in this house solely devoted to costumes) and dress in something really silly. I invited Aurelie to come with (I knew she was looking forward to playing dress up too) and we reemerged a few minutes later, she in a long white beard and a paddy hat, and I in a hula skirt and a chorus line headdress. By the end of the night the gathering had evolved into a dance party, and just about everyone had some sort of costume on. Best dance party ever. We didn’t get home til 4 am! Luckily, the next day being sunday, we both had a sleep in day ahead of us.
Cheers!
