old north, E street

January 28, 2025February 1, 2025Leave a comment

January is flying by. That is, if that flight is a plane going to the other side of the world which is delayed and redirected to the wrong airport and you lose all your luggage and there’s no legroom and people in front of you keep reclining their seats the whole way even during dinner and you have to sit next to someone who watches movies on their iPad without headphones and there’s non-stop turbulence. Januarys are gonna January, but do they have to January like this January? It goes on and on and on, and then when you think it might be done, it goes on even more. This particular January feels like it will go on for about four years (if we are lucky), but I keep telling myself, these times too will pass. They will get worse, and we will look back on them like some sort of golden age. This January has been horrible for California, with the absolutely devastating wildfires in and around Los Angeles, I’m in shock thinking about it. We have had no big fires up this way thankfully, but this has been the driest January I remember. It’s been cold but not too cold, and we have also had a lot of wind but nothing like what was down there. The rain may finally come next weekend, but after the fires it brings threats of landslides. All these thoughts do make me appreciate places as they are, and I have spent a lot of this month burying my head in the sketchbook to make sense of the world, and going around Davis to catch up on drawing it all. The older houses around the Old North Davis neighbourhood in particular. As mentioned in previous posts, I have long been a fan of John Lofland’s book about the area and sometimes carry it with me as a guide to the historic buildings, especially if I need context for drawing them. The house above, which is on the corner of 5th and E Streets, is one I have drawn a number of times over the years. I like triangle shapes, and sometimes there are nice shadows from the very tall white-barked trees. According to Lofland the house itself is known as the Tingus Home and was built in 1936, for George and Constance Tingus. It’s across from the Fire Station, and traffic from the busy 5th Street rushes by. I remember many years ago I sold a print of a sketch I did of this building to a local company who had done some work not on this house but on the red-bricked one next door, which was visible in the drawing. It’s in this one too, but it definitely deserves it’s own drawing; see below. It’s known as the Granucci home and was also built in 1936 (for J.F. and Annie Granucci), but in a more distinctive brick which is not very common for houses here.

It’s lovely, but the sketch is a little inaccurate; I drew it over a couple of days, doing outlines on site across the street and adding in details and colour after (it was cold, I was losing light; I spent more time outside on the one above) but I failed to spot that the roof is not actually that big. The tall part is from another building at the back of the original small house, which you can see if you look at the picture above. My poor eyesight didn’t catch it, and I didn’t notice when adding colour from the photo I took. I had already scanned and posted it to Flickr before I saw the mistake. So in my sketchbook, I tried to correct it by adding a more distinctive line between the roof roofs, though it didn’t exactly line up. I never re-scanned it so that version stays in the book for now.

This is the third one along this block of E Street, and while I drew from across the road because I liked the shape of the big tree and the shadows it cast, the house itself is an artistic wonderland. I would love to draw that all some day (I am not inclined to be sketching over people’s fences), but it’s a really nice yard to walk past. It does appear in Lofland’s book, not named, and the old photo looks a little different to this. I love the red paint of the building now.

Finally, the same block but the other side of the street, this old house was known as the ‘Arnold Home’, as according to Lofland’s book, it was the house of a Math professor Hubert Arnold for half a century, and he collected over many decades an incredible collection of artistic ceramics which were then donated to the Crocker Museum in Sacramento.

I’ve a load of drawings from this January to post. Constantly drawing in my spare time, continuing my quest to document the landscape of this city where I have ended up spending the last nearly twenty years of my life, is my attempt at keeping myself away from the despair of January and all its news. At least it’s sunny.

berries

January 26, 2025January 27, 20253 Comments

The last Christmassy thing I drew this festive season, right at the end. Not a lot to be festive about now is there. These little holly berries are another Jellycat thing, we have a few of those now. Sometimes, little things with smiles on them can cheer you up. The internet isn’t going to do that, social media isn’t. Social media. This phase of human history has been a bit of a social experiment, hasn’t it, and maybe it’s time to evolve again. I stopped posting to Facebook a long time ago, except when making Let’s Draw Davis events (which I haven’t organized since October, I have become a bit shy on that front). I stopped posting to Twitter (‘X’ is a stupid stupid name) due to the increasingly awful richest man in the world owner; a shame, as it used to be quite good. I’m still using Instagram despite the terrible shift in the owner, mostly because on the whole it’s been a good place, but I’m stopping using Threads because rather than being a ‘nice’ version of Twitter, for me it’s become an exhausting app full of posts I really don’t want to see but are which are designed to just draw you in and exhaust and frustrate you, and not even from people I follow. Threads might be my least favourite of all, I’ve decided. Look, if anyone follows me on there, all I do is complain/cheer about Tottenham, I don’t really post my sketching stuff there. I don’t interact with people, I follow accounts about sketching or football or history, and I don’t look for engagement either. Yet because the app defaults not to the ‘following’ list but the dreaded ‘For You’ list, I get pulled by gravity into looking at posts either complaining about the afore-unmentioned billionaire and whatever stupid crap the other one who shall not be named has said or done today, or it’s really mind-numbing engagement posts that for some reason the algorithm has decided I should see, such as “I don’t understand, why do the British have a different accent from me?” or “Can someone explain, why do the British eat baked beans, what are they?” or “Can someone explain, what is the difference between Britain and Ireland?” followed by frankly hundreds of stupid responses either actually explaining it or having a go at them for asking it. For a while most of the posts that showed up for me were along the lines of “Hey! I’m new to English Pre-Meer League, what team should I support?” as if they actually want a real answer. But of course they don’t. All of it, or at least 99% of this all, is just bait, we live in a world of endless click bait. And we all know who the master baiters are. Now even my phone is at it, I have been getting a lot of texts lately from spammers and scammers, I delete and report every one but it’s like Space Invaders, they keep coming. But Threads, sorry, it ain’t working out between us. I always preferred being petescully to ‘pwscully’ (that was always going to be my novelist name, but I couldn’t think of any good stories). So, I’m doing the latest New Twitter Replacement, Bluesky, which does seem nicer and easier to use without getting so much of the distracting noise (ironically, just like how Twitter worked for me, before every other post became an ad for whichever right-wing SuperPac paid whats-his-face the most money). I am ‘petescully‘ again at Bluesky, and sure half of my posts will be drawing related, half will be me moaning about Spurs, and the other half will be… until I’m bored of that. It’s almost exciting, like back when we were all doing MySpace and LiveJournal and something new would come along. To be honest, I’ve never been interested in big followings like some sketchers get, or being part of any global conversation, or even engaging in debates with people online who I do not know. I am one of those who just likes yelling at the void. I just like to draw, and look at the world and draw, and then ramble about whatever in this place, the good old sketchblog. This predates all the social medias that have caused so much of a headache, and a lot of people gave this sort of thing up for the instant expansion all that short-attention-span social media offered. I’m still here. I hope you like the berries.

the old westone

January 24, 2025January 24, 2025Leave a comment

The first sketch of 2025, but this one turns back the years, a very long way. On my last trip to London, I finally brought my old guitar back to California with me. Much to the relief of my mum I’m sure, since it’s been sitting in the back of her cupboard for years. This is my old Westone Concord I, which was given to me on my 14th birthday by my older brother. It was my first electric guitar – technically not my first actual guitar, since I picked up a really crappy acoustic at a car boot sale the year before for a fiver – hey it did the job, I learned my first chords on it and I learned how to change guitar strings on it. This one though was my first proper guitar, Japanese built, sleek and heavy with a very smooth lacquered wood finish and rounded edges, it was something to love. I didn’t want to put it down, and I rarely did. Between this and the drawing all the time it was a wonder I got anything done, though I did spend a lot of time in libraries reading language books and planning round-the-world trips. I never got that good at it, really, just enough for the sort of thing I liked. I could not and still can not play fiddly solos and do all that guitar hero stuff, but then I was never much into that sort of music. I played a lot of Beatles, Pogues, Irish music, and of course Sex Pistols and Buzzcocks. I started writing songs on this guitar right away. I wrote a lot of songs as a teenager, as you do. A lot of crap but also a lot that was immensely fun, something I’m well proud of. This was my only electric guitar for a long time, and over the years it got a little battered, the frets worn down (making it obvious I played the ‘D’ chord a bit too much) and the pick-ups and connections totally knackered. I also never had an amplifier; I would sometimes plug it into my mum’s stereo, into the jack used for a microphone (there would be a lot of karaoke singing at our family’s parties, lot of Irish songs going on), but I usually had to play with headphones on. At school though, whenever I got access to an amp, that thing would get turned up to 11 and a half. The sound it makes is dirty. A proper punk sound. I still have tapes of it, echoing through the school canteen, ending with the dinner ladies yelling at us. A friend had a small amp I’d use sometimes too when we’d get together to make really bad music. Bad, but great. I remember drawing this before, during my A-Levels, or maybe GCSEs, we studies a lot of still-life which was mostly bottles, vases and guitars. I always loved its distinctive shape. The Westone guitar did not make the cut when I moved to America. My main instrument was my big Hohner acoustic, and even that did not fly with me in 2005, I brought it over a year and a half later. So this one floated about in London, at my brother’s where my nephew played it, then one year it turned up at my mum’s again, and that gave me something to play whenever I’d come back. I’d always intended to bring it over some day, but airline allowance and everything, it was too hard. This time though I flew with Virgin which has a good policy on instruments (thanks Branson!), and I was expecting to pay the extra to have it checked in at the gate. No you’re fine, they said, it doesn’t take up much room, it’s not that heavy, and so I was able to bring it on as an extra carry-on, very easy. So, after all these years, I have all my guitars reunited. I do need to fix the frets, and the connections, maybe get new pick-ups (as long as they are as dirty a sound as the current ones), and maybe then learn how to play it better. Nah, I’m good! The Westone is back! It’s 2025, already a way worse year than even imagined, it’s time to rock out.

new year’s eaves

January 23, 2025January 23, 20254 Comments

The last sketch of 2024, a walk along the North Davis Greenbelt, another tree, the last of the year. Look at me writing “Happy New Year!” on the page ironically, as if 2025 was ever going to be any good. And yep, even worse than expected so far. These days too will pass, but what follows. I will keep drawing as much as I can, and I have been. I suppose I should keep drawing trees before they all get cut down or burnt, or fall over, or get sold off or deported or eaten. New Year’s Eve, I find it a bit useless, celebrating at midnight when the thing you are dreading most – January – arrives. At least I have the football, at least Spurs are good – oh, right, the opposite. We have a manager (who I think we still like) from Australia, and we are getting beaten Home and Away, losing to our Neighbours, our injured players are all at the Flying Doctors (and the Young Doctors), and Ange Postecoglou is looking like a Prisoner. It’s driving me Round the Twist. Happy New Year (yeah right).

old east davis, the day before new year’s eve

January 22, 20253 Comments

A few more left from the last days of 2024. We are already into the most 2025 part of 2025 so far and I’m already looking back on 2024 wondering what the hell happened. The way I’m getting on with each day is by furiously drawing in the sketchbook as if my sanity depends on it, because of course it does. I am making good on my mission to draw all of Davis, though I get frustrated by the old adage that I’ve drawn it all. I haven’t drawn all of Davis, just enough of it so you get the general idea. I don’t go into Old East Davis that much, partly because it’s not that big, partly because I don’t really have a need to since I live in a different direction. For a number of years after first moving to Davis, this was my route home from downtown, though that time of life is so long ago now (of course it still exists in the archives of this sketchblog). It’s 2025 now, so that means I’m going to start approaching the ‘Twenty Years in America’ mark. The thought of that overwhelms me. The thought of everything overwhelms me really, which is why I focus on the sketchbook page, I guess. Anyway, this sketch above is one of those big historic houses that were built in the early years of Davis (or Davisville as it was then), the Schmeiser House. It was built in 1911 (so it is older than the Watling Estate where I’m from, in Burnt Oak, though we do have a Roman Road, Watling Street). When I say this is a sketch of the Schmeiser House, it’s only the porch and the front yard, most of the sketch is the view looking up I Street (which sounds like it might be Roman, like “I, Claudius”). I have drawn the Schmeiser House before, ironically that was on Dec 31, 2016, which was a time with a lot of parallels to now in many ways, except this time we know what’s coming, or we think we do. Now feels a bit shitter. It’s funny that I should draw this building at this same time of year in this same historical moment though, like its the subconsciousness telling me something. Incidentally this house has another nickname, a bit of an unfortunate one, ‘the Swastika House’. Theodore Schmeiser, who built the house, was a pioneer whose father Gottfried had emigrated from Stuttgart, Germany, and the brickwork on the chimney features a pretty big swastika motif. Now I know what you’re thinking, especially this week, and no it’s not just a ‘Roman salute’. In this case though it genuinely is a bit more innocent, the house was built in 1911, when you-know-who was still just a crap painter in Vienna, and the swastika was generally seen as a good luck charm, especially among Germans. Good luck with that now. Honestly though, it was not a big deal then because nobody thought it would become what it became. You see swastika motifs in a lot of old American civic buildings, and even here in Davis there was a local football team called, wait for it, the Davis Swastikas. They even wore big swastikas on their shirts. Like I say, good luck with that. Apparently they disbanded after a player broke his neck, probably not from mental gymnastics though like nowadays. The big swastika on the chimney here is hard to actually spot because it’s low down, and I didn’t draw it in this sketch anyway. The house is on the City of Davis Historic Pedestrian and Bike Tour, and of that list, I must have drawn almost everything now?

I also drew this house on 4th street, because I have to draw picket fences, and that tree was really quite the shape. I don’t know if there’s any particular historical story with this house, don’t know if there are any unusual embarrassing historical symbols in the chimney, it just looked nice. Then again I look at that list, and indeed this house is there: it is the McBride House, built in 1912 by E.S. McBride, a local councilman. By the way, back in 2017 for the centenary of the City of Davis I held a special sketchcrawl with a map showing all the pre-1917 buildings or places left in Davis, or as many as I could find anyway. I don’t know if I’ve drawn them all yet, but I’ve got to be close now. I must write a book some day, to celebrate twenty years in Davis. Now there’s an idea…

logos books on the corner of the alley

January 18, 20251 Comment

Last sketch of the sketchbook, not the last one of 2024. Logos Books is a good little bookshop downtown, they sell second-hand books and you can pick up some great bargains. They get their books from those donated to the Friends of the Davis Library, where people donate their books, I’ve done that myself. Logos hasn’t been here as long as I have, but there was a similar second hand bookshop here before wasn’t there? I remember Bogey’s around the corner where Bizarro now is. I just remember that first day I ever came to Davis, and looked around the shops downtown while my wife interviewed for a job at the university, I went into the soccer shop and talked Spurs shirts, and I went into the second hand bookshop and saw old language dictionaries and 1980s-era Berlitz phrasebooks, and the existence of those two things made me think it might be worth living here. Fast forward more than 19 years and Logos still has 1980s Berlitz phrasebooks and I still get my Spurs shirts from Soccer and Lifestyle. Back then, Spurs were on the way up and in the top four, and now… mate. To be fair we ended up fifth that season due to the dodgy lasagne, if I remember. I did like sketching this, a couple of people said hello and told me they followed my sketches on Instagram which is nice. I always get surprised by that. I have quite a few bookshops in that sketchbook, it was a very literary one. Started with one in Kauai, we had a few in London, and ended up with this one in Davis. You can see all the sketches from this book in this folder.

xmas day 2024

January 17, 2025January 17, 2025Leave a comment

And back to America. This is a sketch from Christmas Day, in my wife’s mom’s living room in Santa Rosa, the fireplace after all the presents and stockings had been given out. I had done my back in the day before crouching down on the kitchen floor to find pots and pans for our annual turkey roast on Christmas Eve (it was delicious, but agony). For Christmas in Santa Rosa we have crab. I had been worried that my back would mean I couldn’t go, but was alright on the drive over, and we did our annual presents thing. While people chatted afterwards I sat and played Christmas tunes on my ukulele and sketched the living room. We didn’t go away anywhere for Christmas this year. I’ve often thought it might be nice to have Christmas in somewhere like Salzburg or Norway, or one of those other places in the Rick Steve’s Christmas Special, but it’s a lot of planning, and you want to see family. In the evening we went down to see family in Petaluma, always nice. Next day we walked (or in my case limped) about Target buying half price wrapping paper, and my back started to feel a little better. I never miss the chance to go and get half-price rolls of wrapping paper, and I cannot resist immediately using the wrapping paper like a lightsabre, it’s literally impossible, even with a bad back. I like shiny wrapping paper, and always go for the good stuff, the cheap stuff can go for stocking stuffers. Another Christmas in California, but now it’s 2025.

by the stream in Watling Park

January 16, 2025January 17, 2025Leave a comment

And so, the last few sketches from my short trip back home to London last month. While at home at my mum’s if I wasn’t out on a sketching day or visiting my dad in hospital, I’d sometimes go for a walk around Burnt Oak to see what’s changed; quite a lot, some good, some not really. I still look for what’s the same. The park at the end of the street has never had the best reputation, but Watling Park is where I spent my childhood with my friends from our street and the kids from all the other streets, so I thought I should bring my sketchbook back down there, since 2024 was all about drawing trees after all. It was a damp gloomy decembrous day, my tummy was full of mince pies. I stood by the stream and drew trees going across it. The sketch below is what I drew first, a tree that had fallen across the stream, I sketched quickly in pencil and added paint right there. Across the stream a very excitable dog was running around and up to people, I think it was a Staffy, and the owners weren’t bothered if it jumped up at people. I wasn’t keen on it jumping up at me while I painted so I worked fast. They didn’t walk on this side of the stream though. The one above was drawn in pen, but I didn’t colour it in until the plane journey home. This part of the stream has walls into the stream (see below), while the section above does not, though I was in roughly the same place, just turned around. The tree that had fallen, I think that may have been the one when I was a kid that had a Tarzan rope attached to it so we could swing across. The stream is so narrow that a kid can jump across anyway (well, usually) but the Tarzan rope was always the more adventurous way. I spent so much of my childhood here, when I wasn’t indoors drawing. So did my older brother and sister, and my uncle Billy, I always think of him when I think of the Tarzan rope. The view above, that’s the park I know. That little arched bridge, this is the middle one, there are three in the park. The stretch of stream between that one and the one by the old Bowling Green was full of bushes and hideouts, an adventure playground for us. There were stingy nettles, but also dock leaves, that is where we learned that old medical trick to heal the stings. That stream is properly called Burnt Oak Brook (we knew it as part of the Silkstream, though didn’t know the word ‘tributary’ in those days); we just called it ‘The Stream’, and it ran over towards the Meads, past the allotments. It was full of little stickleback fish, shopping trolleys, bits of old bike. We used to try damming it up with sticks and mud and whatever we could find, to see how long the dam would last. The stream always came back.

The Silkstream itself flows through various parks and underneath Burnt Oak and Colindale, and was sometimes treachourous. We grew up knowing there were dangers when playing by the waters; I don’t mean in those public service shorts that would go out on kids TV in the early 80s, “Charlie Says” and so on. When I was about five or six, there was a horrible day when some children died in different parts of the Silkstream, not in Watling Park but further down in Silkstream Park and another park in Hendon I think. The water was high from the rain and deceptively strong. One of them was a boy, also called Peter, who lived in the next street over from us, he was in my year at school. It was the first time I’d really experienced knowing anyone who had died, other than my grandad, and at such a young age I didn’t really understand. I remember a lot of kids at school crying, and kids in our street being in shock. I think I was playing down Watling Park myself that day with my neighbours, in those days that park was our babysitter, if we weren’t at home or in the street outside, that’s where we could be found, don’t go beyond. What I didn’t know until recently was that when this happened, and people started to hear about it, some kids heard ‘Peter’ and assumed it was me (there weren’t many Peters in our area, a lot of Marks and Lees and Davids but very few Peters). They went to my house and told my sister they heard I had died in the stream. I can’t imagine what she must have thought. I think she went straight down Watling and found me, we don’t remember now, she always knew where to find me, and I was probably in my neighbour Tasha’s house, the other place I spent my childhood. She was close to Peter too, and his family, and we found it difficult to talk about it back then, we were all so young. It didn’t stop us playing by the stream, but only in this part of it, which always felt safer and closer to home, but that day definitely stuck with us. We as kids in the area never stopped thinking about him.

There are a lot of changes happening in the park at the moment. The big playground by Cressingham Road has been taken out, hopefully another one will go in because that’s the last playground in the park. However there are three big ponds being added, and new paths across what used to be the big fenced off sports field, but is now part of the park proper. and on top of the hill, it looks like a little bandstand or something is being built. Hopefully not just a place for the junkies to sit out of the rain. I hope these are positive updates for the park, what they have done to Montrose Park looks great, although they did build a sports centre over part of it too. London is great for parks and they need to be both protected and improved; Watling Park has a bit of a wild feel to it, but it wasn’t always that way. When I was a kid there were still tennis courts, beaten down though they were, and when my brother and sister were younger there was a putting green, I always wondered why they referred to the little patch of grass where we’d play football as a putting green. There used to be another playground near Abbots Road, I would be there every day on the swings or the see-saw, and that huge tall metal slide with the cage on top that would never pass a health and safety inspection these days, and whose metal slide surface would heat up to about 500 degrees on a hot day. Still better than those horrible plastic slides that generate enough static electricity to power a small car. We’ll see what it looks like when I’m next back. The drawing above is of another tree I saw on that walk, next to a row of houses on Fortescue Road, I really liked the ramshackle fences. I only had time to draw a quick outline, so in fact I drew most of this a few days later. I think I remember a schoolfriend lived on Fortescue and I went to their birthday party when I was about six or seven, but that’s all part of the blur of childhood.

Ok, back to posts and sketches from California. Until next time, Burnt Oak. See you in the summer.

a decembrous day in kew and richmond

January 14, 2025January 14, 2025Leave a comment

I had never been to Richmond, so when my friend Simon popped over to London from Dublin, I suggested we spend the day down there. I have heard it’s quite pretty there, some interesting scenes to sketch, nice by the river. We met at Kenton train station, and took the Overground train – the Lioness and the Mildmay lines, in the brand new parlance – down to Kew, where I have been before (coincidentally with Simon more than 20 years ago when we went to Kew Gardens). He is currently letting out a flat down there so knows the place well. Kew Gardens station is nice, worth a sketch but we pressed on, and walked from Kew all the way down to Richmond. On the way there we passed by the Gardens, and also the cafe above, ‘The Original Maids Of Honour’ (or ‘Newens’). We popped in and picked up a ‘Maid of Honour’ as a snack. The cafe dates back to the 1850s, but apparently the Maids of Honour date back to the time of King Henry VIII, and were made here in Richmond. What are they, well they are a little bit like custard tarts I suppose, little pastry cakes that were quite tasty. I had to draw outside while Simon took photos. Then we walked down the long road to Richmond town centre. I found myself coughing, my nose running, as though something in the air was setting off my allergens. Maybe it was the busy street, the proximity to Heathrow’s poor air, or maybe the variety of trees and plants in Kew Gardens, but something was setting me right off, just on that road. We popped into another cafe to use the bathroom and it started clearing up right away. By the time we got to Richmond, I was feeling better again, and it didn’t come back. Now if ever I am asked if I’m allergic to anything, I can say ‘the A307’.

The town centre in Richmond is nice, lots of shops and cafes and pubs. Despite being only mid afternoon it was already getting dark, or at least Decembrous, which is a word I made up for those gloomy times of day when it;s not raining, but feels dark, and yet festive too. Decembrous is nothing like the equivalent of a month later, ‘Januarse’. So far 2025 has been very Januarse all over. I found that well known spot in Richmond with the old pub and the phone box, where there are little alleys of shops near the big green. This little spot has been made famous in recent years by that show Ted Lasso, and there was even a Ted Lasso shop just further up. Honestly, I’m not a fan of the show. I watched it at first, and enjoyed it to a point, mostly because I really loved the original sketch from about 2013 or 2014 when NBC first bought coverage of the Premier League in the US (thank gawd they did too, it’s been great, far better than Fox Sports), and they advertised it with a little bit about this American coach becoming manager of Tottenham (Gareth Bale was still there, it was just before he left), and it was genuinely hilarious. The show itself, well that’s very popular but the more I watched it the more schmaltzy I found it, and I just had to give up. Plus I didn’t like how they use the word ‘wanker’, it’s really not how Londoners use it. Maybe in Richmond, not in Burnt Oak. Secondly, I hated the kit used by the club in the show, it’s a complete mess of a design, and no top level team would have that mash-up of colours. No, it doesn’t look like Crystal Palace. Red and Blue halves, ok, with a yellow trim, fine. White shorts, look, at a stretch, would look good on Palace, but with yellow socks??? Who came up with this kit-man’s nightmare? Not having it. Still, they had some pretty shots of Richmond, and it brings all the Americans here to say ‘wan-kerr’ over a pint and a game of darts. I enjoyed sketching here, Simon took photos (he is a great photographer) and we chatted, and then when I was done we went for a walk down the Thames. The riverside walks are lovely here, though the banks have a tendency to overflow. There’s one pub called the White Cross which regularly lends out wellies so customers can leave the pub safely.

On the way there we stopped into this bookshop, The Open Book, which was just the perfect size to eb sketched from outside. I had seen my fellow urban sketcher from the early days Cris Urdiales (from Malaga) had posted a sketch she’d drawn here a week before on Instagram, and so I was excited to stumble across it, and showed them Cris’s sketch. Simon was inside talking to the staff while I drew outside for a bit, and when I went in I resisted temptation to buy any books, instead buying loads of amazing Christmas cards. They had such a good range of them. They had a great selection of books too, I could have been in there for hours exploring. As it is, we needed to get back to the warmth of the pub, and headed back to the place I’d sketched already, the Prince’s Head, for a lovely London Pride. It was a nice day out in Richmond, but the rain was starting on this Decembrous day, so we got the train back into central London and met with old friends for dinner and drinks in Camden Town.

OpenBookRichmond2024

pretty seven dials and ugly pink riders

January 13, 2025January 12, 2025Leave a comment

A different day in London now, and after doing some work at home in the morning I made my way to Covent Garden to meet up with my friend Simon, who I had not seen since his stag party a year and a half before, and who was visiting from Dublin for a couple of days. We met at the cafe of the London Transport Museum, I love going to their shop and I picked up a fantastic festive hat. I wish I had bought the matching scarf too, but instead I settled on the socks which I wore on Christmas Day. You don’t need to know that. We then popped into the Freemason’s Hall, which I had heard you could go into, and looked around at all the masons’ stuff. You can’t wear hats in there, so my new hat was not allowed, yet there were lots of other items of silly clothing on display. We felt a bit out of place. I don’t really understand all the Freemason stuff, the secret handshakes and whatnot, but it was interesting looking around at the museum, all the information about past famous members and all the trophies; we are a Spurs fan and a Newcastle fan respectively so the well stocked trophy cabinets made us feel a little awkward. We went and had a little bit of lunch and a Belgian beer at the Lowlander Cafe, before he had to go and meet up with his dad for some shopping (and I had to go and meet my dad for hospital visiting hours). Before I took the tube up to Barnet though I walked through Seven Dials (which I kept calling Nine Dials) and sketched the pretty scene with the golden-leaved trees. It was very nice, until about seven or eight of those bloody awful unlicensed rickshaws pulled up outside a theatre, presumably to catch people coming out of a show, and all started blaring ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba at the same time on their individual speakers. I say at the same time, they weren’t all in sync, so it was just an aural mess of Abba, completely ruining the xmas atmos. Each one of them was decked out in garishly pink frills, designed as if to say “we think you are stupid and will stupidly ride around on this stupid tricycle for stupid money”. I hate these things. If I were Mayor of London I would ban them, and anyone caught doing it would be forced to ride their tricycle all the way to Scotland, going on all the B roads and everything, and then ride around the hardest estate in Glasgow or somewhere, playing bloody Dancing Queen. They prey on tourists, I always read stories about people getting in them and then suddenly being charged 300 quid to ride from a hundred yards up the road by a threatening man with a frankly scary pink vehicle. And sure people might say, well they are part of London now, that’s just what you do, we’ve had pedicabs for ages and tourists want the loud colour and music and don’t mind paying for ten minutes of dodging traffic and pavements and pedestrians. Personally I think they’re awful ugly noisy things, and they ruin any charm Central London still has. You won’t see me in one any time soon. Bah humbug indeed.