On Saturday afternoon I got the train to London for a 'Four* Girls from London' reunion in the evening. I went up a few hours early, so I could spend some time wandering around some of my old west London haunts from the early 90s. Maria and I lived variously around Notting Hill, Maida Vale, Westbourne Grove and White City and spent many happy times in and around Portobello Road, at the market, in the bars and at the carnival with lots of good mates. I don't know if I have a misty-eyed memory of it, and to be fair 20 years have passed, but it had changed a lot. While the antique end of the market and the flea market were still there, there were huge number of stalls selling nothing more than tourist tat. I don't remember there being so many tourists either and the entire West Indian community seems to have vanished - no more pumping reggae coming out of doorways and open windows. All the old boozers are now gastro pubs and there was a surprising number of mainstream high street shops along the road in place of the one-off shops that made Portobello unique. That said, several old stalwarts were still there - the Electric cinema and the Ground Floor bar and First Floor restaurant where Rob and I first met. I walked from Notting Hill all the way along Westbourne Park Road to Little Venice and onto to Warwick Ave to meet Ann-Marie, Deborah and Lorraine at Rachael's gorgeous flat, where Champagne bottles were relieved of their corks, and the canapes couldn't be plated up fast enough. Then it was around the corner to Deborah's for a lovely dinner, before I jumped on the late-night train home to Hastings. Good times.
*Rachael has joined as an honorary 5th member.
Just back this morning from a totally brilliant week in Majorca, staying at the holiday house of old mates David and Sarah. The house is very private with a walled garden on a quiet road a few miles from the old town of Pollenca, in the north east of the island, well away from the Brits Abroad southern beaches. We spent our days idling in their pool, occasionally venturing out to the odd local beach, village market or walled town. We climbed the 365 steps to the church at Calvari, drove out along the switchbacks to Cap Formentura and strolled around Palma's magnificent gothic cathedral. Highlights included making gin and tonics using lemons and limes from the tree in the garden, seeing the thrilled look on Flo's face having mastered lengths of the pool doing a combination of breast stroke and crawl, Scarlett perfecting her dive after a zillion "Watch me Mum, Dad!" practices, strolling to a local restaurant with swimming pool for dinner while the girls splashed about, visiting the Sunday market in Pollenca and eating our body weight in serrano ham and cheese. It was all incredibly easy and relaxing. I managed to read two whole books by the pool and, with the girls now at an age when late nights don't create a problem, we were all in bed late every night and sleeping in very late every day. I hadn't been to Majorca since I was a kid on holiday with my family and had forgotten, or more likely never bothered to notice, how beautiful the island is. The mountains that cut across from north to south create a stunning backdrop to olive and lemon groves, terracotta tile roofed houses, palm trees and windmills. Viva Espana!
