Sunday, 27 April 2014
Now, London is full of color. Mostly green, as all the trees are in fresh leaf and the park I live by is at its best. I was thinking last night, as I looked out my kitchen window at it, stars (yes, even in the city) twinkling above, that I'm very lucky indeed to be in a capital city, but surrounded by so much greenery that it feels positively suburban.
On a completely different note, the other evening, we visited the Gatehouse Pub (www.jdwetherspoon.co.uk/home/pubs/the-gatehouse-highgate) for the first time. So what? You may be asking. Well, I mention it because I've been to every single one of Highgate's other pubs - some many times - but for some reason have never been to the Gatehouse before. So, we made it our mission. It's one of those places that look bigger from the outside than they are once you're in, and it has the knotty-pine decor of pubs refurbished in the '90s. Having said this, it feels more like a 'local' than many of the others, which are often filled with barking youths who want the whole place to know they speak yah (as in, "Oh, yah, it was, like, so amazing..."). So, small groups of friends – one playing cards – older folks having a quiet pint, and the TV showing football with the sound down. Best bits: the semi-private booths round the edge of the room; change from a tenner for three drinks. Back story: claims to be the oldest pub in the village (possibly 14th century, though clearly heavily remodeled in Victorian times) and a ghost has been seen there. For the record, it didn't give off any spooky vibes. Recommended for: a quieter pub for when you actually want to talk to the people you're with.